Ring, joyous chords!-ring forth again! A swifter still, and a wilder strain ! -But thou, though a reckless mien be thine, By thine eye's quick flash through its troubled cloud, I know thee!-it is but the wakeful fear Of a haunted bosom that brings thee here! I know thee !-thou fearest the solemn night, With her piercing stars and her deep wind's might! And thou-there's a dark weight on thine-away! Ring, joyous chords !-ring out again! And bring fresh wreaths!-we will banish all And the world of dreamy gloom that lies In the misty depths of thy soft dark eyes? -Thou hast loved, fair girl! thou hast loved too well! Thou art mourning now o'er a broken spell; Thou hast pour'd thy heart's rich treasures forth, And art unrepaid for their priceless worth! Mourn on !—yet come thou not here the while, It is but a pain to see thee smile! There is not a tone in our songs for thee- Ring, joyous chords !—ring out again! And the love of thy spirit is with the dead! Thou art but more lone 'midst the sounds of mirth -Back to thy silent hearth! Ring, joyous chords!-ring forth again! -But thou, through a reckless mien be the By thine eve's que fast, through the woubled clone, 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! THE CONQUEROR'S SLEEP. SLEEP 'midst thy banners furl'd! Yes! thou art there, upon thy buckler lying, Stillness hath smooth'd thy brow, And now might love keep timid vigils by thee, Now might the foe with stealthy foot draw nigh thee, Alike unconscious and defenceless thou! Tread lightly, watchers!-now the field is won, Break not the rest of nature's weary son! Perchance some lovely dream Back from the stormy fight thy soul is bearing, |