And nature saw her time of power- The mighty bowed before a flower, Alone before that chiseled brow, Flit by, like hated phantoms now, The empire of the heart unveils, The golden days whose suns went down Lighting with dim but cold renown Oh! had the monarch to the wind And to the victory of mind Had his warrior footsteps rung, What then were desert rocks and seas, FROM A BACHELOR'S PRIVATE JOURNAL To one whom Destiny decrees Such fadeless fame! Oh! had the tyrant cast his crown What though the pomp of life had flown, Then had thy speaking bust, brave boy! 65 FROM A BACHELOR'S PRIVATE JOURNAL. SWEET Mary, I have never breathed Though round my heart a serpent wreathed, Once more the pulse of Nature glows And is there none with me to share 66 LINES, BY A LADY Ah no! the cradled flowers may wake, Go-ere the painted toys of youth Are crushed beneath the tread of years; Ere visions have been chilled to truth, And hopes are washed away in tears. Go-for I will not bid thee weep, Too soon my sorrows will be thine, And evening's troubled air shall sweep The incense from the broken shrine. If Heaven can hear the dying tone Of chords that soon will cease to thrill, The prayer that Heaven has heard alone May bless thee when those chords are still! O. W. H LINES, Written by a Lady, a few days before her death. That beat against my breast, Rage on-thou may'st destroy this form, But still the spirit that now brooks LINES, BY A LADY. Thy tempest raging high, Undaunted on its fury looks With steadfast eye. I said to Penury's meagre train, I said to cold Neglect and Scorn, You may pursue me, till my form Yet still the spirit which you see, Its high-born smiles. I said to Friendship's menaced blow Yet still the spirit that sustains Shall smile upon its keenest pains, 67 I said to Death's uplifted dart, Aim sure, O why delay? For still the spirit, firm and free, Shall, smiling, pass away TO A WAVE. BY J. O. ROCKWELL. LIST! thou child of wind and sea, Wave! now on the golden sands, |