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Look round thee !-o'er the slumbering deep,
A solemn glory broods ;
And all the golden woods;
Burn with the amber light!-
Chains down thy gazing sight?
A softening thought of human cares,
A feeling link'd to earth!
The loved of many a hearth?
Crowd her frail world even now,
Follow her venturous prow?
Bright are the floating clouds above,
The glittering seas below;
To kindred weal and woe.
Of glorious things and fair,
For human hearts are there.
THE BIRDS OF PASSAGE.
Birds, joyous birds of the wandering wing !
“We have swept o'er cities in song renown'd-
And what have ye found in the monarch's dome,
O joyous birds, it hath still been so;
“A change we have found there—and many a change!
Sad is your tale of the beautiful earth,
THE GRAVES OF A HOUSEHOLD.
They grew in beauty, side by side,
They fillid one home with glee ;Their graves are sever'd, far and wide,
By mount, and stream, and sea.
The same fond mother bent at night
O'er each fair sleeping brow;
Where are those dreamers now?
One, 'midst the forest of the west,
By a dark stream is laid -
Far in the cedar shade.
The sea, the blue lone sea, hath one
He lies where pearls lie deep; He was the loved of all, yet none
O'er his low bed may weep.
One sleeps where southern vines are drest,
Above the noble slain;
On a blood-red field of Spain.
And one-o'er her the myrtle showers
Its leaves, by soft winds fann'd; She faded 'midst Italian flowers
The last of that bright band.
And parted thus they rest, who play'd
Beneath the same green tree; Whose voices mingled as they pray'd
Around one parent knee !
They that with smiles lit up the hall,
And cheer'd with song the hearthAlas! for love, if thou wert all,
And nought beyond, 0 earth!
A short time before the death of Mozart, a stranger, of remarkable appearance, and dressed in deep mourning, called at his house, and requested him to prepare a requiem, in his best style, for the funeral of a distinguished person. The sensitive imagination of the composer immediately seized upon the circumstance as an omen of his own fate; and the nervous anxiety with which he laboured to fulfil the task, had the effect of realizing his impression. He died within a few days after completing this magnificent piece of music, which was performed at his interment.
“These birds of Paradise but long to flee
Prophecy of Dante.
A REQUIEM !--and for whom?
For beauty in its bloom?
A dirge for king or chief,
With pomp of stately grief,
Not so it is not so!
The warning voice I know,
A solemn funeral air,
It call'd me to prepare,
One more then, one more strain,
In links of joy and pain, Vol. V.-27