The Improvisatrice; and Other Poems 2.Ed
Letitia E. Landon The improvisatrice; and other poems 2.ed. London : Hurst, Robinson [et al.], 1824
reference no. S54254
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Publisher’s note English Language Women’s Literature of 18th & 19th Centuries 356 women writers 958 titles / 3,000 historic books with 830,800 full text pages
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AND
OTHER POEMS. ' /'*"-' ' ' V ' r" "" til "Sift£>f ,, -<• /~^f ' * tl
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A9T»
OTHER POEMS,
U , E B . YL
WFFH E3fBKI*lJSHSnEJCm
t U I Mp»wtfm a aoi tawU o tt r hidee« , For win i« a* it yreirttW by F»te, KAK&owa.
SBCONII EDITION.
LONDON: PHINTE E HURSTDPO , UOBIN8ON AK. DCO IK) t HEAPSSnK, , PAI,l,-J«Ai,l,'8 D AM , « AN , ARCHIBALD CONSTABLE AND CO. EDlNBt R<-H. 1824. ADVERTISEMENT.
POETRY no Preface: If it do not renden ea t exri -for itself o n , plicit. I have only* therefore, to FAc- Improi'watnee attempn a s i o t t * specie I*aiyf n inspiratioi o s . vltf*n" * the mind is warmed by all that is beautiful in Nature IB Art. The character depicted is entirely Italian, —a young female with al the loveliness, vivid impassionen feelingow geniu d r an he , f so d land. supposes i e Mste-ryn Sh relato dow t r ;e he with which are intermixed the and episodes which various circumstances call forth. Some of the minor poems have appeared in TJte Literary Gazette.
_^«IP»M illlll«^_ JL. E. It, ^^^^DONs^N. PRINTER BY T. AI«Vj.J|. WlNDBtL, 8, KORTi?HTREKT. LAMBETH, /FIIRSTT.JCIU& (BIBL!0".'HFKJ yiiV COT\\fJ{Y./ CONTENTS.
r*fr THE 1MPROVI8ATRICE ..... I
TALK AND MISCELLANEOUS
KO&ALIE ...... 109 ROUND'-'. TOWKR . ,,,,.. 129
THB 6VE1U1.L4 fHtfcf . - . . . . 113 THB «*VADKRK ...... 5 15 . ST. eSOfcGE's BO»VIT.tL ..... Iftf TUB iSESEmTEB ...... 5 18 . enjBESMirm ...... 183 THE MINSTRBi PO&TVCAF O . L .... 804 THE JJASQ OlRE l t ATkO HE>'R . I21 . Ql'ATS2 B THB »MLOB ...... 9 21 . TUB COVI -ANTE&S ...... 227
FRAGMENTS. TUB SOLDIER'S FUNERAL ..... 231 LINES WBITTKX UNDE FlrTt'BA R GIRA F LEO BUAMINO A LOVE-LETTBR ..,,.0 21 . ARION, A TALE ...... 2t2 %ij| tojifRisTS.
p*i«
«U*tt**>r* !>»*»B TU . > Cl«», rtOATH»0E WTH *>
S«%O«S ,..-•••' * THE FEW*!* CO^TKT „..-.< *** 9®* TH* *AIST«f« tflVB ,...•* * fll INKS .,..-'••' fas QI» ...<-•• 88* S»t ««. »IO«T ...... ^ TH£ IMPROVISATRICE. tH%S«JE .,,•••** f§9 Tff« G&K ROS* V S ,.-•••• 891 C8EM"E?>TtlS ...... «95 0^ A STAB ..-.*•• ,,...-•• I AM daughtea f tharo t land. * • 00** OOQ °
TMS KWKBU.B *IN SfPttSTITIOA O : X ...»*•
l
, ,....-••• ° 3 Where the poet's iip and the painter's hand E
lo 303 e mogAr t di^^^^htOW,, ^HOrB eart, AMh• an(» 'JBSACT • ^- • Y IBS carsiBsa ....••• * e picturAr e bot poetryd han — t«g wAttjuoa SKETC A . : H EOS . . 31** 4POL0GCS ,....• I am of Florence. 'Mid the chill BALLADS. hop f feelingd O stilI e an ! l oh , 819 THE «OIJHE» S 6RAVB ...-'• * ^5" ooo •OXC OP TH - B HIINTBa' . . S BIUD. B Affl prou ) d^^t( ^ ^^ owj g WBBK 8HOVLD tOVESS BBBATHE TBBIE VOWS . «? » My hirth, dawe thougth f woet no hbu ! e 2 THE IMPROMSATRICE.
My chitdhood passed 'mid radiant things, My power 6sbut & wu&an"sr paw&; Glorious as Hope's imaginiqs; Yet, in that great and glakiurrfs dbwm Statues but known from shapes of the earth, Which Ocnifxg gin& I had my part: By being too Iovefy for mortal birth; I poured my fall and brtr;hing Bmrt Paintingayw,cjlllpqrs of life were caught In song, cLnd cm. tfie' c8n~assmade From the fai tints in the rainbow wrought; My hams of beauty visible; Music whose sighs had a speU Iike those lknow not w%i& I loved the mo&- That ffoat on the s-? at the evepiDg's close; Pencil or lu"t,&bth &vet.€ so dricll. +page that,weqr word Was me tfra lq@,'s,aydceag chord ; Oh, p& my puf& Wobs io. recall, Skies half sunshine,. and hG'starIight; When first upon t3w g&ery's wall Rowers whqaF+liTegw~ a breath of delight; Picture of minh was placed, to Ishat& Leaves whose gqpq pomp knew no withering; Wonder and pdse fro& eiich' bno the$&! ' Fountains bqigttt2yt tfie, ~SKeQ,af our spring; Sab w&re dry shades methinks th6y 6&? Almost a tuna of prop%&$- And songs wbose.wild. . ,* t- ag4pssionat.e line Suited a.soul of romance like mine. I ever had, fir ' » * M wfcofy1 e Irsth ! e, DtruM& lyr«was, oft a . gorgeous taB, «« , Mt n. * * i_ «. * L%htei up for festival; Lte ^min f fiffc f ^% fw f ^W o 1^,T tresses^ M<,! an|0 lwd e ^^ wwrfof UOOB_ , «f«ff» and foma-wMte plme; He i I4ke wha t»Wt « tta»o e ^^,o nsunniea ^ r B%hi. Tkmm a t f kaem e mt ftfe Youths aad aaaens with fcandt, ^Tj^^ j^ ^..^^ O f |WB Sfixr He r cye Joined in the gw^fiil stmbwds, ^ gprfag.fe ' «««»«» blue, a s s y oa tte cai,, ass; tmt apart e lth Haaagmai t dB0 t^f co t Woere, Was o»e who tout m slkat mood ^^ w gloo d an f light d an > t tears Btt nf As revelr sks hi k o ytaftrt t Was raised abstractedl Heaveo yt n— : hej Wer t( f o sf g lawN f eQwa worsr ^e^ than veriest solitude P»!c, o.rk-ey«d, bcautifol, a«d foung, I jointed her with golden tresses, Sach as h« had shone o'er my slumbers, » ^^g^ g wiad e th n o t floa s a h Bnc When I had only slept to dream W\ien the kbnniums wUdly fling Over agai magis nhi c numbers. Tfaeir SUJtny blossom springe th o st . THR IMPROMSATRIC&: A cheek YMch had the crimson hue O’er some, Lo~e’ashadow day but p4ss UPOSthe m-totiched nmtame 3 . As passes‘the breathatain o’& glass; A lip of *me and of dew; And pleasures, ems, nxid pGde ~o~~i~~d, A bqtmlike twilight’s darkened line. Fill up the blaak Love leave&behid I strpve to catch each-charm that 1osg But there we sonit? whose love Is tiigb, Has lived,-tbrrPks to bet lover’s song! Entire, and sole idolatry; Each grace he numbered one by one, Who, turning from a hearths worfd, That shone in her of Avignon. Ask some d&r thing which may renew AfTection’a severed links, and be I ener thou@ thst pet’s fate As truc as they themselves are true. U&terIylone and deso&tte. But Love’s bright fount is never pure; Aud his pilgrims rhust endbre It is the spirit%bittsrest +. pain . all To love, to be beIoved win; All passion’s mighty suffering And yet between a gulf which ever Bethey may rcach the b~ssscdcrpfhg. The hearts that burn to meet must sever. And somc who waste their lives to find And he wxq vopaed to one sweet star, A prize which they may never *: Bright yet #a him, but bright afar. 8 TXE MPROVISATRICE. Like those who search for kern’s groves, Her brow was ghastly; and her lip Which found, they may not wter in. Was parched, &s fever were its breath. Where is the sorrow but appears There was a shade upon her dark, In Love’s long cataIogne qf tears! Large, floating eyes, as if each spark And some there are who leave the path Of minstrel eestacy was ff ed, €n agony and fierce disdain ; Yet, leaving them no tears to shed; But bear upon each cankered breast Fixed in their hopelessness of care, The scar that never heals again. And reckless in their great despaii. She sat beneath a cypress tree, My next waa of a minstrel too, A Iittle fountain ran beside, Who proved what woman’s hand might do, And, in the distance, one dark rock When, true to the heart pulse, it woke Threw its long shadow o’er the tide; The harp. Her hqad was bending dom, And to the west, where the nightfall As if in weariness, and near, Was darkening day’s gemm’d coronal, But unworn, was a laurel crown. Its white shafts crimsoning in the sb, She was not beautiful, if hloom Arose the sun-god’s sanctuary. And smiles form beauty; for, like death, 10 I deemed, tbat of lyre, life, and bye It wag. npt song that taught pe love, Shc was a long, I& EarttweU takinlg;~- But it was love that taught me mng. That, from hor pals and parehed iips, Her latest, wildest song ms breaking. If song be pa&, spd hapc undone, And p&e, and head, and heart, are flame ; ww'evw It is thy work, thou faithless one I FAREWELL,my hts!-and wodd that I But, no !-I will hot name thy name! Had never U&& 6hy burning chords ! Poison has been upon thy sigh, Sun-god, lute, wreath, are vowed to thee! ' And fever has bFeathed in thy words. Long be their light upon my grave- My glorious grave-yon deep blue w: Yet wherefare, wherefore &uld I blame I shall sleep calm beneath its wave! Thy power; ths speQ my geutlest lritie? - I should bve &tte~tb-b-2 m, FLOREWCE! with wbaf idolatry Had ewpy chord.4 thine been mute. I 'vc lingered in thy radiant hdk, Worshipping, till my dizzy eye It was my evil stiv abve,. Grew dim with gazing on those walls, Not my sweet lute, that wrought me-wrong; ,,„. THE IMFROV18ATRICE, 13 E IMPnOVlSATKICETH 1*4. «..,.,...* In 8§ed tCB>ple, ruined shrine, Where Time had spared each glorious gift And its greea wreath of ivy twine;— By Genius unto Memory left! „ , , ,. , In every change of earth and sky, And when seen by the pate moonlight, . . , Breathed the deep soul of poesy. More pure, more perfect, though less bright, What dream sonf so g brainflashey m n ,do loveI t ye d s not;—buA t each wild. Till each shade seemed to live again: , , , .- , , High though nourishetI d raise pyrda e j i » - e - And ;hetN»utiful« nth , the grand, lovr Ughto et Fo ; and lighted once , . , The glorious of my native laud, ., By love, it would be like the fire evern I y flower that ttire veiws it l burnine Th g lava floods that dwell , , , , . Aside, when wooed by the spring gale; . , .. In Etna's cave unquenchable. everya l vineyard, wher »»»e eth , His tas summef ko r ripening done, „, .. . , . •> One evening in the lovely June, * 6 Shon thein eo r clusters sona d g an , ^ i- * ^1 t *i «. *»,,«„». Over the Arno's waters gliding, 8 »' Came lightly fropeasane mth t throng;— ^* beeIn nth watchine dim e faig th lovelines r moon s of night, In fountains with their diamond light, Anoi r cowdhe f whitto e clouds ridia- «'< 3 14 THE IMPROVISATR1CE. THB 1J1PROVISAXBICE. 15 hold dAn their straf secred ean t power beerd , ha , I listenin galee th ,o gt Which wafted music from around, Bve pleasure'n uo s goldea hour. (For scarce a lover, at that hour, I "ad besea looking en the river, t wake Bu mandolin's dhi s light sound),— Half-marvellin thino gt k that ever And odour was upon the breeze, Wind, wave, or sky, could darisea where Sweet thefts from rose and lemon trees. All seemed so gentle and so fair: And mingled with these thoughts there came They stole me froaa my Wling dream, A tale, just one that Memory keeps— And said they knew that sue houn ha r Forgotten music, till seme chance eved rHa influenc souly m , n eo Vibrat chore eth d whereo t nsleepsi ! And raised my sweetest minstrel power. I took my lute,—my eye had been A MOORISH ROMANCE. Wandering round the lovely scene, SOFTLY through the pomegranate groves Filled with those melancholy tears, Came the gentle song of the doves; Which come when all most bright appears, Shone the fruit in the evening light, Like Indian rubies, blood-red and bright; 16 THE IM»ROVISA*PRieB. THE IMPROVMATRICE. 17 Shoo date-treee kth s each tuftiet hea*j «*! Darklin greend gan , with jus spaca t e As the passing wind their green hats shed?;s Wot the stars to shine on the water's face, And, like smaldarA kl columns,bark lay?, amidrthwaitin nighr gfo A tsKy « S s breezit d wafhido ed t An s flightan etit .giane Th t palms ascende 1 hign 1* do h 5? And the mosque's gilded minaret v« ** Sweet is the burthen, and lovely the freight, Glistened and glanced Us the daylight*net. ?> fit For which those furled-up sails await, Over the town a crimson haze* ».« *> - * To a garden, fair as those Gathere hund d an f the go eve«ing'*tays fi » Wher rose e glorth eth e f yo And for beyond* lik* molten geM* 5 s w! »Ht Blushes, charmed from the decay, e burninTh g sandis o£;^e desert rofled. A* ^ That wastes other blooms away; a se d ; 5an ,» y M sk ^ lefte e th th , o t r Fa Garden feire th yf so tal e Mingled their gray immensity! ^n ?; i : Told, wood-firtile th l e grows pale, wit d Arae hth An bflappiny tribesB g, jai wheidld lean n pwwwnight,, »I I *H The vessels threw\theip*h«de§sbetesr^ii ,71W With ite dim and lovely light, r dow bea0h»»wherFa e nth s siJteieeit d An , esaitet >»cyipi«SsgMV««h well f Casts its shade round,fcIjttleeopjjw i *ft-'ft With the magic tales they tell. € 1MPKOWSATBICEE 9 1 TH . BfPROVISATRlCEE TH . 8 1 Through that cypress avenue, A low song from a lonely dare, si a 8 exil so h 8 e »?«»<*«A *««g * Suc gardeha n meet viewe sth , Filled with flowers-flowers that seem Breathing of fresh fields, summer skies- o »t e breatbew No t tebu si f dSo hs! Lighted up sunbeambe yth ; Fruits of gold and gems, and leaves : But fairer smile and sweeter sigh Green as Hope before it grieves Are near when LEILA'S step is nigh! O'er the false and broken-hearted, - With eyes dark as the midnight time. * • u i •*„ n ,«»,+. Al , K, l witKa«h imrtmwhichi its yout^ h has panea, Yet lighted like» summer eclime J ' Never to retur , n„„_,; ag«m„ » , , > With sun-rays from withinw no t ye ; Save in memorie. s o„£«„;t pain„ !I linger» s a cloud upo* n that browy*— ,i'\ Though never lovelier brow was giye» There is a white rose in yon bower, » To Houri of an Eastern hewen! But holds it a yet fairer flower: » Her eye is dw^ing on tbat bower, And music from that cage is breathing, i As every leaf and every flower Round whic jasminha e bra wreathingds i , Were being numbere heartr he n di y looko Thern e s ear lik e those which dwell f 5 c 2 20 THE pnPROVISATRICE- THE I3tPR0VISATRICE. 21 On long'-remerabered things, which soon The hymn the mother taught her child Must take our first and last farewell! Is song each evening at her tomb. But quick the twilight time has past, Day fades apace: another day, lake one of those sweet calms that last momen moreA o n d cheeo t , an t r That maide awayr n fa wU e b ,l A wanderer o'er the dark-H'-ie sea, The turmoil of our pathway here. And bound for lovely Italy, He rbar s mother' Th waitins k i bay e th ,sn gi lau d1 Beaoe hea *o r breast The cross beneath a Mosiish vest; Night darkens round :~LBIIA, away! And hence those sweetest sounds, that seem* Far to-morrowe ,er , tideo'ee th r* Like musie mummin r wai be—AsDAttA'd O an t A.gn i dream,s bride J » r sleepinWhe ringinou s i n r i gea g touchee Sh lute—never dhe r sonagaie nightingale Th gth n 4ng«»gs ei » When by that white and funeral stone, *, Her ear will listen to its strain! too e cager kSh he rsHttf'Mdde,f t kisse brtiost*e d th $»e-ey y nb —f ress gloom, I Then freed the white dove prisoned there: ,>» THE IMPROVISATBieE, 23 55* THE IMPRO¥18ATKKE. * B t pauseI T. momene handr don he n ,, o t :, • , t j And bade the wandering captive flee, Them, n sprea glas dit , d., airw»age th t. o ,st . . ,-, . Ii n words hJe knew from infancy! th3thoughe d nsh An t how lovfor rehe . , , ,,, . , , , A ,draa e , breathSh c,e ,kth t weri s a ,e health, & braved ha e d H slaver deathd yan , iia i i , „ , . . , „, That sighed from e^ery scented Wossom; . , . « , -v'u That he might only breathe the air , takinAM g iro Alm each on eleafa , . ^ „ ' , T,;. HiTTt , .dj• them, hke spells, apoMadn hee sweer breath r sacrebosomd he an ty db . . r >? ne Themi n soughti:"^IL"t the' secre*t patiht again ^ reached the &grov e of cypresses,— i Sh_,, e once tbefor, * e iha. di itraced j> whet n Tlay Another sterp is b•?y her? side: f^ 5 AA Christia^t • M- n i«n ihei: r ^mther» i.i - s chain; Another moment e barth kd an , ; * >; / .. , t- iv ^A SL^I* ' Bears the fair Moor across the tide! And gave him gold, Mid taught the way : j ? ;; u : i ; v e thougho flyT Sh . t upo e nightnth , i ° i i j^i V v . , ,. _Tr, 'Twas beautiful pale th e y moonlightb , , J When, like an angel of the light, ' ", ; , ^ ; // maro eyes,—nor T khe w dark brightw no , , , . Y . ' „ She stood before the prisoner a sight, t ; ; nos wA they met, now shran k* away, , , , , , . e cypresth o t sm grovehi d le * d An ; v ^ M = : . S, , ;- i V ^ ,i-jv i From theB gaze that watched and worshipped And showed the bark and luduan cove; h : «, >;; v,,/, • their day. 24 THE IMPJWVtSATRlCE. THE IMPROVISATKICB. 25 They stood on the deck, and the midnight .gate OS mi^y:-*«4h^y just could see Just waved the maiden's silver veil-** ' i The distant shore of Italy, Just lifted a curt* as if to show As the dim moon through vapours shone—• The cheek of rose that was burning *etew:. > A few short rays, her light was gone. And never spread a sky of blue , O'er head a sullen scream mis heard, More clear lor the stars to wande* through! As sougbi the land the white sea-bird, And never could fcheir mirror be • < Her pale wings like a meteor streaming. A calmer or a lov«lier sea! •»• ^ y« Upon the waves a light is gleaming— For every wave was a diamond gleam; * Ill-omened brightness, sent by Death And that light vessel wel ligho l night-blace mighT th t t seemk depths 'beneath . A fairy ship, and that graceful pair .• The ves i relied amid the surge; c f Young Genii, whose horn© was of light and air! The winds howled round it, like a dirge Sun somy gb e savage race. Then came Another evening came, but darks The rush of thunder and of flame: 'The storm clouds hovered round the Jbarjc , it It showed two forms upon the deck,— f One clasped around the other's neck, m THE IMPBOVISAT1UCE. THfi IMPEOVI8ATRICB7 3 . As there she could not dream of fear- Loug ^ awayf Benealh Hg Bhad|jf .__^.,_ lover'r Inhe s arms could dange neare b r ? f tor made t thf h couc n gree t Asof He stood an ^dM g watched ^An ^d he gurn wit .gh ^. the^ eye Of fixed and silent agony. > reclining § bough c th h beneat e thos u O The wave hearr felse he swepth t : on t Hw e $ ga drew r thr e fishe Ncare Beat close and ctoser ye hiso tt ! ? maid h op f thhai e Mooris Thk e dar They burst njwn the ship Wthe sea » j breast e tli r o e g floafm j veil a e Lik Has closed upon their dream of Uissi ._ wad hey sJaid rhea temdCTl e Wher And yet her lover's arm was placed Surely theirs is a pleasant sleep, Clasping around the graceful waist! Beneath that ancient cedar tree, But then hc marked the y0nth's black curls ^¥hose solitary stem has stood Were dripping wet ^^ foam and blood. For years alone beside the seal j^^ that the maiden»s tresses dark The last o mosfa t noble race, Were heavy ^ ^e brinth y flood, That onctherd eha e their dwelling-place, \yoe wind!—wo e foth r wavee th r !efo They sleep the slumber of the gravel E nWWOVISATRBJETH 9 2 . IMPROVfSATRICEB TH .2 8 They buriem thent » d»As lifthed Re°*>ha m beebeneatn felt,h tha— t tree; It long had been a sacred spot. And mine was sealed iu the s3%ht gaze Soo wat ni s planted round with flowers ^"^ fixed ^ e yd foee>au d my b*»in, By many who had not forgot; ' And bowed m? heart beneath the chain. Or yet live thosn di e dreams of truth, 'Twa sa ** k and fl^^ W The Eden birds of early youth, Shadows, too, that tenderly, That make the loveliness of love t * With almost femalc softaess> cai»e And caUe place dth TH e* E MAIN'S COVB, °'*& "*»&* Zlo »d flameman ' ' That she who perished in the sea His cheek was ^le; or **• w <***• Might thus be kept in memory. ' Or midniSht stud?>tad been tliere* ' > • i ___, Makin_ s youngit g colours dull, FROM t lecammanp Ye ^li W eya sound ^ «««s o*f twflW praise ; , - Jl , «%,^v;« » . , LikT. , e music from sweeRavet voicen curls sringing their shado; w threw, -•- ' For many a Hoat had gathered rbund, ' * Likc the ^a^t'8 darkefli^ hue' To list the son tagI d "been singittg. s" ' ° >e^e ^^rd th ean ^ ^ow !< Therm, e are some moment_ , -.*s„ 4it-t oui,,>,&,f fete* -S '' ' Of Ms hig&h and haught^ y' brow• ;* That stamp the colour of our days; J 80 THE mPRWJM*»ie£. PfRB IMPROVISATR1CE. 01 r owou »n I &£<>*?> ^veLighte smitea r y bendb , twhose speB Words are powerless .to tefl. More Sraceful> more magnificent; Suc lip!*~ohha , poured from theffisfc Ne'er lo<*' king e e herodth th ,r >o Lava floods of ela^enee More »obly thaf' e y°nw th l uo *hwh Would come wtth fie*y energy, As if soul-centfed in my song, Like those words thai cannot die. Was leaning oa a galley's prow* spoke H t whe e-oftenno Worde nth Orecifte th *s «poken w^riO» 5 f ^oke When the Perrfan% ehaia he br»k«^ His heart was all too full for p^j ^s hi t ^Bu 8O kerP tha* fit^^ low» anffitoed hoae' y tone; Making notta'B. hear ows M tn j W111^ sank beneath their burning gaze. Suc shouls ha d te h*a* t rifWda , Mine sank-bu thril e felI t th t ltye In the dim and sweet sterlight; of that lo°k «i*g on me t&L Sounds that hauftt a beawty's sleep, l heard no word that others said— Treasares for her heart to keep. Heard nothing, save one tow-breathed sigh. Like the pine of suaw»»* tali; M7 hand keP* wandering on my lute, Apollo, on Ms pedestal In music> but unconsciously; THE IMPROVIBATRICE. TR16 IBCPROVIRATRICE. Dly pulses throbbed, my hwt beat high, And in the midet, beneath a shade A flush of dizzy ecstasy Of clustered rose, a fountain played, Crimsoned my cheek; I felt mm tesrs Sprinkling its scented waters round, Dimming my sight, yet was it swwt, With a meet arid lulling sound,-- My wild heart’s most bewildering bat, O’er oranges, like Eastern gold, Consciousness, without hopes or fears, Hallhidden by the dark green fold Of their large leaves ;--o’er hyacinth bells, Of a new power within me waking, Like light before thc,morn’s full breaking. Where every summer odour dwells. And, nestled the midst, n pair I left the boat--the crowd: my mood iu Of white wood-doves, wliose home was there: Made my soul pant for solitude. And, like an echo to their song, At times a past along; Amid my palace lialls was one, murmur The most puliarly my own: A dying tone, a plaining fall, The roof was blue and fretted gold, So sad, so wild, so musical- As wiud The floor was of the Parian stone, the swept across the wire, Arid waked my lorte A3olian lyre, Shiuing like snow, as only meet For the light tread of fairy feet; I, 4 § THE IMPROVISATR1CE. -THE IMKROVISATRICE5 3 . couca n I thre o rest o ht e wm , Whic upoy easementhe la nth , where The lattice wooed the cold night air, Loosely I flung my long black hair; Half hidden hy a bridal twine It seemed to soothe my troubled breast drino T quiee kth t eveninOf jasming aire. wit emerale hth d vine. lookeI d upo deep-blue nth Ane skydcurtaine eveth ,s a r s made A varying light, a changeful shade, And it was all hope and harmony. breezAe sth e wave dfrod the,an mo t Afa Arno'e I coulrth e sdse stream glorioue th e ey s e Camshoth wn eo Gloryin cleae th rn g i moonbeam ; Of pictured walls, where landscape wild shadowe th d gazey An ym ^t cit , yme Of wood streamd an , r mountaio , n piled, memorm Likdi e othef eth yo r days; Or sunny vale, or twilight grove, , And the distant wood's black coronal « Or shapes whose every look was love? Was like oblivion, that covereth all. Saints, whose diviner glance seemed caught I know not why my soul felt sad; From Heaven,—seme, whose I touche earthlie lute,—iy dm r thought woul t wakent dno , t morye es lovely,—shonWa e like gleams songd Savol sorrowingf o seo t — hopf O Oef betrayed—oBeauty's spirif heartt see dreamssn ni forsaken . : D2 THE IMOPROVXSATRKE* 37 g(J THE IWHPRtfVISATRICl. Yet turned he not: one moment's grief, Eaeh lay of lighter feeing slept, ^ ^ ^ ^^ ^ ^ ^ 1 Sang, tot, as I sang, I wept. ^ ^^ ^ ^ ^ ^^ m Passed o'e urgee r horseh hims n dhi O .; E CHARMETH D CUP. Hill, ford valled an , y spurre, by e dh AND fondly round his neck she clung; whed s c$stje-g3.tAn ahi e wis,s nigh, Her long blabk tresses round him flung,— ,i * White foam wa§ on his 'broidered rein, Love-chains, which would not let him part; ,.,„,,*• And each piQod-rea spud rha d stain. An could'feee dh beatinr he l g heart, t soo enteree Bu nh d that tair hall: , The pulses of her small white hand, , < His laugh Tkas loudest there of au; e tear coule Th ssh mor o dn e command, thap cu tAn wone namde th on blessto et , whicp li e h trembledTh , though near his, l rf * > • t *> A ™ , _ j; Was drained for its forgetfukess. The sigh that miiigled with tier MsS;— * , ^ The ring, once next Ms heart, was broken; t parteYe froe dh m that embrace. , i The gold chain kept another token. He cast one glance upon her face: ',!