They glide athwart our manhood's cares,

And care is hush'd!--they haunt our sins, And sin grows soft!-our hopes-our prayers— All interest sways--or passion wins--Or Fancy dreams--those thoughts suffuse With their own loved and faithful hues! They bathe, for aye, the surface sere That crusts upon us year by year; And, as unto our youth they brought The lesson which by Age is taught, So now, in turn, they seem to bring Our Age-sweet whispers from the spring ;--Flock round our pillow at life's close,

And in our very grave repose!

The lovers met, and Julian still
Soothed Mary's dim forefears of ill;

Spoke hopes which rugged Reason bade not,
And poured the comfort which he had not.

And when he told how years would pass
But love remain-and he return

Rich as her sire could wish---alas!

She thought not of the early urn

Such hopes too often find!--the wide

Dark gulf between, she scarcely viewed ;

She looked at once beyond Time's tide,
And saw them once more side by side,

As now they fondly stood!

So would they meet, and hope, and raise
Fair morrows to the evil days;

And in her youth and innocence,

She dreamt not love could need defence.
She knew not why so wildly trembled
His hand, if only touch'd by her's;
The wish by Passion oft dissembled,
If true, for ever it incurs.--
As hearths-as fuel without fire--
Man's love that would disown desire!

And there was peril in the hour,

And place, and silence, of their meetingEve, and its star, and that soft power,

That sway'd their pulse's fitful beating. Nature below, and shade above,--

And they--their young hearts and their love!

And never was a lovelier breast

Than her's by youthful ardour prest;

And never did a dreamier eye,

Look back to love unknown reply.

Oh! what is that divine, intense,
And holy soul within the sense---
That can control-restrain-inspire
The deafened fierceness of desire-
That can the wildest wish of clay,
The strength--the self of Nature sway,

And make us rather bear---yea, cling To the unslak'd and sleepless stingThan bid one pang that Being prove, Lov'd more than all the ends of Love?

And she was saved-nor knew how nigh The doom she never sought to fly!Ev'n with her fair cheek on his breast--Ev'n with her ripe lips warm from his,

So nearly, and so wildly blest

There was a barrier to the bliss-A soul itself that nobly prided

To shield the fond heart that confided!

So Time went on his silent way,
And brought in sight the fatal day ;
And now but one brief moon will fail,
Ere Julian's ship unfurl her sail;
And the frail plank, and faithless sea,
Become, poor girl! a world to thee!

END OF CHAPTER I. BOOK III.

BOOK THE THIRD.

CHAPTER II.