Ring, joyous chords !-ring out again!
A swifter still, and a wilder strain!

And bring fresh wreaths!-we will banish all
Save the free in heart from our festive hall.
On! through the maze of the fleeting dance, on!--
But where are the young and the lovely?-gone!
Where are the brows with the Red Cross crown'd,
And the floating forms with the bright zone
bound?

And the waving locks and the flying feet,

That still should be where the mirthful meet? They are gone they are fled—they are parted all : Alas! the forsaken hall!

SONG OF A GUARDIAN SPIRIT.

OH! droop thou not, my gentle earthly love!
Mine still to be!

I bore through death, to brighter lands above,
My thoughts of thee.

Yes! the deep memory of our holy tears,
Our mingled prayer,

Our suffering love, through long devoted years,
Went with me there.

It was not vain, the hallow'd and the tried-
It was not vain!

Still, though unseen, still hovering at thy side,
I watch again!

From our own paths, our love's attesting bowers, I am not gone;

In the deep calm of Midnight's whispering hours, Thou art not lone :

Not lone, when by the haunted streams thou That stream whose tone

[weepest, Murmurs of thoughts, the richest and the deepest, We two have known:

Not lone, when mournfully some strain awaking Of days long past,

From thy soft eyes the sudden tears are breaking, Silent and fast:

Not lone, when upwards, in fond visions turning
Thy dreamy glance,
[burning,
Thou seek'st my home, where solemn stars are
O'er night's expanse.

My home is near thee, loved one! and around thee,
Where'er thou art;
[thee,
Though still mortality's thick cloud hath bound
Doubt not thy heart!

Hear its low voice, nor deem thyself forsaken-Let faith be given

To the still tones which oft our being wakenThey are of heaven!

SWISS SONG,

ON THE ANNIVERSARY OF AN ANCIENT BATTLE,

Look on the white Alps round!

If yet they gird a land

Where Freedom's voice and step are found,
Forget ye not the band,-

The faithful band, our sires, who fell
Here in the narrow battle dell!

If yet the wilds among,

Our silent hearts may burn,

When the deep mountain-horn hath rung,
And home our steps may turn,—

Home !-home !-if still that name be dear,
Praise to the men who perish'd here!

Look on the white Alps round!
Up to their shining snows,
That day the stormy rolling sound,
The sound of battle, rose!

Their caves prolonged the trumpet's blast,
Their dark pines trembled as it pass'd!

They saw the princely crest,
They saw the knightly spear,
The banner and the mail-clad breast,
Borne down and trampled here!

They saw-and glorying there they stand,
Eternal records to the land!

Praise to the mountain-born,
The brethren of the glen!
By them no steel array was worn,
They stood as peasant-men!
They left the vineyard and the field,
To break an empire's lance and shield!

Look on the white Alps round!
If yet, along their steeps,

Our children's fearless feet may bound,
Free as the chamois leaps :

'Teach them in song to bless the band
Amidst whose mossy graves we stand!

If, by the wood-fire's blaze,
When winter stars gleam cold,
The glorious tales of elder days
May proudly yet be told,

Forget not then the shepherd race,
Who made the hearth a holy place!

Look on the white Alps round!
If yet the Sabbath-bell

Comes o'er them with a gladdening sound,
Think on the battle dell!

For blood first bathed its flowery sod, That chainless hearts might worship God!

THE DIVER.

Thou hast been where the rocks of coral grow Thou hast fought with eddying waves ;Thy cheek is pale, and thy heart beats low, Thou searcher of ocean's caves!

Thou hast look'd on the gleaming wealth of old, And wrecks where the brave have striven:

The deep is a strong and fearful hold,

But thou its bar hast riven !

A wild and weary life is thine :
A wasting task and lone,
Though treasure-grots for thee may shin
To all besides unknown!

A weary life! but a swift decay
Soon, soon shall set thee free;
Thou'rt passing fast from thy toils away,
Thou wrestler with the sea!

In thy dim eye, on thy hollow cheek,
Weli are the death-signs read-
Go! for the pearl in its cavern seek,
Ere hope and power be fled!

And bright in beauty's coronal
That glistening gem shall be;
A star to all in the festive hall—
But who will think on thee?