„>•* Where is the curl he rased to wear— His very sdul felt sick to see ^, (l ,, « The raven tress of silken hair? Its look of utter misery; 8S « iWOTuauo* « WHMHWAWIC.. 39 The winds have seatterad it. A braid, • And he i» bartering his heart Of the M spring day's golden shade, F°r ** *whic h ifc ha'h •» !•*• Waves with the dark plume crests hi n .so There's manl thail n ty a cling loveo st ; f l elsal eFrese above;t thion hs Bu i colour— s ate upon^ hi!. •s !,,»»,«*breast:. » r e slighTh m,t bin,.e ,scarf, 1simplesf 1o , t etow e, n ;,«»i*at fnM F° ~l°v* e *° bow before the name s changeI wovef o d e fonon r, .gela , j,___ _,*ji .« ' Of this world's treasure: shame', oh, shame! , . ,, . , An , d h, e is by a maiden's wingsidey Loveth ,s e «b ,s ligh thoss ta e j s »& Whos_, e gems o„f price, , an^d, *ebe..,.s Aof| rtlpride4 j_ , ; That waf,t the zephyr jr from the rose,— » " * * Woul_ d suidaughtee . th t ,tang.a f .ro ; I.A e i^«,-. * This may be pardoned^-something rare , ,. , . In loveliness has been thy snare I And diamonds ate glistening * * t howUpo Bu r armn,he fai. r Ther Lovecure on t et , „»*»«» canssmno u t «tho anfu\ becom e Unfastened. . by * .lod ,p oef ^pearlM-1 . - A thinge of mines—a sordid gnomee ? And he is whispering in her ear , , . ,. , . , And she whom JULIAN left—she stood Soft words tha tt ladies love tort hMhear. ,* A cold white statue; as the blood Alas'.-the tale is quickly told- »< > ^ « » P y ' Had e vaio her last wild ra er His love hath felt the curse of gold! ' Mown to her heart, and frozen there. 40 THE IMPROVaSATBICB. TBF IMim0YISA*fKKUBi* 41 Upon her temple, uach dark v^in * »J It was a daric and tempest night— Swelled in ita agony of pain. -„, «"/ No pleasant moon; no West starlight; Chill, heavy damps were on herbrow? PS i >*« But taeieors glancing o'er the way, Her arms were stretched at tength> though iow .'Ctolyr,fti>!ifezs4le^n* betray," Their clasp was -on the empty air: . * And who is she that, 'mid the storm, funeraA l pall-^her long bladk hair. «;. vff Wraps he»5%ht mafttle roun r formdhe ? Fell over her; hersel tome fth b * 3 J t.1 ~-- Hs t witr haiwe h s ri raisleet d nan , Of her own yoath» and.breath, and blw>«>i«l And%lobfl is«o» her small snow feet. ,* *«o,*i «.-5 She has been forced a way to make Alas? shonUifivethan tma r win*- .-...r Through pricklyrwee thoraed dan d brake, So sweet a shrine to Shame und ,fiin • .» «5 J Up rousing irem- its cott the snake; As womaa'* heart^^»4deepei d stirrinAn >g vpet?tfrop* A t IDABu Wheentere celle th n , a dfollowedi , lik curseea crase th , h lightnin e pinee Oth th f n si g flash:— Where dwel wizare delle th tth .f do r hear deadHe y la tr life-bloo he , d froze placfear-f A o evif d e—o an l Oh! what can JULIAN'S love do herel To look upon the shape which rose To bar her entrance. On that face On, on the pale girl went. At last Was scarcely left a single trace humaf O n gloomlikenesse Th parchee y th fores: dt skidepthn paste sar , reaches ha An e wizard'e dsh dth s den, Showed each discoloured bone within; Accursed by God and shunned by men. And, but for the most evil stare wile th d f eyesO ' unearthly glare, Anbeen dba n nevea lai d d rha corpsea s woulu wa yo ,t I Upod hav morna e saide unwholesom, e shade. There grew dank elders, and the yew Prom which life's freshness long had fled. Its thick sepulchral shadow threw; Yet IDA knelt her down and prayed And brooded there each bird most foul, To that dark sorcerer for his aid. The gloomy bat and sullen owl. He heard her prayer with withering look; Then from unholy herbs he took 44 THE IMPROVISATRICE. THE IMPROVISATRZCB. 45 A drug, and said it would recover Those passionate complaints that wring woman'A s heart lose t nevetTh ye , r faithles hearrhe brinf to sg lover. She trembled as she turned to see Redress. She called upon each tree witneso T r lonshe e constancy demos Hi n! sneer's malignity; And every step was winged with dread. She called upon the silent boughs, temple r JULIAN'Th he f eo S vows heao curse T rth e howle flede sh .s da Of happiness too dearly bought! purple th s i e t twilighI t hour, Then wept again t lengtA thoughe . hsh t And JULIAN is in IDA'S bower. Upon the forest sorcerer's gift— He has brought gold, as gold could bless The last, lone hope that love had left! tooe kissecupe d Sh k th an brim e , dth , wors Hi uttef ke r desolateness! He has brought gems, as if Despair Mixed the dark spell, and gave it him - Had any .pride in being fair! To pledge his once dear IDA'S name! drane H . kit Instantl flam e t IDyth ABu e only wept wreathed ,an d t 5 Her white arms roun s neckdhi ; then breathed ftaw througf s reinsfiere hhi on y: throb Of bitter pain—one gaspinb gso ,~ THE iMPBovrsAsrme®, 4? MPROTTSAfRICEE TH . » 4 * , ., , , , ™. I sough gallerye th t waI : s wont 4 Of agony—the cold death-sweat J To ass the face—his hi n o s I *s teet sete ,har .— f .. . a . P noontide there, and trace „. , ., . , . ..,, Some statue's shape of loveliness— burstins Hi g eye glazee sar still d dan : 3 l Th„» e dru ,don s wors gha e it , ill f ko . , ., , e .„ Some saint, some nymph, or muse's face. Alaa! for her who watched each breath, Ther ^en i raPtur el coul d thrw The cup her lore had mixed bore-death. M? Ps hueit eoci d s laa " ^ And, as the vision past me, pour My song of passion, joy, and pride. there,—LOHENZs Anwa e dh O there! LoRENZol-when next morning came, How soon tbe moraing Past awa^ For the first time I heard thy name! With fiadin& beau*ies in each thing LoRENZot—how each ear-pulse drank Neither ^d seen before that day! The more than music of that tone! sPirit of LoYe! soon thy rose.plumes wear LORENZO!—ho e weie sullth Th gyd cankef o h tBn d cw«ran w sigheI : d that name, As breathing it, made it mine own! Falsehood is round thee; Hope leads thee on, Till ever fro e pinioy ymhu th s goneni . 48 (5«p; IMP»0?|SAT»K3«. m fi^ftOVJSATMCE. 49 owneI brighBue d ac on tmysel o t t momen loved,-^I fl thin al s eti mm*- visibly th e e presencer The eon kppfR*s e.i , f^6 ^4 Of ^Te I^mBNza breathed; When , soatVibe likwine th eth f do y |Wi^, Btr fiveI tmagia n di c ring, Sunning tip heaveas, sweetenpf .the |^r> y f»leasanCtfwa t flower wreathed. Is felt, but not seen. Thou art 8^f^aiwl|?alm A brighter blae was on the sky, As the sleep of a chiWi as *h^ 4wi?4fft^ balm. A sweeter breath in music's sigh; Fea not,darkles rha d th§e; Hop^ has »ff%made ^g grange sltrub l seemesal be«o dt r The blossoms expand t bnt,ofeasj,i » fi^> f^nit fiibi« rMi budd ,an s more feir, Nothing is known of,those wearing foprt,; The>* wa« a glory on the noon, Which will shadow the light.ffl tfay*af|ejttyears. A, bHaaty in tlie crescent moon, Then art thou Wiss;-r-bttt ooce throw by # A lalliflg ^to^ss in the night, The veil which sbtouds thf diiinit||, v\, j. A feeUagitellie pafe starKght. t Stand canfe88ed»-ran quietisJWy dth » ' !„ Theresa *'charmea dwinde notth n ,eo Wild flashes, of raptur s|feA Foetry'Bo et ways e^ia deeep Iwi^store—^ Jl t paiiBu » will rbe with. them. |P*ff § rt®torrpa e Heart-uttered words, passionate thoughts'• , The gentle happiness known jhejoref/, t ^ Which I had never marked before. £ MPWOt'tSATRJCEE 1 5 TH . 1KPEOVISATRICBE TH 5.0 "Fwas as my heart's full happiness And never yet had praise been derfr, than o ts eveningA mino t , e ear. Poure excessn ow ds * it oye l ral LORENZO prous e b wa o dt I ! One night there was a gorgeous feast Worshipped and flattered but for thee! For maskers ia COUNT LEON'S hail; «**™ » «**'* *°™- gallantf o An l dal , feiryoungd an , , Were biddefestivae th o nt l PLAYFU fire-fliese wilth d s Ldan a ' light, I went, garbed as a Hindoo girl,; This moment hidden, the aext moment bright, Upon each arm an amulet, Like the foam on the darlc-gre&i sea, spele th i l s loveI thame y m y lais rb i tn do sidy Anm elittla y db e lute Of sandal-wood with gold beset. Were your sigh as sweet as the sunjbaTs sigh, And"shal prous than wa dI t ow I l Whe evenine wine th nth f d o nighs gi ; hearo T , ami gazine dth g crowd, Were your smite like that glorious light, murmuA delightf o r , when first Seen deee wheth stare p nm th midnight sge ; My mask and veil aside I threw? « Were that sigh and that smile for ever the same— For well my conscious cheek betrayed They werd shadows, not fuel, to love's dulled flame.' Whose eye was gazing on me too! K 2 52 T«E IMPROVISATRICE. THE IMPROVISATRICE. 53 Love once formed an amulet, T» , , , , nulltf nnnrnow t the note s TI waked were sad With pearls, and a rainbow, and rose-leaves set. . ,, . . . 1 A« those the pming wood-dove sings. pearle Th s were pur pearls ea s coul, dbe INDIAE TH N BRIDE. And whit s maideea n purity; The rose had the beauty and breath of soul, SHE has lighted her lamp, and crowned it with An rainbow-changee dth s crowne wholee dth . flowers Frown on your lover oae little while, The sweetest ^ ^^ rf ^ ^^ ^ Deare rwhit d wilan led brogeeRe ihg e^ ligh^t o^f &you ^r smile; Let your blush, laugb, and sigh ever mingle together, Like a maiden>g Wush or & ^.^ ^ _ Lik bloome eth , sun cloudsweed e th an , f tso spring Jasmineey-some like silver spray weather' Some li^ gold in the morning ray; Love never *nust sleep in security, Fragrant starSj_and favourites ^ Or most calm and cold will his waking be. . - When Indian girls, on a festival^day, ———— ' J> Braid their ^rk tresses: and over all weaves And as that .light strain died away, . The rosy bower of lotus leaves— Agai nI swep breathine th t g strings; Canopy suitin lamp-lightee gth d bark, Love's own flowers, and Love's own ark, 54 THE IMPROV1SATRICK. THE IMPROVISATOICE. §5 She watche sunse e skye th dth , t grew dim; Therthousana e eEr d fanciful things She raise CAMDEo dt r eveninOhe g hymn. Linked roun youne dth g heart's imaginings. The scent of the night-flowers came on the air; In its first love-dream, a leaf or a flower And then, like a bird escaped from the snare, Is gifted then with a spell and a power: She flew to the river—(no moon was bright, A shade is an omen, a dream is a sign, But the stars and the fire-flies gave her their light); From r/hich the maiden can well divine She stood beneath the mangoes' shade, Passion's whole history. Those only can tell havo eWh loveHal youns da f delighteg heart lovn welldo sca e s an ,d half afraid; She trimmed the lamp, and breathed on each bloom, How the pulses will beat, and the cheek will be (Oh, that breat s sweetehwa r tha l theinal r per- dyed, fumet) When they have some love-augury tried. Threw spices and oil on the spire of flame, Oh, it is not for those whose feelings are cold, Called thrice on her absent lover's name; Withered by care, or blunted by gold; And every pulse throbbed as she gave Whose brows have darkened with many years, Her little boat to the Ganges' wave. To feel again youth's hopes and fears— B KHMnraAltaen7 TH 5 , 56 , THE WRQTOATOlCf. What they mo wstartline mighth o T tg blus trumpet'e voicth confesso f ht eo , s ,call! — l t Yst what made their spring-day's hfippinesM . >, . the cymWs clash I—to the atabai! t o T bannere Th crimsof so ' • ' * ne sun• floath ' ,n i t ZAIDE watched her flower-built vessel gjid?, , ,,; The warfare is'ended, the battle is won. Mirrored beneath on the deep-blue tide,; , The mother hath taken the child from her breast, raisefather's d looit o t n An kt do i sLovel crest lonelyd yan . , scente brightd dan , Like Hope's own bark, all bloom and light <• The pathway is Kned, as the bands pass along, There's not one breath of wind on the air, , * With maidens, who meet them with flowers and song. The heaven* are cloudless, the waters-are fiur,,,, > And ZAH>E hath forgotten in Azra's arms No dew is falling; yet woe to that jbadei , „ All her so false temp'p falser alarms. v e maideTh s nweeping—hei r lam s decayedpha . ' -• • > * ' < * - This lookbridal,—tha t sno e singer mutee sar , Hark to the ring of the eymetar 5 , ,, « , .1. Still is the mandore, and breathless the lute? t tellI s tha soldiee th t r Tenni thert Ye e sthe-brid from afer, , ef. r dar, sits, He k. hai bouacSs ri , Dowa from the .mountain® the warriors .come:, <, And tLe robe of hei* marriage floats whiie'on the ground. ; f Hark to the thunder-roll of the drumW- Oh! \vhere is the lover, the bridegroom 1—oh! where? Look unde blacn yo r k pall—the bridegroo mtheres i ! 58 TOE IMPROVI8ATRICE. ^E PWOVISATO1CE. §9 Yel guestbiddene al th tsame e e fease sth ar th ,s i t, From acrowd Mk sea-wavee eth s there cambreatha t eno , And the bride plights her troth amid smoke and 'mid When the maiden stood by the place of death! momene On s given—thwa t e lase mighsh t t spare! I „ They have raised the death-pyre of Sweet-scented wood, To the mother, who stood in her weeping there. And sprinkled it o'er with the eacred flood She took the jewels that shone on her hand; Gangese O fth priest e Th assemble.e sar d ;-tM tooe kSh frordarr msonhe k ghai flowers rit y band, Sinks dee4r s scattered thepea e oAn yn th bea dr tbhe«mr along rottnd, - ^ *«* «** »*• That bride of the dead. Ay e ^nots i ,Th , thif ™&«*$o s love! ™*- lt>ve in ** W*» A That one pure, Wild feeling all others above: P^yer is wttered, a btetng S3id^ Her tor is Vowed to the living, tod kept to the tomb!- <* *«!~-she is by the 4^d. e haSh * «re pilet e oncdA th !e ther blighsams e bloom s wat it i it Th en s esn i i a t cam . e With no tear in her eye, and m change in her smile, A mingled rush of smoke and of flame; Young ZAm wine comd Th d* ha swep eftmoae nigth t offi to h t !.bride,~e pileth The .w ysa ~ dancing-girle belle th f Th so s ceased from their sound; laid Ar b,yhe w sid sidey eb . Silent they stood by tliat holiest mound. The **** ^ spread the long curls of her hair: Like a banner of fire they played on the air. I mmOVJSATOIC*E TH 6.0 THB BIHMnwUflWBtt1 6 . The smoke and the flame gathered round as before, The harp was echoing the lute, Then cleared;—bu bride sees th t mareo enwa a ! Soft vdtees*answere flutee th o ,dt : And, like rills in the noontide clear, }i Beneat flame-hune hth g gondolier, s s shade e d e le th mirroi e I heard the words of praise, but not " P°P ^ Shon voice on e f e statthaO What witirweet waters, sw^etet flirwerfri i»i' And ye^lwl burstoig;^sel>'one!thing> i heuT^.wits wa Th r eai h ptsfom^ '"^ sj " >'« Whic s hP^*ha l»•>*» saflfrinf,-* ' « », 63 THE immtm&XtKtC*. TH* IMPKOVffiAtrBKJB. 63 momene On t more l io Th*™e laugs gladtoown, stes h e a lightt pa ,th —, The song as sweet, the glance as bright; ' I shrank before * I turned me from the cr»wd, and reached' Wa» not more "* than his own! A spot whleh seemed tinsought by aft { - They wer e •"th e »aliked ha e h : An alcove ffiMnrftii steute and ftowert, Thick-elustering curls the Roman wore-^ Bue fixe d Th «*»Wt dlightean d yby'th eyee distan- : t hall, With om or two fair statues-pkced, The smile wbich P"* like %htning °'er Like deities of the «M* shrfmei ^ curved UP* We ^d Qet sPeak' That human art should wtom But thfi hw* breatbed u^a ^ «heefe^ lookee SucW hd rounshaped s^ so utterl thosey ™ dMnfcd^n! g looks, A deep sigh breathed,-! knew the tone; mich seek **» ^ft r tbe» ^aze' My cheek, blushed- w**ra, my heant beafe h%h;- As if each, other's glance was like The too much light of morning's rays. THE IMPROVISATRXCE. I saw a youth beside me kneel; I loved him, too, as woman loves-- I hcrtrd my name in music ~0~1; Reckless of surrow, sin, or scorn : I felt my hand trembling in his ;- Life had no evil deatiuy Another moment, and his kiss That, with him, I could not have borne! Had burnt upon it; when, like thought, I had been nurst in pdttces; So swift it past, my hand -8 throws Yet earth had not a spot so drear, Away, as if in sudden pain. That I should not have thought a home L~RENZOlike a dream had flom! In Paradise, had he been near! We did not meet again:-he seemed How sweet it would have been to dwell, To stiun each spot where I might *be; Apart from all, in some green dell And, it was said, another claimed Of sunny beauty, lea~eeand flowers ; The heartrt-.more than the wwld&awM Andtae6tling birds to eing the hours! Our home, beneath some chesnut's shade, I loved him as young Geaius .loio.~yes~ But of the aoven branches made: When .its-amwild and radio& ?haaven Our vaap.hpa; the low, lone wail Of starry thought burns with theet, The roseheate Erorn the nightingale; Thc love, the life, by passion given. THE IXP'ROVISATRICF. THE IBWROVISATRfCE. And waked at morning by tlw call To meet the arrow; so. I met Of music from a waterfall. Rily poisoned shaft of suffering. But not alone in dreams like this, And as that bird, with drooping crest Breathed ia the very hope.of bliss, And broken Wiug, will seek his nest, I loved: my love had been the same But seek in aaiiti 80 Y&R I sought In hushed despair, in open shsme. Mypleasnat home of ,song and thought, I would haw rather been a slave; There was one $p4 UPOR my brain, In tears, in bondage, by his side, Upon my peml, on my strain; Than shared in all, if wanting him, But one fwe t9 my colours came; This world had power to give beside! My chords replied but to one name--- My heart was withered,--.snd my heart Lo~EN~!~seemed vowed to thee, Had ever been the world to me; To passion, and to misery! And love had ken the first fond dream, I had no interest in the things Whose life Was in reality. That once had been like life, or light; I had sprung from my solitud6 No tale ww plawnt t~ mine ear, Like a yoltag bird tipon the wing No song was sweet, no picture bright. F2 8 6 THE U*PBOVX8AT»ICE. THJS mWWWftASHWfl*9 6 . I was wild with my great distress, * must my beating heart restrain— loney .tiey M m , r hopelessness > ! Must veiburniny m l g brow! woulI sidt e hourdsi th e y sb Oh musI , t coldly k:. hido mt e Of some clear rill, and mark it glide, ' One thought, all else above- Bearin teary gm s along ' ,« till night Must call upon my woman's pride Came with dark hours? and soft starlight? To hide my woman's love! Watch o'er its shadowy beauty keeping, Check dreams I never may avow; Till I grew calm:-r4hea I would take Be free, be Careless, cold as thoui ! thos teare Oh e ar bitterness f so beelutee y da nTh , , l sleepinwhieal d hha g Upo neyp«ea m tree d waK*-Aan , e« <™A witim, . > & e Wrung from thfe breaking heart, echoee jnwmgne th Th . sof r ai t £^ ™U«;«T»* oir »^ When two, blest in their tenderness, With words that lovs wrung fro«a«dfspa|r* Must leaito to Mve^-apart! t wha thee Bu ar tthao yt t lone siglu | j . , n- ~ •-.,!?'' ' • ° SON*}. , , That cold and fixed despair, FAiiEWELL!-we;Shall,ttot»eet^» n That weight 6f wasting agdny As we are parttog.now! ,o->. ,„ ww ' lt musfc be mine to be^^ THE IMPROVI8ATRICE. 71 70 THE IMPROYISATRICE. t everBu y timplacd ean e wile b l Methinks I should not thus repine, With thy remembrance fraught! If I had but one vow of thine. Farewell! we have not often met,— I could forgive inconstancy, We may not meet again; momene on e b t o loveT theey db t heart y seae se m th s tn li o t Bu With me the hope of life is gone, ; Love never sets in vain! The sun of joy is set; Fruitless as constancy may be, One wish my soul still dwells «f»0n-*- No chance, no change, may turn from thee The wish it could forget. loves ha Ondo theewh e wildly, well,— I would forget that look, that tone, t whosBu e first love-vow breathed—farewell My heart hath all too dearly known. But who could ever yefc efface ——— From memory love's enduring trace? layd s An which only tol lovf dJ o e u r r ., complainy revolty ma ma l l ,al —Al J In all its varied sorrowing, thers i o e wh nas t y Bu brea chaine kth l The echoes of the broken heart, Farewein- , the« Ie b shal t lao Were alHhe coul aoagw dno ssingI . More than a passing thought; B BWBOVHMOTUO*TH , iMWMmsA-raicE73E TH 7. 