"Come joy, come sorrow, we together
"Must bear and share the doom;
"Nor break our friendship's holy tether,

"Save in one common tomb.

"So God hath joined us to be

"To each a solace and a mate,

“Earth's friendships-loves beyond-for we

"Are sacred ev'n from Fate!'

"Hast thou not said those very words?"And now!-and now !"

His heart

Nor further speech, nor breath accords;
But all the streams of Memory start
Fresh from the well of distant years,

And falling on that gloomy breast
Which had so dark a change confest,
He burst forth into tears!

And high, and pale, and motionless,
Stands Chang; and on his sullen cheek

No varying nerve or hue express

What Pride or Hate forbids to speak;
Yet slowly in his eyes at length,
The frozen moisture gathered strength,
Until from the reluctant lid,
One large and salt tear coldly slid
Adown his cheek, unheeded straying,
And his look's rigid calm betraying.

And dark and darker grows the night,
Around them falling ;

As the winds awake, and the Water Sprite
From his caves is calling:

And the heavy drops from the gathering cloud
Fall on the trees as they quail;

And the crest of their haughtiest chief is bowed
To the rush of the trampling gale.

And the gloom, and the night, and the solitude, Were their witness and watch in the dreary wood.

And when they gain'd their distant cot,

The Twins were reconciled.

They arrived at the lonely door,

With the light at the lattice burning; And Mary came out, in joy once more To welcome her guests returning :

*

For the hour was late, and the storm was drear, And Mary was ever a fool to fear.

Besides, (may Heaven forgive the thought!)

A knife, that in the Brothers' room
Was left, in vain had Mary sought;

And this with that knit brow of gloom,
That restless eye, and aspect dark,
Which late in Chang she deemed to mark;
Her vague half-lit forebodings joined—

As the hours passed, nor homeward yet
Their steps return'd. Nor now her mind
Shook off its burthen, as she met

Their welcome forms the threshold crossing;
But lifting high the light, whose flare
In the fierce wind was wildly tossing,
A long and wistful gaze she fixed
Upon their faces ;—the proud air

Of Chang seemed bowed, and tamed, and mixed

With something of that gentler mien,

Which wont on Ching's light brow be seen.

But Ching's gay laugh and voice were mute,
And weary fell his languid foot;

The exhausted frame, or labouring mind,
In his drawn cheek its sigil sign'd;

And you might mark, yet lingering there,
The traces which the past bequeaths,
When some dread thought we shun to bare
Again, the haggard memory sheaths.
She looked, but silently supprest

Whate'er aroused suspicion guest.

They sate at the nightly board,

And Mary prest the cheer;

And her father's voice with a merrier sound

Than of wont, came on the ear;

And the generous wine which he long had stored
Was gaily circled round.

But the airy heart of the buoyant Ching
Flagg'd like a bird on a wounded wing;
Tho' ay, as the wine cup sparkled by,
The beam broke forth from his kindled eye,
And struggled his lip for its 'customed whim—
But the jest was dull, and the glance was dim.

And Chang nor eat, nor spake, nor took

His droop'd eye from the board, save by A hurried and a stolen look

To her, who watched them wistfully. Still at that look his breath heaved thickly, And his pulse beat feverishly and quickly.

Not much they needed to be prest,

To yield to Mary's gentle prayer,

No longer to protract the rest

Which should their wearied strength repair

They are now in their quiet room,

They are now on their couch reclining;

S

And only through the broken gloom

One waning lamp is shining.
Already hath Ching's tired breast
Cradled the vex'd thought into rest.

But Chang yet wakes, his lips are stirred
At times by some half-muttered word,
Fragments of speech confused and broken,
But of the past's dark pile a token.

Now tones of grief, and now of shame,
Now of repentance and remorse;

And now fair Mary's holy name,

Of thought awakes a purer source.

These were the last words which he breathed, Ere, snake-like, slumber round him wreathed, And lock'd him in her 'numbing fold— "Tis past-it was-it was control'd! "And we are saved!-and if for me, "No hope can dawn-I yet may hover "Around her blessed path-and He

66

O joy! O joy!-he doth not love her!”

END OF CHAPTER I. BOOK IV.