Raved through the leafy beeches,

And left them desolate.

Now May, with life and music,
The blooming valley fills,

And rears her flowery arches
For all the little rills.

The minstrel bird of evening Comes back on joyous wings, And, like the harp's soft murmur, Is heard the gush of springs.

And deep within the forest
Are wedded turtles seen,

Their nuptial chambers seeking,

Their chambers close and green.

The rugged trees are mingling
Their flowery sprays in love;

The ivy climbs the laurel,

To clasp the boughs above.

They change-but thou, Lisena,
Art cold while I complain :

Why to thy lover only

Should spring return in vain?

A NORTHERN LEGEND.

FROM THE GERMAN OF UHLAND.

THERE sits a lovely maiden,

The ocean murmuring nigh;

She throws the hook, and watches; The fishes pass it by.

A ring, with a red jewel,
Is sparkling on her hand;
Upon the hook she binds it,
And flings it from the land.

Uprises from the water

A hand like ivory fair.

What gleams upon its finger?
The golden ring is there.

Uprises from the bottom

A young and handsome knight;

In golden scales he rises,

That glitter in the light.

The maid is pale with terror-
"Nay, Knight of Ocean, nay,
It was not thee I wanted;
Let go the ring, I pray."

• Ah, maiden, not to fishes

The bait of gold is thrown; The ring shall never leave me, And thou must be my own."

LATER POEMS.