2 Legends of olden times in Greece, , ? And primroses, pale gems of spring, greee th n ao tury fLa glistening s taleit » d Whe; flowea ha t t nno bu r When spirits haunted each green oate; ' , ^ violete Closth y e,b whose breath When voices spoke in every gale* v • • -' Is so sweet in a dewy wreath. When uot a star shone in the sky And oh, that myrtle! how green it grew! Without its own tove history. * With flowers as white as the pearls of dew • Ami . mans dit e y on song f s wa i That shone be8idegloriou* th d ?an s rose That suited well with my sick mind, LaF> 1&» a beaaty in warm repose, I san t gwhei breate nth • flowerf ho s Blushin brighs wa r tslumbern gi ai e Th . Came aweefc upo e midnighnth t wind. * < Wit e spiri hth s glod crimso it tan f w o n light. LEADES AJJD CYDi^PE. , .,>-* - CyDiPPE had turned from her columned hall, ten I rr twilighhe t sa e t bowerSh , { > Where queee th , worshippes n t»e feastwa fth e sh , y db A temple formed of leaf and flower; all; Rose and myrtle framed the roof, . »• Where the vases were burning wMh spices and flowers, To a shower of Afril proof* > «••• 1 And the odorous waters were playing in showers; 74 THE IMPEOyiSAmiCI. t« iWMnMSIMOB. 75 And lamps were blasting—those lamps of perfume ^^ bve,s ^ ^ ^s it ^ gtoe> Which shed suc charha m of light over the bloom Cling sfo t straw d gta>an i trasts ^ Of woman, when Pleasur spele» l has thrown Oh> more thao jOij.^^^ tjmt f,ove Over one night-hour and made it her own, ShouW ^y tto ^ might wer be rubAne d?th mm- Ease geme Ath tsth f haso d these melted aw»y; Its young ^e^^ ^a i^ia^y> . And the bards were singing those sonp That bright eyes and the gobkt so well inspire j— Loverg &fe ^^ cMdnen then; WhUe she, the gter pridd y aa ihf eo e liour, , Fancyin thoussnln gte l feveris hapeshf , Sat silent and sad in her .secret bower! Until their y^ht ^^^ .^^^ - A look worda , thes i , n recalled, There is a grief that wastes the heart, ^ thought upon uaia it wsass, £dke milde tulip'& n wo s dyes,— Wha , perhapsis t ver,a y shade, When hope, deferred but to depart, The tone m& aspect of oar fears. Loses its smiles, but keeps its sighs: And tMs was *hat was withering now The radiance of CYBIPPE'S brow. E IMPROVJBATR1GETH 7 7 . IMKROVTOATRICiSE TH . 6 7 She watched until her cheek grew pale $ Bttt a stately warrior came from afar; The green wave bore no bounding sail: **e Dore on bis bosom the glorious scar Her sight grew dim; 'mid the blue air So worshipped by woman—the death-seal of War. No snotfry dove came floating there, An maiden'e dth seasn a hear ys prizewa t , deae Th r scrol beneatd lbi wings hhi , When valou faitd an rh wer r sacrificeehe . With plume and soft eye glistening, To seek again, in leafy dome, Methinks, might that sweet season last, n The nest of its accustomed home! I which our first love-dream is past; doubte caresEr d jealoud san ,an s painStil awayr , fa l , o'er ! , lanseasd dan , Lingere faithlese dth Q fl ftwAT s s" *&EABIS . the heart'. ! s dianttmd-cbain ?—• ^ <> Men might forget to think on Heaven, thoughe Sh thn o te spring days d , wheha e nsh And t Hav ssweet-sie ye eth « forgiven. been, Lonel lonelyd yan ,n&a|dea a queen ^- ; *- ,«• e marriage-feasth Bu e er t s spreadwa t , When passion to he? was a^ storm at sea, * LEADBS said that he must br6dk Heard'mi e greedth n land's tranquillity. » ^ '^s 8 7 THE IMPROVISATRICE. «•• MnWWMSOTia9 7 . To e thparse * t oaco T awhil cleao es «e- feWob we or that best fight, Thos s summeIt e eyers %* whic d «»*an h fixfc*d ««** hi* *ever : yM Just press again his native shore, Darkening, beneath its tearful lid, And then he would that shore resign Like a *&**»** violetl o ^T tch th* ^nner-roi dear Forhe esake o hifo toH,t m whs obwa His household-god!—-Ms spirit's shrine! Pass from «» cheekl^to mark tew plain, Upon the wan and sunken brow, Hecameaoti Ttie» the heart's decay Become the wanderings of eaefa vek! Wasted her silently away:- The shadowy *"* 80 thia- 80 P^^1 e **&&Th A sweestepl—tht founte ,droopin whic mid-dae hth g n headysu ! Has all too hotly looked upon! The long ****** <* neglected hair! ; The Up whence red and smile are fled! It is most sad to watch the fell And havin& *»*«**thtts' ^ ^ ^> Of autumn leavesl-but wors al! lt0 ^Sht' life> ^d ^tour' P^ a^1 It is to watch the flower of spring To see» at len«tb'the gjassy eye Faded in its fresh blossoming! K* ^ ™ ^ead mortality^ Mark the last ray, catch the last breatb, Forgotten toit, forgottext are, Till the grave sets its sign of destl~! All hia worn heart tias bad to bear. That heart is full! He hears tlic sigh This was CYDTPPE’Bfate!-%’bey bki That breathed ‘ Farewell!’ so tenderly. The maiden underneath the shad0 If even then it was most sweet, Of a green cyprt?se,--and that.Jwur What will it be that now they meet? The tree was withered, aid rtoud bard Alas! atas! Ho17e’s fair deceit! The Spring brought leaves to other trees, He spurred o’er land, has cut the wave, But never other leaf grew therat To look bat on CYDIPPE’Sgrave. It stood, ’mid others flou~6l~ing, A blighted, solitary thing, It has blossomed in beauty, that lone trcc, LEADIE’kiss restored its bloon: ; For wild be kiissed the withered stem- It grew upon CYDXPPE’Stomb! And there he dwelt. The hottest ray, Still dew upon the branches f~y G m THE IMPBOVJSATRIGfi. THE JMPROViSATRIC^. 88 Like constant tears. The winter came; Pallazzos with their marble halls But still the green tree stood the same, Green gardens, silver waterfalls, And it was said, at evening's close, And orange groves and citron shades, cavalierd An soundark-eyed A s an whisperef do d maidsd musi; c rose? That 'twas the trace of viewless feet Sweet voices singing, echoes sent Mad flowere eth s more than flowers sweet. From man yrich-tonea d instrument. At length LBADEcoulI t b(jadno Sr diedtWjg .loTeHnegs That day, , Bark and green foliage pa^t away It was on such a night as this Fro lonee mth , tree,—agai {. , « nthina g That lovdrealighted y em ha mp du Of wonder and of perishing! Of long despair and short-lived bliss. I sough citye th t ; wanderin J , gon * _,___ * ! * Unconscious where my steps might be; One evening I had roamed heside . „. My heart was deep in other thoughts-. l placeAl s e windinwer Arno'e Th eth f alikgo s me:o etidet | . t »,,,— ;/ • The sky was flooded with n«W%¥; . •! At length Flopped beneath the walls Below were waterg az;wr^ brig;ht,.,...-,.- i< Of San Mark's oM cathedral haHh. : c 2 IMPROYISATRICEE TH . 4 8 *HB JOTRQYWATRICE5 8 . I entered:—-and, beneath the roof, And coloured as each pictured pane Tea thousand wax-lights burnt on high; • Shed o'er the blase its crimson stain:— And iacease on the censers famed ' While, from the window o'er my head, As for some great solemnity. A dim and sickly §leam was shed The white-robed choristers were singing; - Fronl $*e young moon,—enough to show, Their cheerful pee belle th l s were ringing: That tom tabled bbelowan y la t . Then deep-voiced music floated round * * leant upon one monument,— As the far srehes sent forth sound— ! 'Twas sacred to unhappy Iqve: The stately organ:—and fair bands On it were carved * blighted pine— Of young girls strewed brokeA , withn lavisring—h ahands wounde, d dove. Violets o'er the mdsaic floor; And two or three brief worjs tpld all And sang while scattering the sweet store. Her history who lay beneath;— flowers—ae Th ' t mor bridalr nhe flowers,'— I turned me to a distant aisfe, ' Formed, ere the eve, her funeral wreath.' Wher feebla t ebu e glimmering came < I coul t e,nvdbu y her, ,(Itsel1 though darknessn fi smile * ' th f e)o Sent fro taperse mth ' perfumed flam*; HQW noe *t i mus i e thue di b t o st vfiti /J»«UB UH»»OVI<*ATRICE. ^BE IMVHOVJSATKIflE? 8 . Your last looks watched,—-your last sigli caught, LonfeNZo t speakl no d Mo-?di I , As life or heaven were ia that sigh! My heart beat high, but could not break. Passing in loveliness snd light; , • j I shrieked not, wept not; but stood them Your heart as pure,—your cheek as bright Motionless to my still despair; As the spring'-rosej whose petals shut* 1s As I were forced by some strange thrall, beao T looro t unseorehedn wit all,n kd o su h—an y B showey b , r «awe? . , tj Leaving behin dmemora j heary hymne dth I hear, d the row* ; Shrine love'n di s fond ' eternity. (Min throbr eea s with them even now!) I saw the young bride's timid cheek But I was wakened from this dream Blushing beneath her silver veiL B ybursa Loferaw tsa oI £ Kght—* kneela! gos Methoughsong—f ho , . t A welcome, as the stately doors* , r > ('Twas but a thought!) he too wa« fate. Poured in « gay and gorgeous throngs. • 5 But when ift ended^ and hifr lip I could see all from whore I stood. *' Was prest to her's—I saw no more! Aa4 first I looked upon the bride j < f,, My heart grew co!4-*-«ay br^n swalM round,-— sanI jiula ks Sh upone anewa dth iwele cMstey girlir? floor- \ ..!, t But, oh CSod! who was by her side?—« » « , THE IAlI’ROVIS ATN IC X. 89 1 lived,-if that may be called life, Whom Love tangtit such deep happiness, From which each charm of l8c has fled- And whom Love left so desolatc. Hiippiness gone, &h hope and love,- I drew hcr on a rocky shore:- In ail but breath already dead, Hcr black hair loose, and sprinkled o’er With white sea-foam ;-her arms wcrc bare, Iiust gathered on tlic silent chords Flung upwards in their last despair. Of my neglected lyre.es-the breeze Her naked feet the pebbles pest; Was uow its mistress: mwic brought The tempest-wind sang in her vest: For me too bitter memories! A wild stare in her glassy eyes ; The ivy darkened o’er my bowex; White lips, as parched by their hot sighs; A4round, the weeds chobd every .flowet,. And cheek more pallid thau the spray, I pleased me in this desolatcuess, Which, cold and colourless, on it lay :- .4s cilch thing bore my fate’s imprcss~ Just such a statue 88 should be Placed ever, Love! beside thy shrine; At length Imqdemyself a task--. Warning thy victims of what ills-- To pint tbcrt Cretan maiden’s fate, What bumiug tears, false god! are thine’ tO THE IMPEOVISATBiCB* **» IM^ROVISATBICE. M fiUe s haly darkline wa lM d th wits Beforhwa g thir seasehe perfum; e - Behind the barren mountains rose— Sent from the early orange bloom : A fit home for the broken heart The fountain, in the midst, waa fraught To weep away life, wrings, and w«es! With rich hues from the sunset caught;*— And the first song came from the dove, I had now but one feope>*-tl*&t when Nestling ia the shrub alcove. The hand that traced these tints was cold— But why pause on my happiness 1— Its pulse but io tiieir passion Been,***- ' Another step was with mine there! LOBBNZO might these tints behold, Another sigh than naiae made sweet. And feid my grief ?-4bink-*.sec—feel fell With its dear i>reath the scented air! I felt, ia this Taemowal! LOKENZO! could it be my haad That now was trembling in thine «wn? evefii»g,*-4he on s wa t I e rese'%ht •> * LORENZO! coulmine b r t dei ea Was -0% each-green veranda shining^ That drank the music of thy tone? Spring was just breaking, and white buds Wer latticea e y 'mib s d,u tli whert esa darkerive e W y twining; >' Cam esoothine iuth g evening breeze, m THE IMmoVISATRICB. THE XMPEOyiSATBICE. 93 Rich with the gifts of early ftowers, ** A ddicate* fa* t^gr-but made And the soft wind-lute's symphonies* '! *» W£ W^6' or summer 8hade5~- And in the twilight's vesper-hour, < A slender fl '- /», '" fe.* t»iq ^*j ^\ M h> U Had more of pity than of love! laiPHOVTSAfRICEE TH , 4 0 ^HB IMPBOVI8ATRIC5 9 & firsy tTh fevea loos rk wa spell 1— t wit I thoughne hr $hahe f to t deep, Intensest memory love will ktep Thy first word was an oracle More tenderly than life. Tope Which sealed my fate worshippedtheeI ! , She was but as a dream of home,—- My beautiful, bright deity! One of those calm and pleasant thoughts Worshipped thee as a sacred thing Geniusf ThaO t o'e' higsoldier'e rth h imagining?s spirit come— ; Rememberin t loveBu sweedy gth the r himte fo revealin , wheng battle lows, woman'f O O mosfn twilighstow gentfte walk feeling firesidd san ' .e hours. I might have broken fro chaie mth n I came to thy bright FI.OIHSNCE when Thy power* thy gtory round ni« flung 1 The task of blood was done; « But never might forget thy Wush— I saw thee! Had I lived befool l The smile *Me» «n % **&& lips tag! sighty th n !i I live t Ondbu e lim o nighn y, life'butOh t thfip begttt. thay b , t blushAy e summe!th r *os > e * Fro y haimth r fell»myrtle blossom; relia s c wa tha t I t breathe t morno es f thee:luxurdo Ha f light—yo !* ' * - * Ay, by those eyes! whose language is » • -- 1 - Look! it hn» withered in my bosom! Like what the clear stars speak at night, 96 THE IXPROVISATRICE. THE IMPROMSATRICE. Yet was I wretched, though I dwelt She f&d. Oh, my peerless queen, Iu the sweet sight of Paradise: I need not pray thee pardon me A curse lay on me. But not now, For ownirlg that my heart then felt Thus smiled upon by those dear eyes, For any ether than for thee? Will I think over thoughts of pain. I bore her to.thoe wre iylcs I’ll oaly tell thee that the line ’ Where health dwells by the side of spring; That ever told Love’s misery, And deemed their green and sunny vales, Ne’er told of misery like mine! And calm adfragrant airs, might briiig 1 wedded.-I could not have borne Warmth to the cheek, light to the eye, To see the young IANTEIEblighted Of her wbe we6 tcu, young,to die. By that worst blight the spring can know- It ~v&n;‘vtdn !end, day by day, Trusting affection ill requited! The gentle ereatwe died away. As parts the odour. the rose,- Oh, wag it that she was too fair, from Too innocent for this damp earth; As fades tb-,&y And that her native star above She past so tcndtjr .and.so fair; Reclaimed again its gentle birth? So patienfj!fhougl\ sbe. knew ,eaw bw4S. if E *MPROVISATRICBTH 9 9 . IMPROV1SATRICBE TH . 8 9 miln d lastr ow Migh smilr he ;he e eb t sky-lark'e Gladth s a s .earliest song- Parted her placid lips in death. Sweet as the sigh of the spring gale! Her grave is under southern skies; A11> a11 «"* ™* will ever be, Green turf and flowers o'er it rise. Shone o'er, divinest love! by thee. Oh! nothing but a pale spring wreath ____ Would fadlieo se wh beneatho'e r rhe ! raocker» Oh haf ygav I prayers-* PP-r ehe ess! I gav tearsr ehe - staiI d awhile beside her grave, Lovlat° to saeo t e1 ™ 110a1 - s W wa Then led by Hope, and led by Love, False Lo™! <*» wha* ** you to do , ,, With one you had led to the grave? Again I cutt the azure wave. J fi e me 8 What hav ! eI mor _ . Me say o et y ,m v 100 . THE IMPROVtSATRICE. THE mpnoviSATRICE. 101 But now I would have given worlds That rose is fading in the noon, changeo T crimsoe th , n hectic's flame An dI shal t outlivno l e that rose! For the pure rose of health; to live Come, let me lean upon thy breast, deaFoe rth y lastlifM e jtha best t Lovplac f ehappiegeo could tgive rest., —Oh, youth may sicken at its hloom, Once more let me breathe thy sighs— And wealth and fame pray tomb;foe rth — Look 0nce mor thogen i e watching eyesl But can love bear from love to part, Oh, but fof thee> and grief of thin^ And not cling to that one dear heart\ And parting, l shouW not repine, I shrank awa dees i t yI p frohappinesm death,—m dieo st , y tears t liv Love'n Ye ei bee d Ha ns unwepdear othememoryn i t r years:. — t thus Bu love'n i , s first ecstasy, Thou wilt remember me,—my name Was it not worse than death to die? Is linked with beauty and with fame. LORENZO! I would live for theet The summer airs, the summer sky, e soothinTh g spel Music'f lo t thos sigh,-Bu u wil—t havI e weem o et r pfo kisses ha Tha mornine n dth su t g dews,— Star thein si r poetr nightf yo , I shall not see its twilight close1. The silver silence of moonlight,—. TUB IMPROV1SATRICE. l($J IMPROVISATRKJEE TH 10% * brows Hi sculpturs a , e beautiful, twilighe blusThm th edi f ho t hours, Was waa as Grief's corroded page. The fragranc bee-kissee th f eo d Sowers;— He had uo words, he had no smiles,' But, more than all, sweet songs will be No hopes:—his sole employ to brood Thrice sacred unto Love and me. Silently ove sics hi rk heart LORENZO thie b ! s kis sspella ! solitudesorron n i I d wan . „ My first!—my last! FAREWEM. !—FAREWELL I hale th l daywherew y b sa y ,I da , e museH s weardhi y life away;— , . , ,, , It scarcely seemed a place for woe, THERE is a lone and stately hall, alt — J r , „ ... „ But rather like a genie's home. & mastes It r dwells apart from all. » iA « T I i Around were graceful statues ranged, 6 A wanderer througA h Itali alands , One night a refuge there I found. A»d Picturcs sbone around the d°me* The lightnin gt ther flasBu *h wa rolle* «dne o'e~ar th^^e sky , °^— The torrent rain was sweqnng round:- Oue I^W brightest of all there! painter'e neveth ! d Oh di rs dream „ ,„ „ * entranceyoungs e Thesm wa n e , eH wo . Thm e castle',,,.,s lord, ,bu t .!•<„„„pale like age. ; Shape *thin gloriouslo gs s ye fair ! j 1&CPROV1SATRICKE TH 104 . T'TK IMKROVISATKICE105 . SapphoA love turned er eha r o ,d face!—a s Itwa the, summe y da r heare stonTh o t e where onc t burnedt emori no es I radian. lights it n i t! Dark flashing eyes, likdeee eth p stars B* U picture' e byth s placesids ewa d Lighting the azure brow of night; A funeral urn, on which was traced heart'e Th s recordeA blusd hwretchedness; like sunris rosee eth o'e—;r tableta n o d , AhunAn cloug ravef abovedo n ,hair, whose shade Was sweet as evening's, and whose curls Was 'graved one tribute of sad words— ' LORENZClustereO T dMINSTREs O beneatm hlaurea L LOVE.l braid' . She leant upo harp:—onna e hand Wandered, like snow, ami chordse dth ; The lips were opening with such life, You almost heard the silvery words. lookee Sh dfora lighf mlife,d o an t— l soul l passionAl l fireal , al d ; an , A priestes Apollo'sf so , when The morning beam falls on her lyre; TALES, AND MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. v ROSALIE. wila ds tale—anTi d sad sig,e tooth h s ,a That young lips breathe when Love's first drcamings fly; When blight cankerwormsd san chillind an , g showers, Come withering o'e ware rth m heart's passion-flowers. Love! gentlest spirit tel thee,o f d o l I ! — Of all thy thousand hopes, thy many fears, morniny Th g blusheseveniny th d gan , tears; What thou hast ever been, and still will be,— Life's best, but most betraying witchery! . 110 ROSALIE. ROSALIE. Ill It is a uight of summer,—and the sea And there are many, who, with witching song Sleeps wild d,Au likguitar' echilda mutsn i , soul-thrilline tranquillityg melody. , Soft o'e deep-blue rth e wav moonlighe lute'e eth th r s O meltint breaksg music; , float along Gleaming white ,th fro t e mcloudou s zoneit f so , O'e blue rth e waters, stilsilentlyd lan . Like beauty's changeful smile, when tha t seeki t s That nigh NAPLEd ha t S sen besr he t t display Some face it loves yet fears to dwell upon. Of young and gallant, beautiful and gay. wavee motionlessTh e sar , save wher oare eth , Light a» Love's anger, and as quickly gone, There was a bark a little way apart Has broke upon i n their azure sleep. rest e therd Fro loverth o ,an l metw al s leant:— Odours are on the air:—the gale has been One with a blushing cheek and beating heart, Wandering in groves where the rich roses weep,— And bashful glance, upon the sea-wave bent; Where orange, citron, and the soft lime-flowers She might not meet the gaze the other sent Shed forth their fragrance to night's dewy hours. Upon her beauty;—but the half-breathed sighs, Afar the distant city meets the gaze, The deepening colour, timid smiling eyes, Where towe turrepatd e th ran e n Eghti t shine, Told thalistenee sh t d Love's sweet flatteries. Seen like the monuments «f other days—- Then they were silent:—words are little aid Monuments rfhne half shadows, half displays. To Love, whose deepest vows are ever made 112 ROSALIE, ROSALIE. 113 gaUinA gheart'e Bchainyth r sj beawhost silenc, alonee pressur Oh $ e.i e wfll jntrude, Love' peculian sow r eloquenc bliss!f eo — Fettering Mirth's step Pleasure'd ,an s lightest mood. Music swept past:—it was a simple tone; But it has wakened heartfelt sympathies;— Where are her thoughts thus wandering!—A spot, broughs ha t I distant w intNo o tlif fare pictures thing,i mind,r he sn d —o pasgone d an t ; s wakeneHa thos chesnuU A da e secret shadowint memories whitw lo , gea cot, , smotherede b Thay tma t tha,bu t still will be With rosjasmind ean e roun casemene dth t twined, Present within thy soul, young ROSALIE I Mixed with the myrtle-tree's luxuriant blind notee roused Th sha answerinn da g chord within:-?