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They told me this was death, but well I knew it could

not be ; Fairest and stateliest of the earth! who spoke of death

for thee? They would have wrapt the funeral shroud thy gallant

form around, But I forbade-and there thou art, a monarch, rob'd

and crown'd!

“With all thy bright locks gleaming still, their coronal

beneath, And thy brow so proudly beautiful—who said that this

was death? Silence hath been upon thy lips, and stillness round thee


But the hopeful spirit in my breast is all undimm'd and


“I know thou hast not lov'd me yet; I am not fair like

thee, The very glance of whose clear eye threw round a light

of glee!

A frail and drooping form is minema cold, unsmiling

cheek, Oh ! I have but a woman's heart, wherewith thy heart

to seek.

“But when thou wak'st, my prince, my lord ! and

hear’st how I have kept A lonely vigil by thy side, and o'er thee pray'd and

wept ; How in one long, deep dream of thee my nights and

days have past, Surely that humble, patient love must win back love at


“ And thou wilt smile—my own, my own, shall be the

sunny smile, Which brightly fell, and joyously, on all but me ere

while ! No more in vain affection's thirst my weary soul shall

pineOh! years of hope deferr'd were paid by one fond

glance of thine!

“ Thou 'lt meet me with that radiant look when thou

comest from the chase, For me, for me, in festal halls it shall kindle o'er thy

face! Thou 'lt reck no more though beauty's gift mine aspect

may not bless; In thy kind eyes this deep, deep love, shall give me


But wake! my heart within me burns, yet once more

to rejoice In the sound to which it ever leap'd, the music of thy

voice : Awake! I sit in solitude, that thy first look and tone, And the gladness of thine opening eyes, may all be mine


In the still chambers of the dust, thus pour'd forth day by

day, The passion of that loving dream from a troubled soul

found way,

Until the shadows of the grave had swept o'er every

grace, Left ’midst the awfulness of death on the princely form

and face.

And slowly broke the fearful truth upon the watcher's

breast, And they bore away the royal dead with requiems to his

rest, With banners and with knightly plumes all waving in the

windBut a woman's broken heart was left in its lone despair THE AMERICAN FOREST GIRL.


A fearful gift upon thy heart is laid,
Woman!-a power to suffer and to love,
Therefore thou so canst pity.

Wildly and mournfully the Indian drum

On the deep hush of moonlight forests broke ;-
Sing us a death-song, for thine hour is come,”

So the red warriors to their captive spoke.
Still, and amidst those dusky forms alone,

A youth, a fair-hair’d youth of England stood, Like a king's son; though from his cheek had flown

The mantling crimson of the island-blood, And his press'd lips look'd marble.-Fiercely bright, And high around him, blaz’d the fires of night,

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