HOOD'S POETICAL WORKS.

THE BRIDGE OF SIGHS.

ONE more Unfortunate,
Weary of breath,
Rashly importunate,
Gone to her death!

Take her up tenderly,
Lift her with care;
Fashion'd so slenderly,
Young, and so fair!

Look at her garments
Clinging like cerements;
Whilst the wave constantly

Drips from her clothing;
Take her up instantly,
Loving, not loathing.-

Touch her not scornfully;
Think of her mournfully,
Gently and humanly;
Not of the stains of her,
All that remains of her
Now is pure womanly.

A

As when with the daring
Last look of despairing
Fix'd on futurity.

Perishing gloomily,
Spurr'd by contumely,
Cold inhumanity,
Burning insanity,

Into her rest.—

Cross her hands humbly,

As if praying dumbly,
Over her breast!

Owning her weakness,

Her evil behaviour,

And leaving, with meekness,

Her sins to her Saviour!

!

THE PLEA OF THE MIDSUMMER FAIRIES.

"TWAS in that mellow season of the year

When the hot sun singes the yellow leaves

Till they be gold,—and with a broader sphere

The Moon looks down on Ceres and her sheaves;

When more abundantly the spider weaves,

And the cold wind breathes from a chiller clime ;-
That forth I fared, on one of those still eves,

Touch'd with the dewy sadness of the time,

To think how the bright months had spent their prime.

So that, wherever I address'd my way,

I seem'd to track the melancholy feet

Of him that is the Father of Decay,

And spoils at once the sour weed and the sweet ;—
Wherefore regretfully I made retreat

To some unwasted regions of my brain,
Charm'd with the light of summer and the heat,
And bade that bounteous season bloom again,
And sprout fresh flowers in mine own domain.