- Alone, (oM should such solitud here?e eb ) In other days, that song he rage n vespeA d forr mbym beend beneatnba . shade hth e reclined, Her altered look is pale:—that dewy eye Whose eye glanced round the scene;—and then a tear Almost belies the smile hvr rich Ups wear;—- Told that she missed one in her heart enshrined! That smil mockes ei scarce-breathina y db g sigh, Then came remembrance othef so r times, Which teU silenf s o suppressed an t d eare~— Whe opee r ricnev d he h bowerpale th er daysfo ; Tells tha life witherins eti th g with despair, Whe fainte nth , distant tone convenf so t chimes More irksome fro s unsunnemit d silentness— Were answere lute vesped th e an y db r lay;—' I A festering woun spirie dth t pine bearo t s ; * i 114 ROSALIE. ROSALIE, 115 When the fond motlier blest her gentle child, Till each glad bark at length had sought th& shore, And for her welfare prayed the Virgin mild. And the waves echoed to the lute no more;— Then sought their gay palazzo, where the ray lampf O s shed lighAnt onlh ds y*steeo t lesagelefe e th pst d «a brigh t than day; r nightlHe y couch with tear thar sfo thertd losAn et thechild,y feaste— d tilmore flinth ld ndi g blusher He s o'er ROSALIE,—whe , theiTh r mirtweep o t revellingd e han ,ag o r lefhe .t When that the tempter flattered her and wiled And life was as a tale of faerie,— r stepHe s wheaways A homn n ,som ow efro r beguiledmehe Easter. n genie rears bright bowers, And spreads the green turf and the coloured flowers; calld sAn upo earthe n th sea e skye ,th th , , She starte agony:—hen i p du e ey r Met MANFREW'3. Softly he spoke, and smiled, To yield their treasures for some gentle queen, Memory is past, and thought and feeling lie Whose reign is over the enchanted scene., dream—ale ROSAPJLosd on An n i t pledged Sha l wil throwe dmagia don dien nco cup. — They floated o'er the waters, till the moon The maddening cup of pleasure and of we! Looke r zenithe d n fro hi blue noon,y mth e sk — r onehe ,r onlTherfo s y edreawa earth,mn o ! onle on y r stahe rr Therabove!fo s ewa — i2 116 MBA™. ROSAMB> U7 She -bent in passionate idolatry There .g a ^ chapd fa ^ ^^ Before her heart's sole idol—MANFBEDI! „,, -i • i_ , , , Where many a pilgrim has kuelt down and prayed sweee Toth t saint, whose portrait, o'eshrinee rth , n. The painter's skill has made all but divine. Tis night again—a soft and summer night;— wat I spalea melanchola , y . face— 0 8 A deep-blue heaven, white clouds, ,moon and star- .,,,.,, cheeA k which bor trace eth frequen f eo t tears, light;—- And worn by grief,—though grief might not efface So calm, so beautiful, that human eye Ihe seal that beauty set in happier years; Might wee looo p t suc n ko htranquia l sky:— And broe sucth whsmiln a o appear s ea s A night just formed for Hope's first dream of bliss, Of one whose earthly thoughts, long since subdued Or for Love's yet more perfect happiness! Past this life's joys and sorrows, hopes and fears— The worldly dreams o'er which the many brood,— , . mooe Th o'e_ s ni grovra cypresf eo s trees, 1 he heart-beat hushed m mud and chastened mood,, Weeping,. like mourners plainin e . th n i , g breeze; 10 « was the image of the maid who wept Echoing the music of a rill, whose song . I hose precious tears tL jul and purify. -Glide sweetlyo d s sad o s t , alongbu , . t r Love yet upon her lip his station kept, But heaven and heavenly thoughts were in her eye. 8 11 ROSALIE. JlOBAXm. U9 One knelt before the shrine, with cheek as pafe A little while her dream of Miss remained,— littlA e col e whath d s ewhitA Love'sswa e marble thi n e wingsb Ca . s were left unchained. The young—the loved—the happy BosAii*! But change came o'er the trusted MAKFBEW: Alas hears !Hi talas forgo !s vowe her'it t commoa s dsi idolatryn tale:;— She trusted,—a forgottes hi d s An youtn lov lefs brooo ht te wa eve believed;s d rha — She heard Love's vows—confided—was deceived 1 O'er wrongs and ruin in her solitude! Oh, Love! thy essence is thy purity! How very desolate that breast must be, Breathe one unhallowed breath upon thy flame Whose only joyance is in memory! whad An t must womaAngons i ever,—anr t di efo n suffer t leavedbu , thus s betrayed?— sullieA d vase—its purheart'r He e lighs most los tshame n warti precioud man ! s feelings made But things wherewit woundo ht : that heart—so weak, And BOSAME was loved,—not with that pure So soft—*laid open to the vulture's beak! And hol swees yIt passiot revealingn whichs endurecagivescore o t nag p nu ; t loveBu d with wilself-consumind dan t burn I t tha ye bearo st d musg an , borne e fires,b t —! A torch which glares—and scorches—and expires. JM?0 ROSALIE. EOSA^E. 121 And, sorer still, that bitterer emotion, With sweet and bitter thoughts! There might be rest— knoo T shrine wth e whic woundee h Th haspin'r dou ds dovdevotioe wilnl flee int r nestohe — Is that of a false deity!—to look , That mother's arms might fold her child again. » cole dTh world Uposcorn eyee worshippedcruene e th sw th , l smit broo d vainn ei an , k, Their cold reply! Yet these are all for heri—- And falsehood be remembered no more, The rude world's outcast, and love's wanderer! In that calm shelter:-—and she might weep o'er Alar fault find sHe I tha e dsan forgivenesssh t t loveno d , whic sweeHa o s . s hi thinga t , Should ever cause guilt, grief, or suffering! * To whom she knelt found pardon in the eyes upoe sh nt Heavenf whosO Ye eofferin n i fac, sunbeame eth r sacrific gfo se fall— That dark-eyed girl—had felt their bitterest thrall! A broken heart? And might not pardon be Also for her? She looked up to the face thaf O t pal than eShi saind te gentlthoughan ti e browt upot lover ther,no d nhe s an j ewa In passion's recor greee don n sunny spot— Which seeme holo dt d communion wit r thoughthhe , madnesbeea d . l ha dreama nal t d I san , Thersmila s eewa which gave hope energy. The shadow of a flower on the stream, She prayed one deep, wild prayer,—that she might gain Which seems, but is not; and then memory turned The home sh6 hoped:—then sought that home again. lonr r he bosoe he o mother T mw burneHo . d It 2 13 ROSAMB. 3 12 ROSALIE. lookind An g round upo flusA n beaut f eacho h s upoy i lovel skye nth —y thing , Eve's lasbreathind t An war sweee mgth blushesr-Bkt air thes ,a y coulcrimsoe eth de brinndy g The maiden wears, when first her dark eyes meet To her no beauty and no solacing. gracefue Th l lover's, sighin r feethe .t ga 'Tis ROSALIEvainn i t r praye.no s He ! rwa And there were sounds of music on the breeze, The truant-child has sought her home again! And perfume shaken from the citron trees; Whil dare eth k chesnut t musI worte b t s hlif care,a toid f caugheo an l — goldea t n ray On their green leaves tese th ,t bright gif dayf o t ; Worth those dark chain weariee sth muse don t bear And peasants daneing gaily in the shade Who toils up fortune's steep,—all that can wring To the soft mandolin, whose light notes made The wom.out bosom ^^ lojw suffi;ring)_ glae Ath nd o echvoicet t ofi s singing. Worth rest,leSSness, oppression, goading fears, The twilight spirit his sweet arn is flinging And Jong.^^^ hopes of many ycaWfr_ Of dew upott the lime and orange-stems, To reach again that little quiet spot, And giving to the rose pead diadems. So well loved once, and never quite forgot ;— To trace again the steps of infeney, catcd hAn theiTherr freshnespilgria s ei thay mgred b sol t y fro treem , their memory! With head upon her hand bent mournfully; 5 12 ROSALIE. 4 12 ROSALIE. dancint no s gwa gaile Sh y wit reste hth : And it is triumph, sure, when fortune's sun A rose-cheeked child withi r arm prests nhe swa ; Has shone upon us, and our task is done, twined Anha smals t di dit l iiaihande th r n si To show our harvest to the eyes which were That clustered o'er its mother's brow: as fair Once all the world to us! Perhaps there are buds A springn si gav e laughinr Sh ehe . g dove Some who had presaged kindly of our youth. To one who clasped it with a father's love; Feel we not proud their prophecy was sooth? Anpainter' a sough d f di ha e scena t sey e felw t ho ROSALIE]—Th t Bu e verr yai Of love in its most perfect loveliness— Seeme t broughi s da t reproache ey !o n ther s ewa , „ Of childhood, and of wedded happiness,_ looo T k delighted, welcome nontheres ewa ! woule H d have painte sweee dth t MADELINE! She felt as feels an outcast wandering by But ROSALIE shrank from them, and she strayed Where every door is closed! She looked around;— Through a small grove of cypresses, whose shade She heard some voices' sweet familiar sound. " „ burying-groundHuna r e go ston,w wherlo e e eth There were some changed d som,an e remembered things: i *.*.' A And the grey cross recorded those now gone! There were girls, whom she left in their first springs, m, < ^herewas a grave just closed. Not one seemed near, Now blushed into full beauty. There was one m long—lastribute e th on y f eo Pa 0 t1 tear! Who lovee msh d tenderl gonedayn yi w sno ! 126 ROSALIE. ROSALIE. 127 t shoni t eBu o'e desolatee rth flowere HoTh !w s very desolate mus e tb thae on t Whose more than grave has not a memory! Were dead. the faded jeaSMnil|^ anboundj Trailed, like a heavy weed, upon the ground; Then ROSALIE thought ofeld e moonnth lAn heirigh mother't ^^s age,oye—r treeg j Just such her end woul wite db h her away: t eyeWhicno nd Qnhha e ro8eyi-althoilg e ^hth ^ No child the last cold death-pang i3 assuage— Almost ftg if in mocker^ had broughfc No child hy her neglected tomb to pray! Sweet toneg |t from ^ nightingale had caught ? She asked—and like a hope from Heaven it came!— To hear them answer with a stranger's name. She entered in thg cottage> None ^^ ^^ The hearth was dark,—the walls looked cold and hare! She reache r mother'dhe s cottage thay b ; t gate All—all spoke povert sufferingd yan ! She thought how her once lover wont to wait Aj^U wag changed bufd ,can Qne ^ ^ To honie r telhe l d tales!—and thethoughe nsh t pkced Kcpol s tit ! RogALIE>s maudolin On all the utter ruin he had wrought! Hung on the ^ where u had ^& ^^ The moon shone brightly, as it used to do There was one other room,—and ROSALIE youthe Er hoped loved an ,beed an , ha ,n untrue; 8 12 HOSAUE. Sought for her mother there. A heavy flame Gleamed fro mdyina g lamp cola ; camr dai e Damp from the broken ca§emenj» T^re, f>ne lay, H O L A N D' S T O W E R Like marble seen but by the moonlight ray I LEGEN A RHINEE TH P D.O And ROSAME drew near. One withered hand Was stretched, a§ it would reac wretcheha d stand ^ H K 180 A LEGEND OF THE RHINE. A i,ECENI> OF THE BmNE jgj Is scarcely visible. How like this is Like ^roman, they have lost their loveliest gift, falso s ee exterioth worlde o T th f ro ' When yieldin fiere th yo g t hou passionf o r : Outside all looks so fresh and beautiful; The violet breath of love is purity. t mildewBu , rotwormd an , , wor beneathn ko , Until the heart is utterly decayed. On the shore opposite, a tower stands gravThere on es e i distinguishe ruinsn I , wit hmourning-roba d fro reste mth , mosf eo s t naturaonla y Bu yb l monument:— gree Hunshattered th yan n go d walls, which fling thousanA d deep-blu shado A waterse eth violetn wo t comei ; s havs o'ee growr n Over tha sod.—I do love violets: The waves, all bright with sunshine, like the gloom They tell the history of woman's love; Adversity throws on the heart's young gladness. They open with the earliest breath of spring; thLeaw e sa rive summeda sweeI a n ro t lif rperfumef eveeo : light,d dewan ,? settins wa n g su ove Ande f thei rTh , fieldy perishcorn,f so —, perish wit sigha h Deliciou t Junho ethas e sa th t n lifeO . 'Twas lik egoldea n sea;—an lefe th t n do They shed no perfome: the flowers-may remain, Were raeyatds* whence the grapes shone forth like But the rich breathing of their leaves is past:— gems* K2 3 18 RHINEE LEGENA TH F . DO RHINE.LEGENE A TH P .D O 3 18 Rubies lighted an , d amber thencd ;an e spread Were castles owle , th tenante ,y b w dno widA e heath covered with thic kspider'e furze,Th s , garrisonwhose e on : t therno s ei flowers, Without some strange old legend of the days So bright lik e pleasuree ,ar e th thif so s world, When death,—whelovd lifs ean e wa n lady's glove Leaiitifu distancee th n i l sunnr O , buty cur, oncl were gainede banner battlee th , f so . Little worth, piercing through the thorns which My history is of the tower which looks grow Upon the little island. Around them ever. 'Wilder and more steep The banks upon the river's other side; LORD HERBERT sat him in his hall: the hearth Tall pines rose up like warriors; the wild rose \yas blazing as it mocked the storm without Was there in all its luxury of bloom, With its red cheerfulness; the dark hounds lay sund windan e Sow;th w y de ,nb nursee th y db knighd ol doffe Around e ha tth dfiree d dth an ; steepe Anth n dso hunting-cloakwers Hi e crosse listened s lut e grean ,old d th e yan o dt , knes hi et Whica o r girM hwh l e tol sonfate th d somf df th ego o An e poor traveller. The dells were filled with dwarfed =oaks and firs; \yas seated. In the April hour .of life,. heightse Anth n do , which mastered all'the rest, SHINE E LEGENA TH F . DO 4 13 5 18 ^ RHINE E WBN1TH F . >O When showers are led by rainbows, and the Heart 4jJ%|i»Jp th eycaow-«, , I '' ' i; J "Lady! I pray thee not recall those words, , Like summer's darkest skyt n Her song had raised the spirit of her race wn : Hi ;f :.,.•-.- •.-•• tino eldquerir nhe jus'd tha Wfbrowe dSh . TJW^fethey were beloved , happinessOh . ! youne Oth f g Roland's deeds,--hbw^e haff stood n.^a^^aid all^that ca^ ^ ^id ^f bli§s, Against a liost and conquered; when tKere came -.fe^WjR ^th^My^?' ^e^omiS ^art has I'M A W£N» OF THE RHINE. A m^m Op ^R&m ^ twilighe SucTh h fres n stort Walk ow hwealtf eq s wil it , dn whehi pulslinkee nth e j d arm feeu sca l Aud it is love that works the mine, and Smugs The beating of the heart; upon the air Its treasure to the light. I did love ,once,— There is a music never heard but once,— Loved as youth—woman—genius loves; though A light the eyes Of that which has been! Love is like the glass, And time t b tims ThaA e twilric n throwhl ow evecolou s sit r passr ove, rwhe alln, Lov lens eha t Aud makes all beautifol. The morning looks His rainbow plumes to aid his flight—and spring Its very loveliest,, when the fresh air ! Had wedded with the summer, when a steed s tinge Ha cheeJe dth lov e cw e wit s glahit d red; Stoo t LORda D HERBERT'S gate,—and ISABELLE And the hot UQOB flits by most rapidly, Had wept farewell to ROLAND, and had given Whe r blu gons He ecoloursns scarwa hi ec'eares r e fo H f . t ey§s gazpage th « e n wito s hu Bearin poet'se gth , word love>~anf so d then To rais vassalss ehi LORr fo , D HERBERT'S towers tE(JBmA E RHIN£TH F O ) t 188 £39 A LEGEN RHINEDE 0VTH . Were menace dsword witha u nhsiegea h d an ; ISABIXLE stood upo r lonelnhe y tower; By ISABELLAS white hand that he would claim And, as the evening-star rose up, she saw armen A d beauts traiIt n ybearin conqueror'onla s father'r ya ghe s sbanne prizer. Autumn was on the woods, when the blue Rhine In triumph to the castle. Down she flew Grew red with blood:—LORD HERBERT'S banne__r U ha e th d reache d ha : y s the victor e th t gree o T flies, Before herself. maidee Whath w nsa t there?— And gallant is the bearing of his ranks. A bier'.—her father laid upon that bier! saio d wh t wher thae woulh Bu e h ts e i d ride ROLAN kneelins sideDe wa facs th hi ,y e gb righs Ahi t t han battle?—ROLANDo dt ! where— Bowed Qn Wg hand d hidgan .__but IsABELLE ! wherOh ROLANDs ei ? Kne dare wth k curling haistateld ran y form, Anbreasts hi dshrane n H threo . r kwhe away ISABELS has watched As she were ^^ of sickne^ or despair< Day after day, night after night, in vain, « ISABELLE! it was I who slew thy father!" Till she has wept in hopelessness, and thought She fen almost ft coppge upon ^ ^^ Upon old histories, and said with them It was too tnie, With a}} ft Iover,g ^^ « Ther faito n man' n hi s ei s fidelity!" ROLAN soughd D ha thickese th fighte th t tf o t 110 A LEOEND OF THE RHINE. A LEGEND OP THE RHINE. 141 He gained the field just as the crush began;— That ISABELLE had tied around his neck, gavd t her,—-anAn ei d prayed tha woule tsh Unwittin d wavcolourss skid hi ef ha ng o e h , s whitIt e fold fattiee s worshippehi s Th f fro o r lattice r cellmth he f deo ISABELLE! t eacA h pale evening-starrisine th f go , They met once more:—and ISABBLLE was changed That he might know she lived. They parted.-~-Never A slapsa mucf i f year eo s past d ha sha : Those lover t again t ROLANsme Bu ! D built toweA r besid Rhinee eth therd an dwelt,e eh , thine o s ey paleo s s , m wa ,di aiie r dSh he everd An y white eveninth ew scargsa f waved wepd Ha ,t awa luxurs yit bluef yo , She had cut off her sunny hair, and wore And heard the vesper-hymn of ISABBLLE A robe of black, with a white crucifix:— Float in deep sweetness o'er the silent river. scarfe th e , se t no d eveningdi e e h On d t an tol,I r destiny—hedhe r yout vowes hwa d To Heaven. And in the convent of the isle He watched and watched in vain; at length his hope entero t s ,wa ROLANe sh Tha y Dda t stood Grew desperate prayee h d s ISABELLdhi an , E Like marble, cold pale d motionlessd an , an , : Might have forgotten him:—but midnight came, •v The heavy sweat upon bis brow was all And with it came the convent's heavy bell, His sign of life. At length ho snatched the scarf Tolling for a departed soul; and then RHINEE LEOENA TH P .O 0 2 14 knee H w that ISABELLE was dead! Nexy da t They laid her in her grave;—and the moon rose THE Upo nmournea r wefeping there:—that A*tom* b*«*,!» GUERILLA CHIEF. s ROLAND'Wa S death-bed! war-store th t Bu m mountai e camth n eo n gale, And man's heart beat high, though his cheek was pale, For blood and dust lay on the white hair, And the maiden wept o'er her last despair; The hearth was cold, and the child was prest A corpsmurderee th o et d mother's breast; And fear and guilt, and sorrow and shame, Darkened whereve war-fif>ne rth d came. IT stood beneath a large old ehesnut-tree, Anstood dha d ther years:—thr efo e moonlight fell Ove white rth e walls, whic vine hund hth eha g With its thick leaves and purple fruit; a pair Of pigeons, lik snowe eth ,rooe werth fn eo Nestled together; and a plaining sound Came fro mfountaia n murmuring throug woode hth , THE GUERILLA CHIEF. lib5 Lcss like ttie voice of sorrow that1 of ~OVC. But with a qhick though noiseless step, as one Tall trees were gathered rouud :-the dnrk-grccn Whu'fars the very echo of that step bcecli ; May raise a spectre. When he reached the fount The sycamore, with scarlet. colours on, He sat down by ita side, and turned to gaze The licrald of the autumn ; dwarf rose-trees, Upon the cottage: from his brow the sweat Covered with their last wealth; the poplar tall, Poured down like summer rain; there came I,O A silver spire; olives with their pale leaves; sound And some most graceful shrubs, amid whose boughs From his white lips, but you might hear his licart Were golden oranges ; and hollow oaks, Beating i~ the deep silence. But at length Where the bees built their honey palaces. A voice came to his sorrow:-" Never-never It was a silent and a lovely place, " Shall I look 0x1 their face again! Farewell! Where Peace might rest her white wings. But onc '' I cdmot bear that word's reproach, nor look came " On pale lips breathing blessings which the tears " Belie in speaking! From out the cottage,--not as one who comes I have blighted all- " All-all their hopes, and my own happiness!" To gaze upon the beauty of the sky Aid fill his spirit with a caJul dclight; L 146 THE GVIWLLA CHffiF. THS c^^ CJnEp My « LBANBBO!" said a sweet and gentle voice; Andp iaced it ^ Us ^^ from ^ ^;__ An sofda t hand presse And« throbbinos dnthi8 hi , LEAM»g browK, O j^_tllis ghail ^y ^5th , And tears like twilight dew fell on his cheek, « Tny y With whom Ma first pure love had dwelt,~-the one snowere «Th s of ^ % ^ ^ ^ ^ ^^^ Who was the sun and starlight of his youth! « My prayers be with thee!"—'«Prayers!_oh! She stood beside him, lovely as a saint nothing more? Looking down pity upon penitence— » Have I then lost thy love—thy precious love? Perhap e OBl Th y« s g les^s brigh lea f mj coloufo n f ti hearfr ^^^j,a ancf eydn i e , Than the companion of his infancy:— She blushed a deep-red blush; her eloquent eyes thas wa t t cheealmoss Bu hi t k lest Me reproachfullys fai rr fac becaushe e d knean e ,e h w nexe th ts momenWa t hiddebosoma bi n no . losbeautd e Tha s sprintha th it t f i ty o g With passionat t ther happiness Bu ewa e sorrowins eve stoohim'e r thagn nfo i Sh d*t farewell, One moment gazing on his face, as there Affection and deep confidence, Her destin writtens ywa thed an n; took Tenderness^hope—for Love lights Hope--and tears, A Uttle crucifix of ebony Delicious tears! the heart's own dew. j-t THE GUERO-kA CHIEF. *49 OUEBJLE TH W CHIEF148 . Th parted. LEANDRO felt not these:—that crucifix . ,.^. .lib.lifo- Was all that wore the look of other days— LEAMHIO kept that little cross like Me. And whe Meiico,f no beneaty sk e h-th T——— d————paniona . P———, home. When earth and even heaven were strong, to bin,,- And, more than an, Bu*-. whose pure reign. treee flowerse Th th s , wer anothef eo r growth; Trouble wile th dy dpassionb youths hi f so . The birds wore other plume,; the very stars Had now regained its former influence,- Wer looke d t thosl seemeha eno Al e de h hea o upodt vowe rth boyhoodmadn e i s h her r ,efo . To share his hopes, feel far his deep remorse, ... . »,*«,»-M» see And bless him, and look forward. >Tis something, if in absence we can see footstepe past:-4Th e th f so t soothe heare sth t And at last breath o r scenteT ai e eotheth n d i r years By lips beloved; ———hr through the groves Once more the white sail »»re him o'er the sea, theres Wher SFwa w r sa ^- ee wa again onch t wer loner^whete d t ew Bu e no An . rose .th e Reminds us of the hair we used ———the Aud hi, road lay through ruined viUages. With its fresh buds-where every hffl »ed va.e, Though coM, the ashes still were red, for blood And wood and fountain, spea timf k<,««,eheo d e gonHa t Jamesdowe edsa th b,age n d ;dan me - And Hope springs up in joy from Memory'8 ashes. E GUBR1LL1 TH 15 A CHIEr0 15 . TOE OU1MM.A CHIEF. And would not leave the embers, for they said Perchance of him !~of Ms BIANCA'S blush! They were too old to seek another home. He neard the rausic of the fountain come— LEANBRO met with one whom he had known A swcet and weicome voice upon the wind- boundee H Iwit n lighde o othehth tvalley: n stepr days ow hopef askeso d s —hi ,au ,f do It yet was safe, unscathed by the war-storm. Of youth and happiness. He left the wood, He knelt down in deep thankftdness; and then, And looked upon—a heap of mingled blood Through death and danger, sought the grove once And blackened ashes wet upon the ground! more. He was awakened from his agony His way had been through a thick beeehen wood; By the 16w accents of a woman's voice;— moone Th , athwar lookede boughse H tth kned poured an ,w lais ,ha lightBIANCAr dwa d he e , Sh . Like Hope guido t ,onwards m ehi * Besid fountaine eth , whil r lonehe g black hair One more turn and he should gaze upon his home! Hung like a veil down to her feet: her eyes, He paused la his heart's overflowing bliss, So large, so dark, so wild, shone through the gloom, And thoughshoule h w dho t wake them from their Glaring likw insanityd sa ere e Sh . dreams—« Her lover, shrieked, and strove to fly— E GUERILLTH 3 15 !