"But, oh! the gray church-tower, And the sound of Sabbath bell, And the shelter'd garden-bower,

We have bid them all farewell!

"We will give the names of our fearless race
To each bright river whose course we trace;
We will leave our memory with mounts and floods,
And the path of our daring in boundless woods;
And our works unto many a lake's green shore,
Where the Indians' graves lay, alone, before."

"But who shall teach the flowers, Which our children loved, to dwell In a soil that is not ours?

Home, home and friends, farewell!"

THE KING OF ARRAGON'S LAMENT FOR HIS BROTHER.1

"If I could see him, it were well with me!"

COLERIDGE'S "Wallenstein."

THERE were lights and sounds of revelling in the vanquish'd city's halls,

As by night the feast of victory was held within its walls;

And the conquerors fill'd the wine-cup high, after years of bright blood shed;

But their lord, the King of Arragon, midst the triumph wail'd the dead.

He look'd down from the fortress won, on the tents and flowers below,

The moonlit sea, the torchlit streets-and a gloom came o'er his brow:

The voice of thousands floated up, with the horn and cymbal's tone;

But his heart, midst that proud music, felt more utterly alone.

And he cried, "Thou art mine, fair city! thou city of the sea!

But, oh! what portion of delight is mine at last in thee?

I am lonely midst thy palaces, while the glad waves past them roll,

And the soft breath of thine orange bowers is mournful to my soul.

1 The grief of Ferdinand, King of Arragon, for the loss of his brother, Don Pedro, who was killed during the siege of Naples, is affectingly described by the historian Mariana.

Scorning the place made desolate,

He seeks another nest.

But I-your soft looks wake the thirst

That wins no quenching rain; Ye drive me back, my beautiful! To the stormy fight again.

THEKLA AT HER LOVER'S GRAVE.

"Thither where he lies buried!

That single spot is the whole world to me."

COLERIDGE's "Wallenstein."

THY voice was in my soul! it call'd me on;

O my lost friend! thy voice was in my soul. From the cold, faded world whence thou art gone, To hear no more life's troubled billows roll, I come! I come!

Now speak to me again! we loved so well-
We loved!-oh! still, I know that still we love!
I have left all things with thy dust to dwell,
Through these dim aisles in dreams of thee to
This is my home!
[rove:

Speak to me in the thrilling minster's gloom!
Speak! thou hast died, and sent me no farewell!
I will not shrink-oh! mighty is the tomb,
But one thing mightier, which it cannot quell—
This woman's heart!

This lone, full, fragile heart !-the strong alone In love and grief-of both the burning shrine ! Thou, my soul's friend! with grief hast surely done,

But with the love which made thy spirit mine, Say, couldst thou part?

I hear the rustling banners; and I hear
The wind's low singing through the fretted stone.
I hear not thee; and yet I feel thee near-
What is this bound that keeps thee from thine
Breathe it away.
[own?

I wait thee-I adjure thee! Hast thou known How I have loved thee? couldst thou dream it all?

Am I not here, with night and death alone, And fearing not? And hath my spirit's call O'er thine no sway?

Thou canst not come! or thus I should not weep! Thy love is deathless-but no longer free!

Soon would its wing triumphantly o'ersweep The viewless barrier, if such power might be, Soon, soon, and fast!

But I shall come to thee! our souls' deep dreams,
Our young affections, have not gush'd in vain;
Soon in one tide shall blend the sever'd streams,
The worn heart break its bonds-and death and
Be with the past!
[pain

THE SISTERS OF SCIO.

"As are our hearts, our way is one,

And cannot be divided. Strong affection

Contends with all things, and o'ercometh all things.
Will I not live with thee? will I not cheer thee?
Wouldst thou be lonely then? wouldst thou be sad ?"
JOANNA BAILLIB.

"SISTER, Sweet sister! let me weep awhile!
Bear with me-give the sudden passion way!
Thoughts of our own lost home, our sunny isle,
Come as a wind that o'er a reed hath sway;

Till my heart dies with yearnings and sick fears— Oh! could my life melt from me in these tears!