Heu! quantum minus est reliquis versari, quam tui meminisse!

OH! sweetly o'er the Atlantic sea,
The moon, with melancholy smile,
Looks down, as I, beloved, on thee
Am fondly musing all the while:
And as, along the silver tide,

Its silent course the vessel steers,
I dream of days, when, side by side,
We roamed on eves of other years!

Though many a land, and many a wave,
Between us rise, between us roll,
Still, like a beacon, bright to save,
Thou sheddest light upon my soul.
And though the mist of years hath passed,
Since first I blessed its glorious shine,
Yet thoughts and woes-and days amassed,
Have only made it doubly thine!

How sweetly to the pensive mind
The dreams of other days awake,
And all the joys he left behind,
No more on earth to overtake!
Our wanderings by the sandy shore,-
Our walks along the twilight plain,—
The raptures that we felt of yore,—

And ne'er on earth shall feel again!

Unclouded moon! o'er rippling seas

Thou lookest down in placid grace;
With sails, expanded by the breeze,
Alert, our onward path we trace;
To foreign isles, and lands unknown,
We steer, where every sigh shall tell,
'Mid thousands as I walk alone,

My thoughts, with those far distant dwell.

Unclouded moon! 'tis sweet to mark

Thine aspect, so serene and calm,
Dispersing, vanquishing the dark,
And o'er our sorrows shedding balm.
Departed years like visions pass

Across the hot and fevered brow,
Blest years, and vanished eves, alas!

When thou did'st shine as thou dost now !

Oh! brightly as of yesterday

The dreams of vanished years awake, The hopes that flattered to betray,

And left the joyless heart to break.-
I see thee, as I saw thee then,

Endowed by youth with magic charm;
I hear thee, as I heard thee, when
We roamed together, arm in arm.

It were a soothing thought, that thou
Perchance, now pondering, tak'st delight

To raise thy white, angelic brow,

And gaze upon this lovely night; And that the very scenes might rise Upon thy mind's reverted eye, That draw from me a thousand sighs, In starting up-and passing by.

'Twere nothing did we die 'twere nought
From life at once to pass away,
But thus to wither thought by thought,
And inch by inch, and day by day;
To mark the lingering tints of light,
As twilight o'er the sky expands,-
To mark the wave's receding flight,

That leaves the bleak and barren sands.

To see the stars that gem the sky

Fade one by one, to note the leaves

Drop from the boughs all witheringly,

Through which the wintry tempest grieves

'Tis this that chills the drooping heart,
That still we breathe, and feel, and live,
When all the flowers of earth depart,
And life hath not a joy to give!

Not parted yet not parted yet-
Though oceans roll, and roar between ;
A star that glitters ne'er to set,

Thou smilest bright, and shinest serene;
Fair Ida! and the waste of life,

All bleak and barren though it be, Although a scene of care and strife, Has still a charm in having thee!

Blackwood's Magazine.

THE MOSS ROSE,

FROM THE GERMAN.

THE angel of the flowers one day,
Beneath a rose-tree sleeping lay,
That spirit to whom charge is given
To bathe young buds in dews of heaven;
Awaking from his light repose,

The angel whispered to the Rose:
'O fondest object of my care,

'Still fairest found, where all are fair

'For the sweet shade thou givest to me,

'Ask what thou wilt 'tis granted thee.'

"Then,' said the Rose, with deepened glow,

'On me another grace bestow.'

The spirit paused in silent thought,

What grace was there that flower had not?
'Twas but a moment-o'er the rose

A veil of moss the angel throws,
And robed in nature's simplest weed,
Could there a flower that rose exceed.
Literary Gazette.

ISABEL.

TIME ARRESTING THE CAREER OF PLEASURE.

FROM A DRAWING BY R. DAGLEY.

STAY thee on thy wild career,

Other sounds than mirth's are near;

Spread not those white arms in air;
Fling those roses from thy hair;
Stop awhile those glancing feet;
Still thy golden cymbals beat;
Ring not thus thy joyous laugh;
Cease that purple cup to quaff;
Hear my voice of warning, hear,—

Stay thee on thy mad career!

Youth's sweet bloom is round thee now,

Roses laugh upon thy brow;

Radiant are thy starry eyes;

Spring is in the crimson dyes

O'er which thy dimpled smile is wreathing;

Incense on thy lip is breathing;

Light and Love are round thy soul,—

But thunder-peals o'er June-skies roll;

Even now the storm is near

Then stay thee on thy mad career!

Raise thine eyes to yonder sky,
There is writ thy destiny!

Clouds have veiled the new moonlight;
Stars have fallen from their height;

These are emblems of the fate
That waits thee-dark and desolate!
All morn's lights are now thine own,
Soon their glories will be gone;
What remains when they depart ?
Faded hope, and withered heart:
Like a flower with no perfume
To keep a memory of its bloom!

Look upon that hour-marked round,
Listen to that fateful sound;
There my silent hand is stealing,
My more silent course revealing;
Wild, devoted PLEASURE, hear,-
Stay thee on thy mad career!
Literary Gazette.

L. E. L.

THE SPANISH MAIDEN'S FAREWELL.

BY MATILDA BETHAM.

MANUEL, I do not shed a tear

Our parting to delay;

I dare not listen to my fear,

I dare not bid thee stay.

The heart may shrink, the spirit fail,

But Spaniards must be free!

And pride and duty shall prevail

O'er all my love for thee.

Then go; and round that gallant head,

Like banners in the air,

Shall float full many a daring hope,

And many a tender prayer.

Should freedom perish-at thy death

'Twere madness to repine; And I should every feeling lose,

Except the wish for mine.

But if the destiny of Spain

Be once again to rise!

O! grant me heaven! to read the tale
In Manuel's joyful eyes.