$SA CHIEF. THJB GUERILLA CHIEF, t feMjr^hernaileBu d jfect were gashed w»th,w0unds. Hch# they were wakened from their midnight sleep " AndJ^vel^ktty^ bat tojee iliee, 4i$?"i By gleaming steel^—curses—and flaming roof! liEfjccHw cried, as he laid the pale face , Wf h / And then she groaned, and prayed herself to die! Upon his breast, and sobbed like a young child. ' s: x , 5 ; vain I n he,dashed th^.cold t wSs'aiI rfltreaai eVenirih^n o |r face^g whe— a throug gr^ee hth n leaves Still she lay like a eorpse intlun his arms. Of the oid^lh6snut shot the golden light Atlengthhetho^tMmolagianttree^/ of the rich Sunset* into the fresKi air Whoee hoUow'trunk, when chpdtren t ,of ^hed yha tiijAl^o bor maidee nursd eth ha te nh Called hom playfulnessn ei bore^ee B . r ther e, j M'Wfe ydun^ niother mirsesf hek- sick child. An fresf leavedy o dr h Bjade e sflowerh th ed an s ShW'llidte lieid tipott bis; heart slepd an , t A bed for his pale love. She waked at last* ,.,, i Her firM sweef ^uiet sleep'S the evening-star consciousnesso t t co t Bu wandejrpr he : g eyes GleafflMWro^hthdpurple twilight whe wakede nsh . Fixed upon him, and yet she knew him not 1-— Her me!mory'arc»us^d not U the fott— tha, Oh t wa^smyrcyl-^bu anp her,brainn ^B knee i r lover sh t whe he n ;Feveo ,s rwa And as JLEANi*BQ watched, bis keart grew siclc , And over hw pale fece a calni sriiile shone,— heao ravr T youtragehe f eo , wrongs death;d ^aa — Foildiy though faintly Breathe blesd nameds an thi ! 154 THIT ftUEIUlA* CHIEF. That nigh moonlighe th t t sl»one upon LEANDBO, And in his arms—a corpse\ * * * * THE BAYADERE. AN INDIAN TALE. deee livee on pH n dfeeling—ii n revenge: , • i j t t.nf in minglins Hi UTAge therm U, dea,«iyt s n ene wa w , ..- dlt r1 WVirni tli<» P A TIT a^er reca"e^Jt *° mT memor subjeca s ya t exquisitely poetical havI . e tn o bee r neve s lia m poe g toTlli e g Mnc t g wathe e j o n m fOo g apoe bee . my knowledge translated; and, being ignorant of the German language, s driveWa unanwhethem y a I blfrosa tal o e e t lailmerth th conform originade d t^hicSpOlledth not.o r ha st lo e ]hli > That dark chief sought BIA^CA'S gravel—A cross , , THERE were seventy pillars around the hall, Mark GUERILLE sTH A AN MAIDEE DTH Ns TOMB ! Of wreathed gold was each capital, An fretteroos e dth wa f d with ambe gemsd ran , Such as light kingly diadems; flooe marbles Th wa r , snoe whitth ws ea Er pureness eit staines si s falit l y dbelowb : midse Inth t playe dfountaina , whose starry showers Fell like beamradiane th n so t flowers, 156 THE BAYADERE. THE BAYADERE. 1$7 Whose colours were gleaming, as every one There floated the breath of the harp and flute,—< Burnt with the kisses just caught from the sun; But the sweetest of every music is mute; And vases sent forth their silvery clouds, Ther flowere ear lightf o sspiced an , d perfume,— Like those whic youne th face hf th g eo t thermooBu en wantshrouds sweetese sth ,bloomf hreatf o o t d han : But sweet as the breath of the twilight hour And the hall is lone, and the hall is drear, smiline th r womaf gFo o n awakenshinetw Whe de t here e rose'e hno n sth th . s power. At the end of the hall was a sunbright throne, With urns of odour o'er him weeping, Rich with every glorious stone; Upon the couch a youth is sleeping: And the purple canopy overhead His radiant hair is bound with stars, liks shade eth Wa e o'e dayfale rth l shed; Suc bro e shins h th a night f wn o eo , An couce dth h beneat budf o s s halhwa f blown, Fillin dome gth e with diamond rays, Hued with the blooms of the rainbow's zone; Only thall Ws own curlg legg bright And round, like festoons d gucAn hbroa , "e d agucwey an vin n ha e was rolled, Whose leaf was of emerald, whose fruit was of gold, ^^y. g fig t aA ymm But, though graced as for a festival, A brow like twilight's darkening line, There was something sad in that stately hall; An eye ]ikc moj.^^',, grst sunshine, 9 15 BAYADEREE TH . J£g THE BAYADEBE. . , He of the many-arrowed bow, Now glancing through the veil of dreams «,«.«. Of the joys that come and go As sudden light at daybreak streams. Like the leaves, and of the sighs And richer tha minglee nth d shade . Lik winde e th summef so r skies, goldgemd y purpld B an ,an , e made, Blushes like the birds of spring, oriens Hi t wings closed o'e heads rhi ; Like that bird's, bright with every dye, Soon seen and soon vanishing; fearsf o hopese f ,h o d e H an , , , Whose home, as Persian bards have said, He or smiles, and he of tears-— , , , Is fixed in scented Araby. ti Young CAMDEO, he has brought Some dream is passing o'er him now- «,,„.,., A sweet dream or coloured thought, suddeA brows nhi n fluso ; s hi , . One of womalovd ean powerns , And from his lip come murmured words, lighe t sweeLowth MANDALLA' bu o ts , a tlutT e chordSs sleeping hour. , , When o'er its strings the night-winds glide Joylesjewelles hi dard s san k wa d throne To woo the roses by its side. When MANDAILA awakene found alonedan m dhi . faie th r , boy-godHe , whose nest He dran perfume kth e that aroun sweptm dhi , Is in the water-Hly's breast; 1 was not sweet as the sigh he drank as he slept; E BAYADERETH . ljg| E BAYADERETH . J^O There was music, but wfcere was the voice at^««* tittiH He siaod ift toe midst of a stately square, Every pO« evein s throbbin is ahi swa g -^ wa*eAe sth » se e oafth rolle thousande dth s there; And dim was $e Uoi»e of, his nattf* star ^ <• ^ Their gathering was round the^ gorgeous car While the light of woman and lo?e w»« «f^5 * W&e*'6 s^* fa M» tritunph the Sabadar, And lips of the wwM, ^^ ?iotet e^s s % ^ For Ms sabm ^ red with the Wood of the slain, Are the sunniest flowers in Paradise «. -; -i And his proudest foes were stores in his chain; He veiled the light of his gloriows w*®t " And the sound of *be trumpet, the sound of his name, In a mortal's form and a mortal's fa And 'mid earth's loveliest sought,for u' OB, « ^ With gem gold sdan oa each ataghan, Who migbt dwell in Ms ha!J ^d share, injMp-tone. A tte^sa^dHwrfers led the vto, , , t ,' ,,t. 1^« ^* Mounte steedn do s nighte blacth s k,a Tlje loorie brought to his awaWB iWCft ^ - ' Bat with M* an« swith sMrrup gleaming in light; anothed fro e An midse s hp$be mth rit e f tfcoas^fto t !Th <&&><•»*d eain frttein ei r rear, And open tbe Ita^es of the lotas^My - * «M On white horses, Crated with bow and spfear, To welcome *h© »oon of the sumwef day.» p With quivers 4f goTd on e»eh shoulderfeid, glorys wa ,t jwfcI d light d wit* An ^hd oimibn'^ be«tf ftP»t« fo .1" r »' each crooked Hade. Whe , nt MANDALLA close wins dhi Bengal n gi t M. S H*S*»!I«m m « Iffi BAYADBRTO & 160 Then followed^footrenta^^tei braidr f O tarbto^showes «mro**rtd summep-fl^wers , Like flashes of light from <* m^tato dotti, Glided fair daneing-ftrls; Fo rosre whitth e s leara e d wer nturbae An efelth eartho t l n abate, r mow, « And death-black the foreheads that darkened below; Their light feet touched tiie ground,— Scarlet and white was each soldier'* Test, But for the zone of silrer bells And each bore a Urn of gold on bis breast, - You had not heard a sound, scatterin, As Fochosee grth flowerthis ns wa band s o'e, thatraye rth t, bw The lion standard,-!* ftoa^d *f* WhWed rOttnd the fcewtifld array. Their rank o 'miswh d like the t theron e ms »or»ingBu e8henwa e l **> ^e^ ' waw Of that purple banner planeA trwpete ,tth tor^l aloned syan gav , e / ., rose floweA e on , r ami dmartia A manyl, salut tho et e tadian W t& That bore tbe lion-king wrought in gi>W« But still the loveliest of any: And last tbe elephant came, whose tower Though feir her arm as the moonlight, Held the lord of this pomp aM power; Others might raise au arm as white; And round that ehfcrwt of his pride, Though light her feet as music's fall, Like chains of white •**»*, - Others might be as musical; M2 4 16 THEBAYADEBE, 5 TH16 E BAYADERE. But where wer Edee e y(mnsucf Th no hg da ^^* eye s^ as hers first? So tender, yet witha brighto s l , Lov iten i g ionelines gh nurst > litt]a y b e fonntm hi t ;sa e H dare Asth k orbs ha theidn i r smile Mingled the light of day and night, A tulip.tree grew by its ^ And where was that willflA yd wit grach Ueg whic ^^h she ^d^ A loveliness o'er every tread, Floated in silence on the tide; A beauty shining through the whole, And far round R banana ^ Something which spoke of heart and soul. Extended its green sanctuary; The Almas had passed lightly on, Anlon e dg (h grag^ ^^ ^ ^ ^ The armed ranks, the crowd, were gone, With eyery ^.^ ^^ ^ ^^ Yet gazed MANDALLA pn $he square Yielding & more ^^^ ^^ As she he sough£ still glided there,- At ^ ^^ ^ ^^ ^ Oh that fond look, whose eyeballs' strain, ^ ^^ ^ ^ ^ e ther d An And wffl not know its loo va|ns ki ! ^ somewhafc Qf .^ ^^^ At length he turned,-~his silept moo 4, And ^^ shadows ^ ^ ^ ^^ Sought that impassioned solituc„ , K Andraise d ^ moo ^^r nhe ^ ^ 166 TttE BAYAD1RB. ™B *A™>ERE' 167 And came a freshness on the trees, Paced round and san& to ** wbo slept Harbinger of the evening breeze, r **»tM Calm e * 'wM W* »'** ^ ™&, When a sweet far sound of song, And she'that lweliest one>is he«» ie Born« e buy ttht.e tbreat. ^h oef &flower «r^as *IA«along* , ^ morning'B s radiant Bayaderej «+ ***; A mingling of the voice and lute, A darker M«ht ta hef dark Wr- Such as the wind-harp, when it makes For tears «> there'-a Pato ^row smile s thm ebumorain d e tt 0char Its pleasan tgal e musieth o ct ' ^ « Chan Which kisses chordfirse th t breakst si . ^ss *P*&** ** »oro touching now. firsd r sweeAn he t t Ji? HPeres e fluteMowetth - d wher eche oeth led, _,._ . , ,. , . A nightingale waked by the rose, ' J p Tilcypress-grova n li foune eh d , „„ „. . , , . . ,, And when that honey breath was mute, ' A funeral tram, that roun gravda e , • , * .»* Wa ssong'w hearlo r sd he plaintiv e close, v ¥ ustr Poured forth their sorrows' wailing sound; 5 ***' ** . , . , , , Wailing for the young blossom's fall, f And bA y the tomb a choir of girls, B J s ^ last mose e ,th Th t beloved of all. , , » , . . _ With measured step mournfud san l notes, And snow-whit s **A * *e *™^robes, whil tear laye e ,th air,Oe Bth , Unbound their wreaths, each dark curl flouts, The ^ «' »««««• J^^ ^ay: j$8 THE BAVADKRJS. T*HB AAyADJSR^. 16& They left their wreaths upon the tomb. And darker aS'the nighi-gliatfes SKW, As fading leaves and long perfume > < Sadder became its wailing coo, t missei f i s dA 'the hand werr thaOhe f et boreemblems, unbound an ; d Many a cage's gilded round, As the cool twilight came, its store And set the prisoners free, as none Of seeds and flowers.*—-There was one Were left to love now she was gone. Who, like that dove, was lingering lone,_ And azure wings spread on the air, * The Bayadere: her part had been And songs, rejoicing songs, were heard j Qjily lb,e hired mourner's part; gived ha ue whash t t Bu none mighBut,t buy,pinin_g as forgotten now, Lingered one solitary birdi * The precious sorrow of the heart. wooee WhitSh e dth er breas Adovhe beautifuo et t pearl-whitd an l e dove. , Alone in its remembering love. It sought at once its place of rest: It was a strange and lowly thing Round it she threw her raven hair,_ t seemeI ioVo dt gentle eth e snare ,maro T droopine kth s wing it < f go , s sofit td bea s raiseAn p ksi wa o dt intw oho the,gravd An t \ epreeti < ' Til honey-dae l, soileTh Hp dare d th kre w eartb.*stfti* ohe f s breastnit ; .170 IB********* 1 WBMWWM17 . Her dark eyes illed with team, to ** . „ Yes, ffeed ffom ^ ^ rf ^ ^^ ^ _ ; „ «_Th«e . , . .gentl , „.e „creatur, e close> r steal cm lWo a * **er smile snai starrly hghm yp u thall! H Int r hearohe t with soft caress, As it would thank her tenderness; The moonlight fe on a ^ ^^ To her 'twas staling* and sweet to be ^d Witlm 1 ^lm} flow& f fo Iead ^fan Beloved in such fond purity, ^ y fcol d &ft a gree t ot tha f Buil And s%hed MANILA to thiafc that gin WMe^ ^h ^^ ^ ^ g e hoheed wred Could dwel fai shrinw la r e within. Lik ebridaa l eandpy overfiead « Oh jasmiliee ,rief Th f tog theithinrk 8leat that esh WeatMnge la one g ^^ « Who like the breeze is wooed «nd won! One with stars as ivory white, « Yet sure it were a task for love The other w|fll clm^a rf amber %h| ? nighe como "th T f teo frolikw mede above Rose-tree^ fou rwalle greth y ,wb " Upon her heart, and wash away, Beautifal ^ ^ m&f^ ^. « Like dust from th e ^e^ On flowers tha stais t purit ,n oef ^ clay crimso, n flugh Ai>" d win her bac hea ki r tear heaveno st , . . , m».-, . „„, , . , t f ihat mark maiden'e sth s first love-blush; " Pure, loved, and humble, and forgiven: 172 TB& BAYA»EKE. TH,6 BAYADERE, J0g e tuliOn s Pfouwa «^ «* ever Bsids yit ye wreathgrew acothe, " r one, ftmerae snoe th Palth f w o s l e a stone ! ; Tha e iP¥ton * scorche stumper'e th y db s breath, e nexrics Th hwa t wit* damase hth e kdy Who§e flwaionnte leaves with their ruby glow t es tha t the ehear O monarch'a f s purple drapery; & burning aaHid d black below. An leaVelasd e dth ha t s like those leave golf so d A?d th?re* beneat floweree hth d shade Worked on that drapery's royal fold! ''' B? * Pink aeacia made, And there were four tases, with' WoMlfls flftl'd, Mw*W* lay, and by his ^ide, d Like tensers of incense, their fragrance distilled; V^CT^» a breath d ,blush that vied ao Lilies, heaped like the pearls of the sea, '3' With &P stftr ^ with the flower their n Peeped from their large leaves' security; ^n anI d loveliest hour, e th t dere ttft Ba S Wa Hyacinths with their graceful bells, ' f *W' » ^^ Where the spirit of odour dweUs ' ' Yet nestling in her long black ***'• tha n e tha e mor Like the spirit of music in ocean shells;' "" ^ to ^loveSh ^, ! ? n " * » t ii, * i »! ' > i . An-x »i i d tulips , with ever r -^therhe y d ev colouthb t e sa lover e thadon t shines * » "* " * | ^ - e n re t T , ,, ,. , -« ,.«, ' , . ' ' And1 bUy the sweet acacia porch radiane Inth t gem Sereudif so bminess ; ,. ^ t FY > They dran softnese breeze.ke th th f o s — 174 THE BAYAtoEfcB. TH* ^AYASERE, 175 Oh more than lovely** r ^O he** swee tow'ts voioe dreams, swee, t lik bird'ea s 'Mid lights «md bloom aird ssan like these! &W* P"* *»* firse &it t son springgn i , 1 0 8 And sometimes she wonM leave his side, 161 The one me » «*• *° «* <*M, e aAnSb 08* dsof6r **lik sighe te *esprif lute-stringa hth o t round, Mm glide: A light d Shaw ™wreatheAn w &lno G J*dS roun*b» browr t dhe darkene , gentlesn di t tears, Now waving frohanr mhe d of snow, Lik e edewth ydarklee lighth n ti d dove, Now zoned aroafld tier graceful waist, Would she sin€those sorrowing songs that breathe And now like fetters round her placed? Some ^tarj of unhappy love. And then, fiwHg^suddenly aride, " Yes'thou "t mine!" MANDMLA said,— Her Many crab, mstead, unlw«ind, "l haTe %hted UP 1°^ ^ % youthful heart? Waved in fantastic braids, tifl loosed, " « ^e tenderness, now I ranat teach 1 tau ht its Her long dark tresses swe^t the ground; "ItsM ^its fri«^ »^d its gloomier part; Then, changin ^" g th< rrot %sofe n ti fromt slo^w th stepy earth^stain, s purified, Her wWe feet bounded on the wind "In my s^f »nd n»J ^1 shalt thou reign mj bride." lake gleamin ghair silverhe r d ,an Lik edara k banner swept behintl; II was ^n?™**8 feird sof,a« t As surely thos Eden ei n are, 176 THE BAYADERE. THE BAYADERE. When, bcariug spoils of leaf and Bower. Is a funeral pile,-around it stand Entered the Bayadere her bower; Priests and the hired mourners’ band. Her love lay sleeping, as she thought, But who is she that so wildly prays And playfully a bunch she caught To sbare the couch and light the blaze? Of azure hyacinth bells, and o’er MANDALLA’Slove, while scornfid eye His face she let the hloasoms fall; And chilling jeers mock her agony: 6‘ Why I am jealous of thy dreams, An Alma girl! oh shame, deep shame, Awaken at thy Aza’s rali.” To Brahma’s race dud Brithtlla’s name! No answer came from him whose tone Unmarked, unpitied, she turned aside, Had been the echo of her own. For sf moment her bursting tears to hide. She spoke again,-no words came forth ; None thought of the Bayadere, till the fire Sbc clasped his hand,-she raised his head.- Blazed reay and fiercely the funeral pyre; One wild, loud scream, she sank beside, Then Gke a thought she darted by, As pale, as cold, almost RS dead! And sprang on the burning pile to die! By the Ganges raised, for the morningaun ‘‘ Now thou mt mine! away, away To shed his earliest beams 11po11, “To my own bright star, to my home of day!’’ N £7$ SHE BAYADERI. A dear voice sighed her e alopr h ehe ,m g Gently as spring breezes beer the song, faity theeth r h lovy d fo hav.n ean Th e" wo «ThelweBt%^faimQrfelitt«' 3 l ' " ST- GEORGE'S HOSPITAL, Mai« e^rthf do , MANHAM. As frei calo et l ' ' ' HYDE-PARK CORNER. " AZA the *' *1« *°vwf*t te^w 8 d n thla r familia Thinka of this miser. y!- I LEFT thfrcrowded street and the fresh day, * «« dark ^elMag, where Death-*» enteid An d A daily visitant,—wher v ' ' v e~ sickness shed Its weary laagttor o'er each fevered couch. ^ > •,. ^ '- ' ' f There was a sic% %ht, whose gKmmer showed Man yshapa miseryf eo : there lay >.,<*<"' e victimTh f *disease so » '• , writhin!- ' g with pain; N 2 . OIOBGB'ST S HOSPITAL 0 18 . gT_ CE(mGE'1 s18 HOSPITAL. fainAnw dlo t groans breathingd ,an s short and deep, Gentle remembrance cherished san d hopes'. Each gas heartfelpa t agony, wer l eal jjis rac s rUDewa j |,ut jts g s oafajwa & grave.— That broke the stillness.—There wasj one, pale^, whos, e waste( another n upo d looke r brow With eyes all heavy in the sleep of death; Dark with hot climates, and gashed o'er with scars, ^ ^ ^ ^ ^^ ^ ^^ ^ Told of the toiling march, the battle-rush, ^ & ^ ^ ^^ ^ ^ ^ Wher, sabres flashed, the red shots flew, and not ^^ ^ ^ ^ ^^ ^^^ ^ ^^ One ball or blow but did Destruction's work: ^^ ^ ^ ^^ ^ ^ ^ ^ But then his heart was high, and his pulse beat 1-1*1.1 A broken heart.—And there was one whose cheek And feelings which, like waters uneonfiaed, Was flushed with fever—'twa carried Ha dfacsa wite thah thet seemem freshnesd greed san n beauty, Familiar to my memory^—'twas one Thrown back upon themselves, spread desolation Whom I had loved in youth. In days long past, On their own banks. He was'a sacrifice, How many glorious structures we had raised And sank beneath neglect; his glowing thoughts Upon Hope's sandy basis! Genius gave Were fires that preyed upon himself. Perhaps, lefs ha t some h r e Fo higs goldeit h m memorialsnhi treasureso T could'pou,e Famh : e r His own impassioned soul upon the lyre; Will pour its sunlight o'er the picture, when , wit Or hpainter'a artist'e s skillTh s, hancreat moulderins di e suc duste hth shape,n gi s Of loveliness flind gAn th,e the laurey werl o'ee morrharpa e, likhuewhose eth s e chords Of the rich evening shadows, that* the woric Are dumb for ever. But his eyes he raised Of human touch. But he was wayward, wild; Mutely to mine—he knew my voice again, And hopes that in his heart's warm summer clime And every vision of his boyhood rushed Flourished, were quickly withere cole th d n di Ove deadls r Wwa »yp soulli pale s hi ;, upot haughts ye nit pridt s eBu wa y curve. . An; d dull realitie Wae h s . s o . f life . ; Too proud, too visionary for this world; He raised one hand contemptuously, and seemed " ' * . GEORGE'ST S HOSPITAL 4 18 . r mare A woule falles m sh khi d ndbi state, f i An unheededds thadiee wa h t di to S . Without one struggle, and his brow in death 'rt"[ " ' , , *, Wor pals eit e marble loo colf ko d defiance « .i - THJ5 JPBSE&TEB, blighe Alasth r t,fo promis r youtou f heo J ,, How soon the golden chorda of hope ore broken, How soon we find that dreamt we trusted most vere yAr shadow*! , 4,*f , j, TWAS a sweet summer morn,—the lark had just *~ i , , i,l Sprang fro clovee mth r bower aroun nestr dhe , , „ M ,, And poured her blithe song to the clouds; the sun ,s Shed his first crimson o'er the dark grey walls } t. churchd ol stainee d th ,an f sparkline O dth g (pane,UiJ s (,t, ' , |t , rl, -v ml,,, , , Of ivy-covered windows. The damp grass, „ , < . i Thai waved in wild luxuriance round the graves, s j , > >"-' i * , n. Was white with dew^ feut early" step*s had been t k ! i t! And left a fresh green trace round yonder tomb: 186 THE USSEHTER. VBK BB8SRTER. 187 'Twas a plain stone, but graven with a name Her arm was leant upon a graceful youth, That many stopped to read—a soldier's name— The hope, the comfort of her widowhood? departins wa e H g from her, anfl sbd ele d ha o Anwero wh dtw e e kneelinon , it y gb Been weeping; she was widow to the brave The youthful soldier to his father's tomb_ visible Upoth n i ne s whospresencA deae tearr eth he dquief eso d werbe t e falling. From off hec.cbeek the tose of youth had fled, She gave her farewell blessing; and her voice But beauty stiU was there, tlwrt softened grief, Lost its so tremulous accents as she bade Whos chilr e He bitternessed trea than di t father's gone t whic sfels ba , stepst h wa tol d dan , Too deeply lor forgetfelness; her look, How brave, how honoured? he had been. But when Fraught with .high feelings and intelligence. She did entreat him to remember all ! And such as might beseem the.Boman dame Her hopes were centred to him, 'that he was Whose children died rfor liberty, was made The stay of her declining years) that he More l^ucfaiitsofd patene an t th y gb t smile happinesMighagee d th ol , r e b t he f so Which piety had given the unearthly brow, Or bring her down with sorrow to the grave, Which Guido draw r words wheHe swoule nh gre dw forinarticulate msaina t sobd an ,s Whose hopes am fixed on Heaven, but who has yet Alone found utterance? and he whose cheek Some earthly feelings binding them to life. Was flushed with eagerness, whoso ardent eye i§8 TUB OESBRTBH. T^B DESERTER. Jj$9 ¥ * Gave animated promise of the feme ^u,, , Who came to sey good-by, and ikindly wish youne th o g T soldieThar t , whos healtwoul happinessMs r alreadd e hea dan b y fan. g With the loud trumpet's wftr-aong,' felt ihese dreams Um<» sweet, albeit most painful, feeling f, 4 Fade for a Moment, and almost renounced' 1 To know w&iure regretted, " Fa^ewe.11" said e field Th e jwinted'forh s , since they fflU8t 6ost ! * > And Qf$ fepeated,, .one- last .wild, embrace Such tears as thesee churchyarTh . d left, they {^Yenjit/i hj§ pate mother stooo wh ,d therej passed ' <, 1 s.