"These birds of Paradise but long to flee

Back to their native mansion."

Prophecy of Dante.

A REQUIEM!—and for whom?

For beauty in its bloom?

For valour fallen-a broken rose or sword?

A dirge for king or chief,

With pomp of stately grief,

Banner, and torch, and waving plume deplored?

Not so-it is not so!

The warning voice I know,

From other worlds a strange mysterious tone;

And

my

A solemn funeral air,

It call'd me to prepare,

heart answerd secretly-my own!

One more then, one more strain,
In links of joy and pain,

Mighty the troubled spirit to inthrall !

And let me breathe my dower

Of passion and of power

Full into that deep lay-the last of all!

The last!—and I must go

From this bright world below,

This realm of sunshine, ringing with sweet sound! Must leave its festal skies,

With all their melodies,

That ever in my breast glad echoes found!

Yet have I known it long:
Too restless and too strong

Within this clay hath been th' o'ermastering flame; Swift thoughts, that came and went,

Like torrents o'er me sent,

Have shaken, as a reed, my thrilling frame.

Like perfumes on the wind,

Which none may stay or bind,
The beautiful comes floating through my soul;
I strive with yearnings vain

The spirit to detain

Of the deep harmonies that past me roll!

Therefore disturbing dreams

Trouble the secret streams

And founts of music that o'erflow

Something far more divine

my

Than may on earth be mine,

breast;

Haunts my worn heart, and will not let me rest.

Shall I then fear the tone

That breathes from worlds unknown?—

Surely these feverish aspirations there

Shall grasp their full desire,

And this unsettled fire

Burn calmly, brightly, in immortal air.

One more then, one more strain;
To earthly joy and pain

A rich, and deep, and passionate farewell!
I pour each fervent thought,

With fear, hope, trembling, fraught,

Into the notes that o'er my dust shall swell.

THE IMAGE IN LAVA.*

THOU thing of years departed!
What ages have gone by,
Since here the mournful seal was set
By love and agony?

Temple and tower have moulder'd,
Empires from earth have pass'd,
And woman's heart hath left a trace
Those glories to outlast!

And childhood's fragile image,
Thus fearfully enshrined,

Survives the proud memorials rear'd

By conquerors of mankind.

Babe! wert thou brightly slumbering
Upon thy mother's breast,
When suddenly the fiery tomb
Shut round each gentle guest?

A strange, dark fate o'ertook

you,

Fair babe and loving heart!
One moment of a thousand pangs-
Yet better than to part!

Haply of that fond bosom

On ashes here impress'd,

The impression of a woman's form, with an infant clasped to the bosom, found at the uncovering of Hercula

neum.

Thou wert the only treasure, child!
Whereon a hope might rest.

Perchance all vainly lavish'd

Its other love had been,

And where it trusted, nought remain'd But thorns on which to lean.

Far better, then, to perish,

Thy form within its clasp,

Than live and lose thee, precious one! From that impassion'd grasp.

Oh! I could pass all relics
Left by the pomps of old,
To gaze on this rude monument
Cast in affection's mould.

Love, human love! what art thou?
Thy print upon the dust
Outlives the cities of renown
Wherein the mighty trust!

Immortal, oh! immortal

Thou art, whose earthly glow Hath given these ashes holiness— It must, it must be so!

CHRISTMAS CAROL.

O LOVELY Voices of the sky,

That hymn'd the Saviour's birth! Are ye not singing still on high,

Ye that sang,

"Peace on earth?"

To us yet speak the strains

Wherewith, in days gone by,
Ye bless'd the Syrian swains,
O voices of the sky!

O clear and shining light, whose beams
That hour Heaven's glory shed
Around the palms, and o'er the streams,
And on the shepherds' head;

Be near, through life and death,

As in that holiest night
Of Hope, and Joy, and Faith,
O clear and shining light!

O star which led to him whose love Brought down man's ransom free; Where art thou ?-'Midst the hosts above

May we still gaze on thee!

In heaven thou art not set,

Thy rays earth might not dimSend them to guide us yet,

O star which led to him!