« ! !* * i t Her cold hands prest upon a brow as cold, ! E ! Dow hawthora y nb n hedge, where th^ «w4et May Intfllf^ffbujf?%g .heart's ^11 agoijy— d showereHa s whitedit ' luxUriaiS&r; iteterciiJced1 4s Onf-lf^i Iftfft HSS,—b^,,spra;ig upo«, his^ horse» , With Wimson bluster wiMtee th f so f roke '• >' " k ^d urgp^^itm9,s^ t speed with spuresin.d an r , W He 3 And linked with hdneyeuckle. O'er thd^th ^ if Ij.;. • T. - v v M ?f i ^^*- ; i • ,f ,• Man stateld ancienn yan a m k yel oa t „,*•<{, Spread Hs greea Canopy'. Soir B»wi^ iyil Tl1? W»l|ejijfug|j| rolling, and the IQW Lingered* on eacn' famMf si^ua^if Alasl &mhV "Ttey^ac^Mihfe'cM^c-gate: W|th^w7(fnd ip^asured traif; hu^eyer^ brow Is d n th m n d His hor^^rf'^yr^yTWWe^ilHft^ Vfe ^,F , f ft >^ ^fn e/es, f 190 THE DESERTER. TOE DlSBRTtB. 191 That looked unshrinking on the face of 4eath, Glanced proudly round. But when they bared his mois w battleWhen i no t t e witnme ar , h tears. breast death-shote th r Fo tood an k,portraia silene t theaceTh t midsrine th ,formeds g i » ti d an , Stands the deserter! Cm this be the same, He clenehed his hands, and^asped.and one deep sob e young agonf Th O gallane yih , burst EDWABJ>t frud these hi ar m e ed li him an !d ;an The laurels promised in Ms earty dreams* His face awile—his mother's look was there. Those fettered hands, 44e» doom of dpeBM&ame*! He could not steel his soul when he recalled Alas! far foangaad passionate spirits! S6on The bitterness of her despair. It passed— Fmlse lights will damle. He had madly joined That moment of wild anguish; he knelt down; rebee Th l bamier 'twah O ls prid lino et k That sunbeam she glors dit y over one, His fate with Emn*%patriot few, to fight Young, proud, and brave, nerved in deep energy; nexe Th t fell over colbloodd dan y clay w .no s wa e r liberth gravee t Fo th r Bu yo ! A prisoner; yet there he stood, as firm AM thoug fees hM t were not upo tombe nth ; Ther deep-voicea s ei d sound from yonder vale His eheek was pale as marfele, and as cold? Which ill accords with the sweet music made But his lif> trembled not, and bis dark *yes By the light Mrds nestling by those green elms; 192 THE DSSRRTER. - ~, ,,..,,,., .,„, . .,. , , ' " '•' P^'**•*••**( -*^"- >;l]i And a ,strang e contras e blossometh o t d thorae, ..*fnc«f:> LH#W^ Dark plume e wavings ar a silen d an t, hearse -tiiasi* .•:> r-ir •,.:-.--,•.-.--.-,.., -,.,fftrf.. .f... r^ Is winding throfgh th»t^4a»e* /They toM it bore -i«j ,fi t,fo| CWCQlI^ES-l^Oit^^-'" v1'^-' =« A widow, who died of a broken heart: ;,«««? ^^.4<,t« & •{,-, iv,«, r,,f,,, ,,,,,4 ,•,., / shot^^^onirrvT;;;:^Her^a^^^s^t^w^^^ ^ "^^^tiiW^^ii^^i^^feik "* ' ^ ! ' f '^-: ;'5 ^ * ^ ' ^ *-"«• m «"V*«» «* serious^nterestln^ilf^I i : ;: ! s " :" .•'-'• *' «^'« « J 3 a fcwi, crashed whardened by its intercoursto lto e with the world, turns with :: :; : :; " r.-r;! v" " :" h^fril^fh l o r!t tl em ^^^ «owi pitythose ^.S. J ;;;;,'; !: ::": : ": ::: :":t j!f "f^ ^n » * «»'«<>f^8weeteSt.Pringsoffeeiingha9 "' --•- '-;' -' , , S; - , :•..-„... been utterly deaied, the most green and beautiful part of life laid waste ! 3! But th se whow fris ' " ' -"' ' ' -'" **' ; *° ° * * tas been what spring should «v?r be fresh' * ; '; ' \ '-'»"-" ^f^^^^so^whosecaphasnotlwnpoisonedattheflrstdrauirht' :''.*•'-•' «'= ' ^*-«-' - hw delicious is recoHectionf they truly know the pleasures of memory."' "':: -'*' ••••>*-J»-''F. THERE,is not ' ^'^'r!^1 '-^'f »^ffi '*'^ ?'^:? .' A valley of more quiet, happiness, - 1<: * i'*A'" *•* *•"*&• isassft? i« Ji«ft«!.».----'- Bosomed in greener trees, or with a river • - "^; •^^^'•Jii' -'''^' >:wiJ? a:x-!* >-^v. • - Clearer.than thine, OI.ADBSMUIR! .There are^.huge »w mu o 194 GLADESMUIR. 6I,ADBSMUIR. JQ£ Like barriers by thy side maked , wherAn g ^e th^e fflusi tall cpin ^e ^ mQm.^^ ^^ Stands stately as a warrior in his prime, All day the stock-dove's melancholy notes Mixed with low gnarled oaks, whose yellow leaves Wail plaintively—the only sounds beside Are bound with ruby tendrils, emerald shoots. The hum of the wild bees around some tr«Hk moss-mind ol «,u-»s « i a a t f wile • .O d oa th dd blossomAn honeysucklee th f so ; 0 uiau oas whicm , reares hi d And even more impervious grows the brier, Their liouey palace. Where the fo Covered with thorn rosesd san , mingled like Stretche swida e browi h n h heatt H ti h Pleasures and pains, but shedding richly forth Becomes its boundary; there the onl owth Its fragrance oa the air; and by its side Are straggling thickets of the white-flowered thorn wildine Th g broo msweets yelloa d An ,w whic foraeh gracefull: t^s-fieldbeyoae th e dyar s Flings its long tresses like a maiden's hair And of yet fresfee* verdure the young wheat-— Wavin yellon gi wdeed beautyre r e Th . These border *oun villagee dth , *Fhe Bright river Crouches in safety in its secret lair; Bounds like an- arrow by, buoyant as youth sapphiree Th , bifd's-eye blud ean , violets, Rejoici itn ^i s . strengthlefe tth siden O ., Mix with white daisie grase th sn si beneath; Half hidde iby nb s aged trees that time And in the boughs above the woodlark builds, Has spared- a^honouring their sanctity o2 196 GtADESMUm. G1A0ESMUIR. 197 gred ol ydarkene s I e churcTh seens hi d s witmossit : h ylon wallg sufferings si e h t ye ; And ivy-covered windows tell how long Oh more than happy!-.he has reached his home, It has been sacred. There is a lone path , And RONALD is ft wanderer no more. Winding oftebesidw thahilln n i Ho neighborin o etyo n : fair romantig heighc lant d Command wido s eviewa anciene th ; t spire, beeWherd ha soldierna turned e eh ha e dh , The cottages, their gardens, and the heath, From the rich groves of SPAIN, to- think upon Spread for beyond, are in the prospect»sem The oak and pine; turned from the spicy air, By glimpses as the»greenwood screen fives way. To sicken for his own fresh mountain-breeze; One is now tracing it, who gazes round And loved the night, for then femiliar things, As each look were his last. The anxious gasp The moon and stars, were visible, and looked Tha evers ta drinkr yai breate sth h the s brought,healthalwayd A yba s done shed an ,d ;swee t tears The hurriethino T k dtha stepmighe t lingerinh thee ye , se tm shint times,'ga e agai, n As fearfu t feli l t dreamal a werl t ebu — Gt-ADBSMrann Oveow s hi r i That silver moon, How much they tell of deep and inward feeling! In all her perfect beauty, is now rising; That stranger is worn down with toil and pain, The purple billows of the west have yet His sinewy frame is wasted, and his brow A shadowy glory; all beside is calm, * 1@§ e*,AJM5SMUlB. OJtAD«WUIB. 190 And tender and serene—a quiet light, The wind rose up, and o'er the calm blue sky Which salted wel melaneholyjoe lth y Ttte tempest gathered heave th yd raian , n RONALD'f O S heart t everA , y ste lighe pth t casemente Beath n to thet bu ;y pressed them round Played o'er some old remembrance; now the ray The blazing hearth, and sat while RONALD spoke Dimpled the crystal river; new the church Of the fierce battlej and all answered him Had all its windows glittering from beneath With wonder, and with telling how they wept curtainine Th g ivy. Nea mord ran e nea drewe rh — Durin absences ghi , how they numbered o'er hears Hi t bea returns e ,hi daTh t Jquickr ^fo . Thric ,nex e foth rt este hallowep wil e b l d shrine Upon his felber's threshold! Btft he paused— Of tbe,heart'» intercourse^ our own fireside! He heard a Sweet and sacred se»nd^«iey joined I do remember in iny early youth In the aeeustotoei psain}, *ftd then they said * parted from its circle; how I pined The words of <*o»» and, last of all; tf ptajrer With happy recollectio«s--they to me solemm aiord Mo nan e touting, fife ©Bald hear Were sicknes deed san p sorrow I though w ho ; t Low sobs fts it iras ftttered. They did pray Of the strange tale, the laugh, the gentle smile His safety, Ms return, Ms happiness; < Breathing of love, that wiled the night away. And ere they ended he was in their arms! The hour of absence past, I was again $0 4WKHOB. ! 20 outentoau With those^a,loved me Wha, . t **0w*j * ;4» A«*m Mus tearfud han l lids belied In each ^^toWed.,^! whM injis^hjutg^f j* Her BgttWi* bS she bad Mm*m fag* On ea^famt sooeo S y^cenfdnMe hU'ftNtoW ! M' i• - r Meiids- . »Btttme^eit 'morn QKr ^^ng.r.inftof togfe** » If,^ „, v , , / Were other ttfeH tha^th^e s^eefr ones* that co^e TU« W|ss s lifeha , IJoiw4» MhtUW* ti f dO felMUH *'*&nto&.^ frfee ,.iH s. given , ' * ' ' n< '"^ The loved, the wanderer, to their prayers at last; Bat ther onO eT Bw^ rfiW^er^ «pt» Bu ^e th s ^8o>cha ^d; there ^ ^o ^n Yet 'tw¥ a create b^tifol, ^ Hapf,, «» . Left of his forto ^. ^ glow of ^^ With eye harebelse blu th ^S w ea wj l«n r Of yoMh, Wa shi n Wi *one d salloan , w dheek Sparkles upo as 2lffnit e lea.ves^a pheek ,n, ,, Md faded ^ decfty ^ visiWe._ Fres WQUptam-r^ea s ha fell tAl ,thafhe >u ts Mnkidd^^-ri graveU e ' th %o t . * -- rainbos A w CQjours muuttNfe'&frte H , a^ s ebaflg^ilj^,,da f >gfo*t , , , drourid; would lean, « The prphan fora, bm^Jtet.ftwt For hodm^kd wateh the river; or would lie ' « Your Im^hing ifampr JtaWMWM *»» BeneaW Mnitf age^tree hea birdsd e th r,an 1 dvH " -v* 'r> '••'-' S«W ao cheerfully witd h an ;fain t step The m^den to his heart, fro* fhe s^.hapk,; Wari»^m«Utos % the mountain side.' ' fte loved $03 GLA0SSMWR. 8 29 CLADESMUIR. looo T k upo settine nth g sun mard ,an k those Upo er sod s ed nhi leavean , s were tinged twilight'e Th approachm s di saie wa H e dh . with autumn's yellow colours, they were twined Most happ pooye thath rr ELLEN't Fo aU througS death-wreathsh hiaUf wise . heon . ! Had still been present on his soul>—the wish They made her grave by RONALD'S. That he might breathe his native air again ;*— That praye granteds diee rwa h t homedr a fo , . whem wephi e nr On othefo t r eyes were dry, Treasured his name in silence and in tears, Tilyounr he l g heart's impassioned solitude s filles6othed t wit ha images Wa dbu he hi dSh . And watche hours—bulass w dhi fe t gones wa !e h t The grave to her was now the goal of hope: She passed, but gently as the rose-leaves fall Scattere sprine th y dgb monthgaleso Tw fled .d sha Since RONALD died; they threw the summer flowers ''* ' THE MINSTREI, OF PORTUGAL. 206 % >« j Warm wit e sun'hth s last kiss—sit here, dear love! > This chesuut be our canopy. Look up THE MINSTREL OF - ' ' PORTUGAL• loward. e beautifusth T«™l heavenU faie fi^W!th r moon i £ ' .'•,•.• *< " ' $ 5 Their path h«d beetf »fronbteA 6neieae» «V«» Is shining timidly, Hkfc & young queen Had trod 'mid thorns and springs of bitterness; But theyIwrttoiaway*fito o fear Wh o clait s r fulmhe l authorityw t&e eoMwor.M: * . And found faia n ri , valley, solitude s Aud^ppiiMMiitftjNtHwiw e starTh s hr shin presencehe 'fl»ej n ei > eft,w»?4:v o'eWsk «»re r th »i * '*w M f A •*»* •* «"* ?irzssThrougd^ dare i »h,th r k «i»»forest ; s swhe .goldesa e nfearth n ligus t ^SaSL^KKSfiJT' That e™ *«m *« «" >«»i«» * Or the descending waters'diatant song. And tha s ««* ti perfumyo&n«o g *i«d«d mosean «t huimusical^ delightedl, y ^ Upo r minstrenhe l lover's words, whee nh Breathed «>nte old Jnclanoholyvei=8fi> or toW < Although 510 other SOUllds are On the gale » Love's ever-varying histories r smilhe ed ;an ^w^shiBi so t^Bdeijy, that he («&* |. » Than the soft falling of the mountain fill, scoro thoughr t flatteriet e O nth bu f o t s * Or waving of the leaves. 'Tis just the time , _ . Kno.w love is woman's happiness! i i - ! • *or legend of romance, and, dearest! now COME, love! wfe'B res fros tu m t> Wl lia framee ^Wanderingse on theer dfo t loveif ;i ^ o , : viohte'fcre Th t fresfl amon' mosse gth * Mosfc perfect love, faithfua au f do l heart The dew is not yet OH their purple5 leases, That was a sacrifice upon the shrine THE MINSTREL OJF VOWVV&Alt. 30^ WttWTBWB TU TOttTtfGAtW , 6 g0 . lade th y w oncsa t matiea e H n time,—. Itself had reared I wil! l bcigir t «owi i , Saw her when beat m meek humility Like au old telet-There^s a prints wte, , Befor wa ae e t torsesh th ;the n unveiled, More beaatifol tori spring, when the warm loot k And JUAN gased upon the rase which was Of summer calls the MttShiip^hwe^ek, Thenceforth the world E MINSTRETH 9 P PORTUGALO 20 L s ? ; v 4 ; And melt withi hearts nhi ! .... X ^Uiyf?' fa immortality! The heart whose beat From that time life was one impassioned dream: -*m r r ?fi , :?;,.:... ,-,. - -•;.; --^ .'^ -:^^ *7"1' ' - Is cshoed *>y the lyre, will have its griefs, He lingered on the spo; t which she had made ^ar > ; ; « s „<..-. -,. ,r>A ,v} •» ^ i •- ws tenderness, remembered, when each pulse presencer sacreo thoughS he e h y db d an ,t , ^;n? : - i >H> rs, s y.-.v Has long been cold and still Some pitied him, It happiness to only breatlie the air ,.v-~.s.-> ,-'t^L .l-!n-Sb^.^s.e^'- otherd An * marvelled- <•"•• , hal n mockeryfi : Her perfumed—tusigd hha pres o floot e t sth r f ±; ; " * 1 lh€ ,,..: ..,.,;, ,,.vs nh.,e ^n* «"i^./l «.*-s-? r ' " y "*«© koe^ what^pride love eves ha r Her fa6ry step had hallowed. He renounced ^, , ,^v,i; ,5 ;,-,.,^ self-de?otednessn I ..,-.:•:-;::. e princes* Th . -,-»s hearb ! d All projects of ambitioa, joyed no more . , ,, : u fl ; ,,--v^ v.-./ i •!•: •. K« n^tl ^uii '---^ -' » er pale lover; bat none ever knew In pleasures of his age, but like a ghost, ^ ' \. , , " ..., ,.,*•„. -, '\^',.,;-? -v-« -;ai^.ui;ti* ^-•s-.-'f;- •.-;-• Her aeeret^thooihts: she heard it silently. ConBned to oae peculiar spot, he strayed ^t ^ ^ ;, r ; ; : <. •.. -,,.>.:. -; -. -,,. ~ •'^-•-•^ iv-.l in ioft ^;./; ' t woman'bu « e b coul t sd no hear t must feel Where first he saw the princess j and the court K# ,1 ^^i^iV „ ...... , . , -.. . ,^J- ~: •>wu;>~. »iMhm I^M fceo- ^-'-' ouch fon d faithfudan l homage!—But some deemed Through which she passed to matins, now became ; * « *«- ^ --- 5 4 • ? ^,.-...-. ^.-. v.^ ,7Hi '}'tw bieia d>;ss >^--^ Jc-ven such timid worship was cot meet To Mm a horae; and either hef recalled ^ ? 5 ' ; = ,«o^ •!*{i--vy -.»? '.ha! *|9riT ,-rtwr^ -•= - for royalty. They bad e youteth h depart, Fondly her every look, or else embalmed i. ,«;U:ci>n ,,; , ,, .„,; h ,,v.-* :=d .hiyyi fi«d ui'?*. ?a£ii &«s t'-' ; And the lang sent him gold; he turned away, Her name in :wild, sweet song. .... y - .....,....«....•,. cj.-.r-.'.Jlb j-:'? ^we *^« «H fciirt;'; And would not look upoa the glittering treasure— lovs Hi e grew blazed abroad—a poets love -« ^-.t,^,, A-^,^,,4,, H:,.;;f ,_,^ ,,.- ,.i; ,,;/. 4rr-.si bu»^- :•!;! ' .^i:; i^'i^u&i* v^jLr • v-: :. *.-• i And then they banished e himhearH ! d they msa •? P glO THB MW«RM. OF PWTWA*. ME MINSTJIEL OF PORTUGAL. 211 exiln a s eH witewa hghastla y smue•i , MI «fca0fl^«smilp His princess nevej r knew an earthly love; And murmured not-but .-ose and left the city. She vowed herself to Heave s t d swee 8tra a death r he f o ovenh e He went on silently, until he came ™»»^> « Th To where a ,.littl„ . , , ,e «r«hil ln *oroseW an , covered o er ^ music came, deliciou dreama s sa : With lemo i n shrub , j golded u,^san «n oranges«-«««*. «• . With thar spirihe t t parte* d* from this earth. The windows ofe th^e palacIA e wher^Kareo sh«T,eA dweldwfltt _ Many remembered that it was the hour er His so loved IsABEi^-o'erlooke, , , „d, th.»e- place«iaoo. ^ humble lover iperished! Ther soms ewa e gorgeous fete lighe thereth r t fo , Streamed through the lattices, and a far sound Of lute danced an ,song d an , , came echoing. The wanderer hid his face; hut from his brow s handHi s fell powerless! Some gathered round And raise from e grounddhi mth s eyehi : s were closed, cheed an kp li wer s eHi colourless;—they told His heart was broken! .... p 2 THE BASQUE 0IRL AND KENRI QUATRE. 218 Is murmure winde th grase y th :db s beneath Is full of wild flowers, and the cypress boughs * THE Have twined o'er head, graceful and close as love, BASQUE GIRL AND HENRI QUATRE. ft»' ° "^ "***- ""H- -«« 8 c cter T His rays may pierce through the dim shade, yet still Lovetsu^erflower.^wsoonthou.rt^ed! ° S° $™™S '* trees» «« , blue eth d flDO An es di lidin * b?> «• brisht S'^ S m6 ldel1 hU6e Sar The very memory of thy happiness ,« . . , Departe s Hopd A wit ehs firs thyt b«autrn>r«atsmile. Allh an,d fetoolingeringm , staye gazo dt e v Gone, and the trusting 'heart which thou hadst made So «re*n, so lovely, for thy dweiiing-piaee, Upon this Eden of the painter's art, desolationa Lef t tbu . And, lookin s lovelinessit n go , forgot 'TWAS one of those sweet spots whicl,., i seem .jus t.t mnmadA^e The crowded world around them!—But•" a* sspell'e"l For lovers'meeting i w,,n* « • . , or e for mmstrsl hauntStronge; r tha e greenth n landscape fixe e eyedth — * «" / , , , t i i^ « i:r,,i T^e spel woman'f lo s beauty!—B ybeeca h The maiden's blus h woul1Jk d look so beautiful r ' > , ., . j Whose long dprk shadow fell upon the stream, B • thosy B e whit* epoee rosesth dreas t d an ,m nMt c roftm „ ,, , ... , „ ,. t _. . There stood a -adiant girl!—her chesnut hair— » Woul soothiago s e dnoteb w lo ,s e lulleth y db tKo n nntp The birds sing to th„ e leaves, , whos. Me onsoffft ^^i.reply. One brigh^ t6 gold tint was on it—looselJy fell 214 THE ,A«tU» flIKI. ' ANB HENRI QUATRE M5 In large rteh ^irls'upoii a< aeck whose tooW^ And tender playfulness: you looked and said, And grace were like the two*; Ab'wfti* the ga*V What can have shadowed such a sunny brow? villagen heid ow r -Oan , smalhe f l white .lee« t ^ a *. i. - ^rt ™M+B iWt '- * Ther«e is so much of natural happiness ! And slende than I tr brighanclest ,countenance delicatjv ^ ^ s, ' eA K.WA . as t *seem i earV A * formet sbu M d » From Indian *yoty, were We,-th r ^ring's,lighFo e tarf t sunbeamf ^lightet ye r so r dews. Youtwn Seemed scarc feeo et l Weft- fittwtt."^ s •way-4k«^1^** «»«n came-and looked again, i ii»n>Si,s .< - Watchin e palgd silenth ean t loveliness, stood1 * • ).. »«u^ %t*^ai4*s rfAiM*" • f •' Till evea sleep was haunted by that image. Her head feant dn te'arrii,'IhfL r beeeli-s tratt«- i 3 "» Supporting her slight fig^anll oM ft*d ' ' - * ^ ^ «P°» S ~ There a se ered chain thc roafld tfffl'teo heattt r Presf i he s to ,a t thr^ '- -« Ah! lov eves ei n more fragile tha giftss nit ! You never migh.>* t *forge. "«.'*i^i.-t that *fa«e,^-« u». L^««"^lfne»o yotmg-, A tress graven hair:—oh! onlyJ those >, ^>™*rk j t. »«i«irji44i*i««* ' " »• Whose spujs have felt thiidolatrye son . So fair, yet traeect with l such dedp character T Of inward wretchedness<• *eyee kTh *•!wfif • fnm^ dim. w^'^^,11, ^ Ca* n tell how.precuws s s is the slightest thing i*,»H5m * ' n1 * . , „ , Affection give hallowsd san deaA ! d flower With dare tearth kn lashesso p ;li stil e tt l » •Ji* ^.»A o^su Will long be kept, remembrancer of looks Could not quite lose its own accustomed sittilu, v"& * , , .^, ., , ^«. That made each lea treasurea f . An tree deth Eve thay nb t pale chee t kkepi arcs it t h x *- HENRD AN I QUATR&* 2l^ BASQUS TH E GIRL*3 $ sligho tw td wordHa s graven upo e stem*ait — Love, thou hast hopes like summers shor bright,d tan ' brokee Th a heart's Itjst recor s faith*it f do — Moments ofs e&stssy, and Maddening dreams, ADIEU" ,. HENR . , " I,I . ^ Intense, delicious throbs happinesst Bu ! < * learnI aoilafijthees I histor lovele . e th t th . f yy o . picture . If:'ever thou hast know* n It was a peasant girl's, whose soul was given « Quiet, yet deep enjoymentti,? s or ere presency Th confesseds ei ; but, once revealedpine th e s abov r aa e s fa r ,on ehe o T e d Towers o'er the lowly violet; yet still * k°W w «s°WR in passionate devotion beloves lovede wa d Sh dan , again—er t eye Vowe feao dt y altar, the serpente nth s wake mane Th y trammel worle th f dso were flung That coil arouu votaries—hopey dth s that make Around a heart whose first and latest pulse Fears buruiiigarrows-i—lingering jealousy, Throbbe beautyr fo t dbu : him younge ,th brave e th , , AndJasfc wo,rst poiso n How much she was beneath him; bat she prayed Tha woule h t d look upo r facnhe e once more! . . . He sought the spot—upon the heecheu tree THE SAILOR. ADIEU" , HENRI! gravenhears s hi " wa d t an , Felt cold within turnehime wavee H th ! o d,t Oh, gioriousiy npo deec nth p The gallant vessel rides, And there the beautiful peasant floated—Death And she is mistress of the winds, And mistress of the tides. Had sealed Love's sacrifice! And never but for her tall ships Had England bee prouo ns d; Or befor Islanmighe e eth th f dto Queen The kings of the earth had bowed. But, alas! for the widow and orphan's tear. When the death-flag sweeps the wave ; Alas! that the laurel of victory Must gro t upow gravbu e nth eI AN aged widow wit onle hon y child, And even he was far away at sea: Narro mead wstreee an nth t wherei dwelte nsh , And low and small the room; but still it had ^^^^E TH 22^0 THE SAILOR. A look ^^of comfort; on the white-washed walls y grm h whic t tha m fro p ag 8li Itwa Were range manr dhe y ocean-treasures—shellsttage, onc ownr ehe , whic, h ever drew Tho C0 Some snowlik some d eth ean , pi»k, wit blusha h Praise from eacfe pagser dowQ t{ie shadowy Iane Caught fro sunsee waterse mth th n o t ; plumes Where r homhe e stood-—the home whersh t ye e From the hright pinions of the Indian birds; thought Long dark sea-weeds, and black and crimson heroes, To end her days ia peace: that was the hope Were treasured wit treasurine hth hearte th f go . That made lif eheed pleasantd ha nfe t i d an , Her sailor brought them, when from Ma first ^voyage j^ bo r he f o 8 spirit t ar(fefl o s e th He came so sunburnt and so tall, she ^^^ scarc^ e g bleg effort d wul D Go t tlia d gai o Wh Knew her fair stripling in that,manly youth. phis old mother.—Like a holiday r o Lik memoriaea better fu f o rl days, Each Sunday came ther r patienfo , nhe y wa t The large old Bible, with its silver claspp, , She took to the white church of her own village, Lay on the table; and a fragrant air A long five miles; and many marvelled oae Came windowfrpe mth : there sfood a rQse-tres-^ So aged o feeW<}>s ) stju ghouW geek lhat clmfc^ Lonely, hut of luxuriant growth, and rich They knew uot how delicious the fresh air, With, thousand,bud beautifulld aan faigreee w yth r blow nHo fieldse glaleaveth w udd ho ,flowers san ; E SAILORTH . 232 222 r«l« SAILOR. belle Th s rang forth rejoicingly sunshine Th countrye th eyee pathf e eth o s th , o t ,s That looke seldoo ds themn woule mo Sh t .dsi Were filled with people; ev« lone nth e street Long after servic gravea n watcd eo an , h Wher pooe eth r widow dwelt rouseds wa ,slee d an , p cattl e thoughs Th thes eWa a yt grazedupo moro nn yelloe eth , thaw cornt night, . Next day— The lane where yet her home might be: and then A bright and sUnny day it was—high flags Return with lightened r dulhearhe l o streett , Waved from each steeple greed ,an n boughs were hung Refreshed with hope and pleasant memories,- In the gay market-place5 music was heard, Listen with anxious ear to the conch shell, Bauds that struck up in tr^inph; aud the sea Wherein the a y se sa e rolline yth th f go Was covered with proud boatvesselse th d s an ; hears I d distinct, pra her yfo r absent child, shoree th wavind o an ,fr d gWen an hand o t t s . . j „.„Bles„A,,. ,.£s himi,;m , then dream or him. ... Beckoned from crowded gladecke th d o stranst d » Where the wife waited for her husband,—maids shouA t awoke sleepine th g town nighe th , t Thre brighe wth t curls back from their glistening eyes looked RanAn dg theiwit fleet'e hth r best,—ans retur victorysplashine d th nan s da r ! goa . Men that were slumbering quietly,-rose up Brought dear ones to the land, how every voice And joine e shoutth d e windowth ; s gleamed wit!' Grew musical with happiness therd An e! lights, ^, THE SAILOR. 225 - * SAILORE TH . 224 „ , , For him by his fond parent nurse; the last Stood that old widow woman with the rest, „*.-,,<, ^ Was Iaced l s nhi Watching the shy, ». .> wherei, , . n had sailed her son. P WP pUlow, and tha> t* -night *• '.4 ,^ • • s * .. .^* / , . That verlais ydwa nighte h diedd e h , An ! A hoat came ieom that vessel,—heavil% y ^i••»«'. sawe th sn I church-yard wher• fathes — e hi v la r It toiled upon the waters, and the osrs ««^ * < « •" , « .... . Through which Ms mother as a bride had passed. Were dippe slowlyt n aearedi i s beache A dth . , . * ».»*•« -w . ^ t . The grave was closed; but still the widow sat *u«* ^ « moaninA o»? g sound cam groaa d e nfroan , mit \/ Upon a sod Reside, and silently Burst from the lips of all tne anxious there, l^"J - * - • • t grie(Herno fs thaswa t word comford sha t for) When they looked on ea*h ghastly countenance, ,fii»ita« , , > * ', ' The fttneral train passed op, and she was left For that lone boat was fitted with wounded men, fc t**,ii.^* - ' i Alone ami tpmbse dth t onc lookee bu ; esh d Bearing e hospital,—antlieth mo t d then t*w { ; «. s » • - ,! Toward shadowe sth y lane, then turned again, That age e prayeddSh r sonwomahe . , w nsa .M|*MI ^* , v 1 « , ,, ... As desolate and sick at heart, to where d gaineAn r prayerdhe , tha e s mighnursesh tM e b t, ^ .»« ».u», , , , _ , Some enteretherd sate an , e sh , dit , i breatho T fragrane eth r senai t t fro rosese mth — ~*^ »« f a«i '„'. t >,j < ;j-. -t - - r P Her white hair hanging,o'e witheree th r s d hands The roses that were gathered one by one "v- VM "»>». w« ^• ;s,i ,i *, j.^, t f : Q gg(J 3PHB SAILOR, On whic r palhhe e fee© leant Bible th ; y ela Open besid^, but blistered were the lepes THE C O VEN ANTERS. With two or three largo tears, which had dried in. Oh nod , happ tta l survivee y.h *U « db ^ESESTJSr 4 „„« u * . t f , , . And the owl and the bat may their night-watch keep And many pitied her, for she had spent v^,, human faceg gmile(} Her little savings, and she had w> friends; i roofed the cradle of seven fair sons, t Audi worke their dfo r infancy; But stransrers made her grave m that church-yard, But, WISB use a ciuid to n»sne owndd »g», 8 , t There are none to work for met And, where her sailor slept, there slept his mother! I } NEVER! I will not know another home. 11. • . Ten summers hare passed OB, with the» blue skies, Green leaves, and singiBg-biras, an* swn-ldssed fruit, * ' « * »i* Q2 COVENANTERSE TH . 8 22 9 22 COVENANTERSE TH . When it looked very beautiful to me! -.••'•••=••;. ••:-:'-' -• ••--''•'" , Gemm>d With red roses> and white apple blossoms, thae se tu Dbaroyo e spotk oa ,d wherol e eon ', , i . _, '" ' Were food for the two hives, whence all day long Stands blac tk au d leaflessfl , as if scorched by fire, - J 6 There cam emusia c likpleasane eth t sound While round it the ground seems as if a curse r» Of the rejoicing swallows, whose warm nest ; £i; e J - ./, u tjir. There came a shadow o'er the land, and men Was buil safetn i t y underneat thatche hth ; j ^ -; ; ; v,,j -.rfii =,™ ^/ na - -it ^ tomu;! Were hunted by their fellow men like beasts, A honeysuckle on the sunny side , • f oi« uHMi n> hiSiiyM •, ,/c ii u And the sweet feelings of humanity Hung round the lattices its fragrant trumpets. in i ; .? j,fi;Ht >!i:i^ '»-;; ;si->.i.5-..--j"i'•/-ws!.-. - Were utterly forgotten; the white head, ' Around was a small garden: fruit and herbs ; n ; 1 < ,; hU •?« iJaa' s» * ; j s»h u ); ; -i»v d darkened with bloo d dust dan s oftewa , n laid Wer; e« ther n comelei y plenty T d soman ; e flowers, i w -0 a ,u r-i f- n f H c •<>;.-) Upon the murdered infant, for the sword Heath fro mountainse mth wildine th d gan , bus, h ; ; ! . '^i . : i prid u crueltd ^ = s esenan slao yt wa t y /u n< r THE1 23 COVENANTERS. COVENANTERSE TH $3. 0 * &.-AI. My ontyom- Tne vision haunts me still: Those wha in »ge would not foreg o itht e lawn .,» The white arms raised to Heaven, and the long hair, thesef o e :on s wa I The grow. d in y ha p nu How could I close th, e Bibl_„.e 1_ .ha d. read, BrighD t as the«. ligh? t besid. e ,it' . stiff on the head , . . , , , . Upright, from terror. In th1 accursed glare . , ,, r Besid dyiny em g mother, whic gived hha n knee W w each otherI hear y d cr «dan a ; « . «« jA To me and mine such comfort A l But flie hand !»-.».» ^ : , . 4 . _ Half tenderness, half agony,—a crash,— oppressoe Ofth r smot . eTherns e were shrieks, --.«.: ,,,,»* rooe fTh fell chil in,—y moreo m d n w 1!sa , „ , , And naked swords, and faces dark as guilt, \ „ , „ . - A cloud closed round me, a deep thunder-cloud, , f , A rush of feet burstina , g fort flamef ho , ' p . , Half darkness and half fire. At length sense came, Curses, and crashing boards, and infant words , ,. n ,,r , i,,s Prayin n r mercygfo thed an ,n ?-.-, childis>h scream-, ^ s ^ij- t, ««a«,a With a rememb'ring like that which a dream Of fear and pain. mTher e were Athes. e .th, et las, t„ nigh. «f t Leaves..j-7,1 -o,f vagur°e horrors,. . ; but, th; e heavy 'chain, loathsome Th e straw whic min s , hewa onl , y bedt J , . The white walls of my cottage stood; they bound '» . ,f / ,„ •. . , c , ' The si< 1 nroa fl And flun dowe gm n besid oake eth watco ,t h. . i i ' ' '* 'i. ? , 1,.1*,?- , ? i%l> ^S* * t g the dim bars, the damn, 5 • , f1 The silence, were realities; and then . t , ,> . , I ; . fird ere Ho gatherede wth , like tha hellf o t . cole dth n stoneso wepy d la an ,tI aloud,.,,.', , Ther e latiieeeth spran o d leant ,an e , , gt,on stortn • , (JJ , , i >« prayed fevee An dreturth o t r n again, . , , . .. Gaspin e fresth r h gfo air,—m fain ryow girl! , , , 3 COVENANTERS28 E TH . W T»g COVENANTER. And briug death iwitb it. Yet did I ee&jpp,*** Of blood and ashes did I kneel, and pour Again I draak the fresh bl«© air of h£ftvfi»» » - To the great Gob my gratitude! That curl 4 t witwe h s feld e sunshinltearth tAn Wa f happinessso e lau|b.upO; tha brewy B m t > step. *• , ( I thought then lwQuld,se«kfmy d^sqlal© horns, That voice, wete sweet familiar ones,_one child And die where it had ,bee»» vj^ea<^dj,h%plfice:, My eldest gdn, was sent me from the grave! The ground was bare and scosche^ajidjft^roidst That night he had escaped. . . Was a black heap of ashes. Franticly I groped amid them, ever and mm ». •>»i « >? u / We left the desolate valley, and we went Meeting some, huowci fraginenl* skills »an«l JMMM** Together to 4he mountains and the woods, Shapeless and wcf^f* f»U % draw a, A long and beautiful curt of sunny fea^r, v ,- t Till a strong Spirit came upon men's hearts, Stainless and golden, »* ta»* ^ft just,|evfir,ed». t, And rouged them to avenge their many wrongs. love-gifA t frqn* the, heash—rj .t stoodm k»«Wfthar Ye e battle-n i th the t d ey no iiaiffrrr* an , x It was my daughter's!. There I stood, and.howJed Of the oppressor was at first too mighty. Curses upon thai njghk .Thenj.cam eV4>ie§a , *j Albei I havt etheie livese ro d t bond s There ^ame^ a ge,n|le s^pjr-efen m tMM®$ Rent like burnt flax, yet much of blood was spilt *&84 THE COVENANTERS. , Or ever the deliverance was accomplished. We fled in the dark night. At length the moon / , ; ? s e midnight,—wheRosth n eo e facth e w sa nI Of my last child was ghastly white, and set ?:-<,, In the death-agony, and from his side r; . >,r - ? ; ; The life-blood came like tears; and then I prayed } , J{ ; v? > s > « - / ^ •• / Tha e woul th e stancm dt e le woundresthth d an , . f"i T /' ? I f : v f - f •/; * 17 R A P M 1? T\T T1 SI He motioned me to fly, and then lay down .,-,.-.,* -.^^.IVfoT* • ii .;.^?* Upon the rock, and died! This is his grave, L ; f nhr ; -,..,.: His home and mine. Ask ye now why I dwell I ,( v ;/ i; ,, ? , Upon the rock, and loathe the vale beneath? i^ir* f ; h ,< { , >, THE SOLDIER'S FUNERAL. AND the muffled drum rolled on the air, Warriors with stately step were there; blace th Os kn crapeverwa m eyai bound, Every carbine was turned to the ground: Solemn the sound of their measured tread, As silen slod wan t they followe deade dth . The riderless horse was led m the rear, There were white plumes waving over the bier; Helme sword an t d wer palle e th lai ,n do For it was a soldier's funeral. 238 THE SOLDIER'S FUNERAL. THE SOLDIER'S FUNBHAL. 2*K) That soldier had stood on the battle-plain, I saw a poor and an aged mau. wans wa : feeblep stes s li Hi pwa s hi , Where every ovestes slaine pwa th r ; knelnew-raisee e dowth H m n lu tn o d mound , , balpassee d by bran e th ha lm th d dt hi d an Bu And he came to his native land to die. His face was bowed on the cold damp ground, "Twas raisebare headH coms o d t tearda M thao hi e,t s twer native done,e knd_, fathee prayed Th ha r d o'e onls rhi Any t clas sonfamiliae dno pon ! r hand! 'Twas hard to be numbered amid the d«4, coule h e Od er rhea welcoms hi r e said! But 'twas something to see its cliffs once more, And to lay his bones on bis own torsd shore; To think that the friends of Ms youth might weep greee O'eth ru grass tur thf o fe soldier's sleep. The bugles ceased taeif wsffisg sound coffie loweres th wa ns A d int grounde oth ; A volley was fired, s blessing said, One moment's pause—and they left the dead!— ON IWRKIXG A W>VE-LETTER. 241 Soon the light from the embers past, 1 felt so sad to see it die, So bright at first, so dark at last, LIKES I love's fearewa st di history. WHITTS2I CKDBR A HCTCTW OF A 6IRI. WJIWIXO A LQVK LBTTMl. Thw«» el» » «th """W** T **"***a * tkte«* itsf«w»*«»*Al* tb l l teart's fond cww»itt««f. TOO1 K tltc scroll I ««rf; t brooAno k Aa eye to gm*e ©a it, »« ni»€; I could not fear another's look Should dwell upcm ©BC thought of thine. My lamp was b»rainf % my e»dc» I held thy letter to the flame, markeI btee dth e swift ti o'er K It did not ev«n spare thy name. ARIOM. ^48 Agai nI mus t liste gently nth e tone, And mak s echeit musin oi owny cm ; A B. I O N. Again I must look oa thy smile divine, flowerd Agaire e snI th mus twine se t e A TALE. Around my harp, enwreathed % thine hand, And wake chord s love'ny it m t ssa command.— TH havI Ee wind dwel distanhigha e n cloudsar e i t lovelt th , darke tbu sar y ,place , But stay not thou for storm, my bark; And worshipped many a radiant face; What is the song of love to me, And sipped the flowers from the purple wine, Unheard, my sweet Eoi^, by thee? jjut ^ey were not so sweet m one kiss of thine. Fair lips may smile, and eyes may^hine; I have wandered o'er land, 1 have wandered o'er sea, But lip nor eye will be like thine, But my heart has ne'er wandered, EGL.-K, from thee.— And every blush that mantles here And, GREECE, my own, my glorious landt But images one more bright and more dear. I wiu take no laurel but from thy hand. My spirit of song is languid and dead, What is the light of a poet's name, cons hi nt tono y s i tha t i tf I hallow t femes thina sM t eI?no f alta beautf o r y fed. R2 244 A »»N. ARJON. §45 watchee H d each dar ^oe Wherguerdor kh k fo y fac ema efaio us tha t t appeared, As the honour a»d praise that await him thereti And saw each heart with gold was seared, His name will be lost aad his grave forgot, , , Then roused his spirit's energy, If the tears of his country preserve them »ot! . . . And sfcood prepared in pride to die! ... He laid him Oft the deek to Bleep, < , He east one look upon his lyre*- And pleasant was Ms rest, and «deep ;„ , • , He felt his heart and hand 0» fire, He heard familiar yoiees speak, « , And prayed the slaves to let him pour spiris s sonit Hi n gi tfellove'sIweats e oncH hi t e more hi*cheekn !ho 5 He looked upetf Jm own blue skies, • • He sung,—the notes at first were law, rttf-fcie H » satire .temples rise , ; Lik whispere eth breathing e lovef sth o r ,o woef so s Ev«n in dfearns he wept to aeu . , , The waters were hushed, aa4 the winds wers stayed, What to had loved so tenderly. , ,• , AS he sang his farewell to his Lesbian maid t The sailors looked -withis the hold, « Even his misrde#ers paused and wept, ., An4^*iedhimiWsishw»g,fold; , , But looked on the gold and their purpose kept They waked *Mnj^,ba4 mswrm wwee «hi kth . More prwtdl yswepU ch«^de th t s along, And said 'Awa Aww'y sfy e g*avf I- , * 'Twa stirrine sth g buts f «battl6 t e sowg— im ARIOS. ARJON< S47 And with tlie last close of .Ma martial strain Upon a dtolphinl All is calm He plunged with Ms lyre i» the deep blue majn i Arotind-ahe air he breathes is balm, tempese Th t. ha . s .bnrs , t fro5blac*enes mit d Andqu |ej; ag fce neaske tyhth dwelling, %Ofhis own flowery Aready; ! The lightnin flashings gi watere th , s .are swelling 4$$ au grows peaceful, as he rides la mountains crested with fotwm and«w|th froth^ His dolphin through the glassy tides; An wine masie rushes deveth h d dha s a rAn c ddre IHee-fw i giant-forth^ The deck is all spray, the n»ast is shattered, prom ^s sweet harp, a brightening hue, The sails, like the leafes-m the autumn, are scattered; Lb0i^ tints, a gentle bound, n ra W The mari»er 's pal« with grarfeara r fo ,e creature th Tolw deho love sounde dth . Is in the dark bosom of w»y wave. ARION, some god has watched over thee, billowe Th s rushed—one fearfully And saved the seae th alik .d ean fron mma Is heard of human agoay! . The night came on, a summer night, Another swell—no trace is s^en With snowy clouds and soft starlight; Of what upon its breast has been! .... And glancing meteors, like the flash a se o'e o e hes i r th wh ,o Bu wh t Sent fro mGreea k girl's dark eyelash Bnlpc lik ogoda , triumphantly, 3$. AlliOJi. ARION. QW swepe e stringsSh th t fixe d wMle an ,dth e bhie^yes,,n ow r blus he a s y ea , sk O'e a r Born windy eb perfumes sa lighdar d dan He *t ns.hey*e*ap wil sighsd luxurian. t smile The zenith moon was shedding her ligh,t, , „, \ Upon Anjtow; m$ her lip, " silence IDth glord ean f dee yo p midnight , •, Like the'first' sprin sipn g ca ros, e e he tha e th t s Whe voice nth singin f eo hea^s gwa d %m; qfor,* Cttrted'hkt t?rn fI e 'pridloveliness,s it f eo ' Like the music .that echoes a falling,stari . t, , Aad half with a tore-sigh's voluptuousness. And presently came gliding by The Spirit of the melody; , , , ,j j There is a voice of music swells radianA e ocelli'th tn I shapes coral'grovesr lonhe , g gold hai; r i »-'< \ Flew like a banner on the air, , „ - Sweet is the harp in the pearly cells, r twoo Sav e , brigheon t curls that i ?fel« , l Where'th ee sea-mai steth f po d roves. Like gems,upon a neck wh,ose §w^U , », ; The angry ^torrn wheii it^r'olls above, Hos t wae A likdove'sre witeth foamine hth * .whe gs mate' nwaveit s, pftref? s smoothinI sofe gth t softs plumesI ? aM- iMender.ue.lsIc-w'a voice sth love f eo / ; ^_ And one arm, whit-e as the sen*sprayt , ,i i Ere it r6adt'her" sparry cave. Amid chorde th s -r musif so , c lay , . seekn Whe su s gloriou shi e nth s rest, An beams dhi s o'er 'ocean fall, §50 ARIOK. AIUOX. 261 crimsone th gole d e lookeH dTh an , spread upoth n nativds o e nhi west e shore, , s voyageHi perilous hi , s voyag Brighteo'ers ei . crystar nhe l hall. d stoo e The sands of amber breathe perfume, a temple bTher y the sea, Gemmed with pearls like tears of snow, Raised to its queen, AMPHITKCTB: Around in wreaths the white sea-flowers bloom, ARION entered, and kneeling there a S irlw sa » Iike H e spring-day feirTh, e wave -musin si c flow. Child of the lyi-e! is not this a spot Feeding with incense the sacred flame, d dh ehear hymnt breather i Thad he Anan name,ts wouldhi . d sui minstrea t l well! Then haste thee and share the sea-maid's lot, > Oh kove! a whole life is not worth this bliss— Her love, and her spar*built cell. EGM has> met her Aiwwr's kiss!— They raised an altar upon the sea-shore, ARION scarcely heard the strain, And evei7 sPring they covered it o'er r son losts r smilHe gvainwa s he , ewa , With woo e fruitflowers,od th f dan o s fielde th f , d tQ He had a eharm, all charms above, e richesAn t perfumes that the East could yield; s a d To guard his heart-^-the charm of love. theAn waves rolled, they knelt by the side, He floated on. The morning came, And poured their hymn to the Queen of the Tide, With lip of dew and cheek of flame; 3 25 MANMADIN. Tempest winds rush fierce along, Bearin souna t gsongf ye d o ; ! J: MANMADIN, THE INDIAN CUPID, . , FLOATING DOWN THE GANGES.* ' Wafting thee, y0UBg JMANMAMN1 ' Pillowed on a lotus flower THERE is darkness oa the sky, ' Gathered in a summer hoar, And the troubled* wares sun high,« «> Hides hefo'er the mountain wave And the .lightning iash is, braking / , Which w^d.b e'a tal l ship>8 .gmye. 1 s baehi Kt A liis hoie thunder th s rslung,i d An , pea' '"'.*«l M wakin */ g, *. Reddening meteors, .strang brightd ean - , Sugi^cane, with wild bees strung,— Cross the % rainbow's timid ligfe*; ! Bees bbra with the buds of spring, f mingledi t s witA Ye h ,eac hope fe ». .? ' -!T . ' u- i r 1 Arrow thein si r silken band, •Caradeo, or Manmadin, the Indian Cupid, Is pictured in Ackqruuwn's prett\ « , ' , - p . work on Hindosta another^rmn ni ! tf^ riiin^a gWtrf»paftdt;1fls bow ot * « n»a$ a Signa f eO l flower, sugar-cane, the cord of bees, an dl his arrows all sorts of flowers; but one alone ac is hea fwadcae th d d coverean , d with joi»y-efis)tb. i<« "j •! «!«fi'v'r't Emble s varieit mf o d power; 4 25 MANMAfWN. HANKAMH. 255 Some formesilvee th f rdo leaf Droopingly, round some were bound; Of the almond, bright and brief, Others were with tendrils wound Just a frail and lovely thing, Of the green «««* laughing vine,-- For but one hour's flourishing; &** the tob was dipped ia w*«e. Others whosn o , e shaft their glows B»t «H these are summer ills, e beautd rosee re th f e ;yo Th kike tn free whose stem distils Som spring'n ei s half-folded bloom, Balm beneath its pleasant shade e woundsHts,thorath n I Som summer'n ei ss havfull eperfume made. ; Some with withered leave sered an i , Thoug idwere h th faddie y d esan ma , Falling with the tailing year; s bu>Ti t a light penalty* Some bright with the rainbow*dyes - All these bloom*clad darts are meant; t fo Bu short-livea r d content? tulip'e Oth f s vanities; Some, bflund witl fiiy*e th j s bell, arroYepowee a s on t wha r Breath lavf eo e that dare t telslno Lasting till life's latest hour— s sweeIt t feelings dafe th ;k leaves sleeplesd Wearan y yda s night, Of the esignum, which grieve* Lightning gleams of fierce delight, &B MAmAm. 3UNMAWN. $ff Fragrarit a« dwoun fdA t pMsonedVlhlN **** »f«*'a f ^ a fA ^w. , Agonie^aridecstasleV? " *'* '! *"*^ Bowing yOUng he^rts *° the'^mbl , Hopes, liM fires llnW W^ m%8*^ be oa tlm %, Lighting only wmlee *th ecmkmld » WAn ° ^tft b*k^ ' ,** ^A Happiness «fii *HW ^^ MAW^ PW by. And the Jtmil Earth H^^J^81^ ?*»^ Doubt, Well»lfed to »e^ ofe Lo^! *. Are upon that honied shaft! ^ It has made the crowned Mag . - - - ? Crouch beneath his suffering; % * „ ,. ,; Made the beauty's cheek more pale , «*5 - r« ^ , , v ^, k Tha foldinge r veilnth he ;f so *" . * s * lake a child the soldier kneel * '. ? i t 2, „ Who had mocked at flame or steel; J**j.i^ -p ?***• „" i *'-<* ,« ^ -• c-ffl Bad e fireeth s ofgenias tara *• r i- s>^ !,,?_ , - ' ^ a-l On their own breasts, and there burn; 4,%f«t na»ti ? %? ^-,-.*->»« t.^-* »r* s FEMALE TH E CONVICT. 259 4 , J " II H t , ' » , > i,-- .*' '• »* They were sailing o'er the salt sea-foam, ' ,.»»«'»< r fro. r countryFa mhe i ' r fror home.. fa ,m he ; ' T,BE JEflMAM CJHRICI;,* And iwiy ai» ff &fe WnW f&Mtotej , nama s hideo et Wa , an '•!»«.dmemora weepo yt . ! SHE shrank from^V, »adjier s%*4 W* », i And herfirttlreMd forth but ttitf felon's lot, Made her wish only for solitude,: r,., »,..»,, To live forsaken—to die forgdt! Her eye sought, fhe gcaund, as % ,^4 wt, J^ok, SHe doftW not w^p, and she could not pray, 0 J innermosr Fo t stapie aopther'n o , Io 9^t o k j . Bllt 8he Mgfe Withered dan d fr6t'y o mdayda , And the cheering! of,eojnfort fplla^ hftf pr. Till y6ti m^ght Have cdunted each sunken'vein Like deadliest words,,that,were curses to hewlrr- wh^ yr ^^ Ms pr^ ^ ^ iron ^? She still was young, and she^bee^&fe;, „ And sorii^irrieV I tho^t herlarg^'darfe eye t weather-stainsBu , hunger the^fi^etd Ha ^ toU f i-edtrtsanlty,o ian d fiarg, , ! . < « That fros d fevean t r that wea e heartth r , Had made the ct>lour ^e Sh ^f so Wf eypu On6 $^o et d^ s]cepingm^ .placc. From the saljo^ cheek, save ^yfir^ stran $amj,A ^, ^,. , Jook ^a8 ^^ ^ ^ The burningflusl^ pf.the sPir^sss^m| .{ t Her tfagKee eey d ^ hef. ch6eK so,^ite> n Nll(1 • suge^fifey^,itrf^t^#^riftu%in^^JMww'? «f ^« Like a gravestone s«en in the pale moonllffht • o mariner, quoteReviee LITBBABe th th n di f w o tzarVG m s2 260 TUB FEMAt¥ CONVICT, THS pBMAJ.B CONVtCT. 961 spokAne Jowa dsh n ei , unearthl fled,y tone i —i iif „ e siac g j oo s ong d ee ug wake g ha m drea s Thi The sound from mine ear hath never gooel* « And hopes which I deemed in my heart were dead! haI " dj last nigh __« t the loveliest dream; g luin e hav } buj tstil noe t spoket) hav e W e n0rt th owy n hernM O lan« « nd accent summeshone th n ei s r thaheap tonguety dwel,th n o l ; safieldI e « w" th s of the golde , n grain, l recai tj oy IT Maroy the ra e musiC ethe i hear " reapere dth s bamst-strajw thinge Th « s lon; g hidde Memory'y nb > s pall! " There stood m the hills the gree,n pino4we, « Take this long curl of yellow hair, ' And, the thrash ^fld the lark san ^g wemly.. « i my ef) m hi l tel d an > father y ffl t i e gif d An " A long and a weary way I had cope 5 ^ « My dyillg prttyer< was for hiaii,, ^ ^ ^ " But I stopped, methought, by mine own sweet home. , I stoo " d by/the fathe y hearth t therem sa d r an ,, N*>xt riafr « With pale, thin face, a«nd snow-white biOrl Upon the d6ck a coffin lay. «• The Bible lay open uWn ^ knee, , , They mise fd . a ^ ftnd n|w f tt dirg,6 > closee h t d «theBu , bopf >velo t e ome n^, ; th0 r e t e surge !gwqi c ga1 r The beayj C « He led me i,«r corpge t wherTh e ^e g.vj cr^ mp^he ^ ^r jay ^ m, d m ^ (, ' " And together we knelt by h^ gr^e to pray, Th(J ^^ Wg foto(jfiu ^ greefl ^ ^a ^ " And heard a hymn it was heaven to hear, , { 1S > , „ r ti , » , ,ut >( kl| " For it echoed one to my young days dear. i . , , u* . , , ^ - ' * THE PAINTER'S LOVE. Sw » t> >< •" , , 'Tis very long since 1have seen i i *» n - <-M n«> The ivy's death-wreath, cold and green, O«M * << iu YOUR skies are bine, your 'etih Vbright?' 4I By ttJfftflpw»tifi8d f* forgo^— n ! d 1 Woul stir n no hafBuy e sk tihat'swe%t " lipl' } ' ' ^l^^ wcrfk» j . no,tt 4,i i Which gleamed upon *h» tonfatf fity " tf It was ajattl%,tepple, gray, laveln ow y ITA£Vna f O !' '• * !! H tll fs ?*f With hal s pillarit f s woijn away, •<*» 'Tis long slfldro^o N fI ehav lefte, breathe4>«fcyprfss-fcme cpn d «nf ! d ' , * 4tf, Which, filled with 6d6urs*flea(fedftH^e^1 FHngiiigfitsJjr^WJhesiaonpnf^iy-' ^ * Sometime Ween si pgata anciei u I e sweep'^ 4ay8s &$'"»<, this »,wa «! J ^shjrina e , -• , Rich with tb^toseahtttnyrtle^-iiglh—' ' For go4dj?ss or for nymph, divine, , ., , s)l 10 flf And 'Tis 10Bt'sln%e 1 hate seen* ttid vltttf -' * somptwnef 1 Hve drpamed I h^d «t With Autumn' steA sp Itd^a ^ as za ^v^r' ^ttste^rs*syae;s * • word« -« ^,< / ' 1 watched Aa d thl MerBftughd An pe^mi, %#ftftfehe|.tedttdiiiga t p , JQ, MH- t^f, tak ^ d hearAn d the'vifciag^fecfogs ascendhrg * V And^ftHr,(ii,*li94pW4jli^wfi«f' j » »» o t 264 THE PAINTER'S LOV'K. rilli I'AINTKrt'S LOVK. &65 Dim, sad as if it came to sigh > "fis past, 'tis past, my happiness O'er thoughts thingsd an ,tim d au ,e passe ! dby purd passionlessd Wato ean l sal ! I waked from calm e templ arisidth e df on e o pleasane n stooO d t dreams A deep and solitary wood, > To watch the morning's earliest gleams, Where ehesimts reared their giant length, Wandering with light feet 'mi dewe dth , And mucke fallee dth n columns' strength; cheeTily El l k caugh s rosit t y hue; whed lone An nth eupross wood-pigeon' wa bright-ee t eth I moonI y s ,home, And flocks of them would ofttimes come, I sorrowed day was done so soon; And, lighting on the temple, pour Save that 1 loved the sweet starlight, A cooing dirge to days no more! ,. The soft, the happy sleep of night! And by its side there was a lake With only snow-white swans to broalc, * Time -has changed since, and I hare wept With ebon feet and silver wing, The day away; and when 1 slept, seepiny M g eye squiee eeaseTh tt thei watersdno r tears' glittering; . And when sometimes, as eve closed ia, And jealousies, griefs, hopes, and fears, I waked my lonely mandolin, Even in slumber held their reign, The gentle birds came glidjng near, And gnawed my Mart, aiM racked my brain! f thei s yA loved that son hearo gt . gflg >mK. I'AINTKH'S LOVE. Tilt I'AlNYBIl's l.WVfv. W Oh much,—most wittering 'ti feeo st l That temple** root Bttt what though1 t houre Th s aughf likO e tguilt likey evicreaturel angarys steal! . To wish the weary day was past, I only felt his burning sighs, I only looked hav o wittitt An t eeyess dye Be hi O , hop t lastea ! All's in that curse, aught else above, I saw no dooming star above, That fell on me—betrayed lote! There is such happiness in low! J left, with himnativy na , e shore, There was a stranger sooght our toad, Not «s a bride who passes o'er A "ou4h, who witb % painter's baud. Her father's threshold with bis blessing, Traced mir,sw^et valleys aad our vines, With flowers strewn and friends ewewrog, The moonlight on tho ruined «hrines, Kind words, and purest topes to cheer basafulaese Th s of maide thed f broan nu th Au pearf w fewo dno l; I fle s culpritda I— t Bu s fly, blacd An k e peasan eyeth f so t girJ> : nighty B , watche« ey e d onl ©n loved—ah d y yan b t me e !W evew nno My pulse throbs to recall that, vow . Whose look was all the world to me, Our first kiss sealed, we stood beneath And it Met mine so tenderly, The cypreast-tflje'e fuuereal wreath, I thought not of the days to come, I thought not of ray own sweet home, This wish is vaiti, niy grave must be Nor of inixie aged father’s sorro\tv,- Far distant from niy own coilxitry! Wild love takcs 110 thought for to-morrow. I must rcst 1icrc.-011 lay me then I lcft niy home, and I was left 13y thc whitc cliurcli in youdcr glen ; A straxigcr iu his land, bereft Amid thc ciarkcrririg elm, it seems, Of CVC~hopc; there was not onc Thus silvered ovcr by the bcains Fawiliar face to look up011.- Of tlic pale 1110o11, R wry shrine Their siwccli was strange. ‘Phis penalty I7or wounded hearts-it sliall be miiic! Was niect : but srircly not from tlice, Tllcrc is oiic coriicr, grecri and lone, False lovo!-’twas xiot for tlicc to break A dark yew ovcr it 11~sthrowxi Tlic heart but sullied for thy sake!- Long, night-like boriglis ; ’tis tliiclily set 115th piinruse and with violet. I could haw wislicd oiicc inorc to see Their bloom’s IIOW past; but in tlie spring Thy green hills, loveliest ITALY! Tlicy will bc swcct and glistening. I could have ivished yet to Iiavc hung Tlierc is a bird, too, of xour clinic, Upon tlie music of tlip tongue; That sings tliere iu the winter tinie; I could hah n-isllcd thy flowers to %loom- Thy cypress plantcd by my tomb! §70 THE PAINTER'S LOVE. My funeral hymn his song will be, Which there are none to chant, save he. I !NZ "E An t therdle memoria e eb l none, namo N e upo cole nth d white stone: The only heart where I woold he Aias! that clouds should ever steal O'er Love's delicious sky; Remembered ! deaw me no o dt s i , That ever Love'* swee shoulp tu d dfe gentlese Aughth t bu t t sigh! I woul t evedno n havweem ehi p Love is a pearl of purest hue, ItaliaO'es hi r n love's last rfeep, ^KZ££?' "' houe Th r that firstouuce sh t ! it l i Oh, tears are a most worthless token. When hearts they would have soothed are broken' ' E lipsTH that breathe f • d thi s • Not even sighs could quite dispel; eyed f thaAn so t dark azure light / , , See ndeee onlth pt ya midnight ; 272 INEZ. , ' INEZ. 273 A cheek, whose crimson hues seemed caught \»: * ' Thertime—a s ewa a tim bliss,f eo — Fro firse mth t tin Apriy b t l brought When to have met his INEZ' kiss, To the peach-bud; and cloud," Jl* deep-blur t loohe bu n ki o T e eye, Over a brow of blue-veined pearl, s L o ^eathT sweer ai e t. j € th wit* sigh r hhe . f, . i ' Falling like sunlight, shadjuse on t e . •• , \~ } Youag JOAN would have urge stees dhi d Of chesout on its goldeT n braid. « „ -' / * -1 With the lightning of a lover's speed,— Is she not all too fair to weep! ^ ^* * * ! 8 e Those young eyes shoul ", " -i *» closee V **'•d b *- . sleep Q dI , ^^ ^ •hfW Mw„.,%•*•*•• shesingle don e tear, ' » ,» ? ^ , i.% , s ^,» ?k courteHd eha d danger smiled an , t fearda ; Dreaming those dreams the »OOB%M fangs, v %* *t^.,p'.i *«*> , - * „ , , .»'£,?, 4 -. i=r •" But he had parted in high disdain, When the dew fells and the wghtinfate sings: **u* %**,! f, ;:, B Dreams of a word, of *!<**;* <^ ' ^ ^ « from-his heart the chain Till the cheek burns *4 the *^ P8 *°° % ^*o t , 5 3 Bu„ t INE, Z sits amd. weep s m»'v^iM*^- h«r W^a*, - - * Hol7y aad^Ke *i%n Jter constancy4. , J . gleae Palth ms ea en fee F^ntent i A , . And counting the * ., For his return, who reWmVio^et-^ ' Of gentk 4?|f| sh^d ,yer ^ The meteor spells of vanity! T g74 1NEZS. INKS. 275 Her world should be of love alone, The dance seemed sad, and the festival dim, Of one fond heart, and only one. If her hand was unclaimed by him? For heartless flattery, and sighs Waked she her lute, if it breathed aot his name? And looks false as the rainbow's dyes, Lay she in dreams, but seme thought of him came? flowerso N smileso n , vere Ar ,y werworthless life'n eo thasd dultAn mor.l tiden , d JUAHa N fro s INEmhi * borne INEZs hi Whe y ' b side t n no JUA. s Nwa t theye y d partedAn ! l woman'StilAl l thers prettinese cling; scornf se o ; Had watched for her averted ©ye An earth-stain to the fairest things; loved An , tha tvain,—han I most delicioud see snrivaa giflt nigh smiled An d upon wildle h : y swore Upon life's shrin sorrof eo w left, looo T thn kmoreo eo n fals e , eon sharn suffering.f ow Haeo s sit * thuo sWh could trifleshadA ,e thufallss coulfro s radianmit d breat kwing , A fond heart for the triumph's sake.—• A spot steals o'er its sunny brow, lovee sh An dt him,—ohdye wellw !ho , Fade rose-lip'e sth s witching glow. Let woman's own fond spirit tell. 'Tis well,—for earth were too like heaven, Whe warriore f lengtntheith n I i t rliff hlovo o sme higet eh wer careere given, . 2 T r hearWenhe t t alonno t g wit spear's hhi ? 276 INEZ. 1NEZ' ^7 chcsnue lefs lane th th limha f td d o e an te H Ther slighe spel e on mors e i th f t o lgazen ei , cedaFoe rth r and rose o southerfa n clime, Tha "e lo th »dcst Plaudit crowe h s* d ca» raise- * & * *^MW>*,„ j e ivMnr. , , . i , . T soldiea Wit_ d han a pilgri ttrana r$ w vo m s , Tak geme e th glory' n si s coronal, * Hole ware th figho th f y T „,„,,so n bandI t . , , * ,i,A o-^i«.To»»^ And one smile of beauty is worth them all. No colours are placed on his helm beside, t l™o " 1s ? wa 1 e uiteH '-ashade No lady'' s scar necs fkhi o'e irs tied, A dark plume alone does young JOAN wear- A dream, a fancy, round him played; » i ** *• +i *!,« , * Loo-^inm k owher wme IIwarriorP s areSometime thickest e twilighth t ,s a thalow,t thour plum, e win oe » heare H dvoica e like that whose power there. Bu witt o wha fams d h o onet ha t e Wa ln ™so heart: Jt sai'g 8traia u ^Tiose light and tope of fame are gone 1 Of those whose love was fond, yet vain: Oh, fame is as the moon above, Sweet like a dreams-yet none might say Whoslighf o lifd - s loven ei tan esu ; voicee Whosth r s whoso , ewa laye .eth There is more Itt the smile of one gentle eye And once, when worn with toil and care, Than the thousand pages of history; ' All that the soldier has to bear, 8 27 INEZ. INKS. 279 With non sootho et nond ean bleso et s Deadt bees fighe yha nth t to-day; infidele th w sno givt eBu way, s hou Hi sicklf o r y loneliness, When, waked to consciousness again, And cimetar aiid turbaned band The fire gone from Ms heart and brain, Scatter before th« foeman'a hand; reare th coul,e n i wit H d dh An remembeswor spurd dan , r some fair thing Around his pillow hovering-, Follows the Christian conqueror. dare on k f whitd chieO An ef " armride whosn si firs allf eo t —clas slepe ph t 5 Of young blue eyes that o'er him wept; A warrior at his festival— How , parchee whebrod th an n wno p dU Chasin s preyghi , till non neae ear r single th d e ai soldier' o T s spear fever'd Burnre ,e sth t hottest glow, Some one had brought dew of the spring, Save one sl|ght boy. Of those who flew, With woman' kinn sdow solacing • . Three turn combae *th renewo t : heard Anha dvoicee a dh , whose thrill The fielde yth t deatflyn o -bu , s hi Was bosoechoes hi my db still. That Page's breast was JUAN'S shield. t hers—ino s wa t t coulI T>t ed bu H wherey shade e bo th bor e n ei ,e th A dream, the fever's fantasie. ... of tfte grfle« palm* » fountain made ^0 INEZ. INEZ. 281 Us pleasant music; teuderly " This is what I have grayed might be— He laid his head upon his knee, v ? " Has death not sealed my truth to thee?" . . . fro d dentee mth An d helm unrolled blood-stainee Th eyjjfeTSA ds curlspring summef so yondey sb r geld.r grave. , Knew he not then those deep-blue eyes, - * And niusic from the fountain wave That lip of rose, and smiles^ a»4 sighs?* •** Sings its* low dirge to the pale rose s INEZ!—h«|!—coulHi d thi her,e sb , — That, near loneln ,i y beauty blows. Thus for his sake a wanderer !i-r ? ? Two lovers «Ieep beneath. Oh, sweet, He spoke nofr-rmoved nofr^-bA^ s»te*hw,,* J5v*a'in the grave, it is to meet; t atatuA s colhi dn ei despair, >n i > ,-t", / r Sweet eve e death-coucnth f stoneho , l Watchin p and.f&eejli e gth ? deeayK < v *-'T When shared 'With* some beloved dn*e; sweeted An r tha s thfadee A e»Hf silend life't sres lap' ^waye t hu t" >> • < t , r JITAN'f INEhe O t y sweeWhilZot la S e breastte sh a« d .fnotiejaless i % ! / * , * s onlA y faint with happiness. At length she spoke, in that sweet tone j Woma lovd nan e hav r theiefo r own: 3 28 THE OAK. r lonhe e d dwellingHa , payinr homhe r egfo With melancholy songs; and scarce a beech thers eWa withou honeysuckla t E OAKeTH linked. Around, with its red tendrils and pink flowers; girdler brieO m,ihQa T y I db r rose las . ,t.. whossurfiva raca e f budeo r s Stron then gi k fore$t-»pride whejt I.waS; young- Yield fragrant harveshoney-beee th r fo t . I can remember when^ foK plies around, There dwelt the last red deer, those antlered kings. . . In plac thosf eo e paoot kdream,—tha meadow s t thia s sBu i corn-fieldsd san e ploug passes , hha d There stood ten .thousand tall wd stately trees, Where the stag bounded, and the day has looked Such as had brayed, the winds of March, the b®H On the green twilight of tne, forest-trees. Sent by the summer lightning, and the snow This oak has no compnion! ... Heapin weekr gfo s their boughs, Even,i depte nth h t Jul Ogladee ho fy th s 5were co&l; the grass, Yello parched wan d elsewhere, grew lonfreshd gan , Shading wild strawberrie violetsd san , Or the lark's nest; and overhead the dove 5 28 THE VIOLET. t nevei sweetes t wa rBu r than whet nse •!) With leavedeep-blue th f so e violet! whed e graVAn nth e shal.THJl opeE nVIOLET tor me,• — - soow n ho I car that eno t be,—timy ema • j VIOLETS!-^eep-b!ue yiolets! y Neve rosa r e shall gro that-tombn wo n ; f April's Iqveliist coronets ! • > n n It breathes too much of hope a'M of blobmjf ; There are;aofl«wjers-grow in the fvaleiiu a But there be that flower?sme4k^regret, o > JT Kissed by tbe dew,-woof A by theigale^^ 11 The bending and deep-blue violet! ? «i/I e twilighth f o w t wetde e ,Non th y eb - " ' ; s> •" {< >« '^ / '-i'-—' ^ml--^> . ^riJ -». j^^w e o sweedeep-bluS th s - a tv d e violet! remembeo d I sweew ho r a breatt h ujivntr^ j^rf,-- V^M- y:,ui;«Hsi;;-? v>iI > ( Came with the azure light of a wreath ] , o / » ; ; ; : ;« :,]' /un? *os« 3 That hung round the wild harp's golden chords, n «n a-Al.^ f u ; I fi, » -j t u « > yina! i^ri Which dark-eyey ranm o gt d lover's words. >bio-i/ b ?•.,/-;. jvu^-vfeij tut o-> jjjssi'i &H^t . I have seeloiion thai t*fwf deaj r ^?*ihar; pj«rt rollei a;:^d s 'yi-g.d * With gems of the East and bands of gold; ; M^~ *<> ef-ta,! f,H6 ,f,f'£c! ufir w :;;«3a -.i.'/Vf CHANGE. 287 Bounded their wishesf evei r r O cam. e A though futurf o t e daysy sa , o 'twat t sbu „ ^ ^, That they would share each other'o sd lotd an , CHANGE. Wonders, no doubt. But this was vain: fliey parted With promises of long remembrance, words AN» this is what is left of youth! , »,. « Whose kindness was the heart's, and those warm tears, There were two boys, who wete bped up together, Hidden like shame by the young eyes which shed them, Shared the WHJ bed,, and fed.ft $M same board; But which are thought upon in after-years Bach trM> the oth«r'§ sport, from their first chace, As what we They met with cold words, and yet colder looks: * -. 4 > < Eac changes hwa himselfn di , apt eacdye h thought »> >s^ »> «l ' The other only changed, himself the same. fflE OBEY CROSS. And coldness hred dislike, aod rivalry *, * Came like the pestilent o'er some street theagMs A ««*,**»» ftpd* breath yon old beeeh treej That lingered yet, health markt t y S Amid dark and uttkmdly ones. And they, Around it %%ifi^ of orange-trees, Whose boyhooknowt no d n donha e jarring word. Witl» «* !**• ***» «ndt Were stranger thein si r age tf ;i o eyes inet, s %^«%who!twa saveme h d from death, loo'Twao t t k contemptsbu wted an a, they spoke, Rai8<*J %l W«X« the pliant Englishman. Their speec wormwoods hwa ! .... *^" lefe tH hom yowea ^ sojdier... this,d foihopf ,An o lthi e. life s si ! And enterprise;—h s firse hi fel t n i lfield ! There cam elovela y pilgri tombs hi mo t , The blue-eyed girl, bis own betrothed bride,— Pale, delicate,—one looking as the gale v * GKEVE TH * CROSS. 390 That bowed the rose could sweep her from the earth. Yet she had left her home, where every look Had been watched, oh, so tenderly!—and miles, Long weary miles, had wandered. When she came the.dio T m shado agee th df w o beech , CRESCENTIUS. She was worn to a shadow; colourless cheee LOOKE1 Th kmountain-rosen oncDow upoer brow,—ns dyehe nhi y db . o sign Sh „ reached the grave, and died upon the sod! Of guilt or fear was there; They laid her by her lover:—and her tale He stood as proud by that death-shrine Is often on the songs that the guitar As even o'er Despair e ey powera s d hi ha n i ;e H Echoe lime th e n svalleyi Castilef so ! There was a quenchless energy, A spirit that could dare deadliese Th t form that Death could take, Andaring'e th d r darfo st e i sake . u2 292 CRESCENTirs. CRBSCENTI0S. 293 n shonsu e e Th °a Ma sparklinHe stoodg hand, mailfetters e hi th , n ,—so He raised them haughtily; Aud dailced his snow-plume on the gale. Anthad dha t gras pbrande beeth n no . stooe h d w chaineno alonet d Bu dan , t coulI wavt hign dno e o h With freer pride than it wared now. beadsman by his side, The Around he looked with changeless brdw P^nae, the helm, the charger, gone; The On many a tortore nigh: The sword which haddcfie d The rack, the chain, the axe, the Wheel, The mightiest, lay broken near; r souno n t »e °y % ds °d ? An fear And, wors allowf s steelo td ,hi nre . Came from pridef o tha p li t; neved An r kin r conqueror'go sonc m brohi e w beforew sa I rode h ; e e Upo coal-blacna k steed, higheWor r loo nowd k . di tha s nhi tend thousandf so An s thronge roae dth d And bade their .warrior speed. He bcnt beneath the beadsman's stroke His helm, his breast-plate, were of gold, With au uncovered eye; th em fro t shou d wil And gravenumberd wits brokAh mane denya t that told die m o th.hi ronge Wh e se o dt Of man soldier'ya ' s deed; 2£M CRBSCEttTIUg. It was & people's loud acclaim, The voice of anger and of shame, A nation's funeral cry, ON A STAR. Home's wail abov r onlehe y son, Her patriot and ter latest one. BEAUTIFUL star that art wandering through midnighe Th t ocean's wave bluef so ! I have watched sinc firsy eth t paly era farewele Rosth n eo summer'f o l s day,— From thy first sweet shine on the twilight hour, To thy present blaze of beauty and power! Woul dcoulI d rea destinyy dm , Lovel glorioud yan s star theen i , ! Yet why should I wish?—I know too well Wha tabley th t lighf o t t would tell! What ! whaoh , t coul dI rea d there, depthe th t Love'f so Bu s despair,— oo<; STARA N O . •*tn> Blighted feelings, like leaves that fall ;, The first from April's coronal,— , , s,, K Hopes like meteors «hMfshin departd ean — ; i ^- sJ }HOMOB.: An early gravebrokea d an , n heart! n>r \>.d <>»<;•/ nMiC ,, -4 >.,^7.r—: Kiifctf f A! TH,:-o ? I LEFT my home;—'twas in a.little vale, : .rv;-,'; 7;'-" " InJ^ite^hal lad^l m fishers f O s hew^l, aMf&tt, ,.,,f nridartojne ,jsliade;e t th y db ' %^^br^d never tiOnk ^ite-in - - ; u The willows tuftg, when to thrsduthern;wiiid 4 %«prin^ sunshine o^supinB^jhottisJ^- ; , ^ They threw<'th»f long greeii tresses. On'the slope Bu| whenjp a,Jo^elygj»yfe se i e ,{, iy{, ,^/ Were g vr esixd^itecottageso , whose roof! .•;..;.. v- ^^^^ * broken .hegrt itoighfe bei«-i,-i i; ? Reached not4rttf laburnum's' height, whose boughs 1 r i;?• W%-^'W' W W«e teitf «M^J Wv(! JI • M Shook over then* bright shower goldeablof so W Th^^nA$MS» PJfeHTOfif^ &*MI \rri Sweet silende' reigiK» around :^-no other sound : : -.]>•;!•! i;i';-»q';' ! -»•?,' ;'."!!,;!> n.t- yun, ? Game oil-the air, than when the shepherd made . "•.<" s<'•. - ? ,l*:-ju}a e reed-pipTh » f!:v;-»re rudel; ;i Fro e wilmth d birds childrer o , thein ni r play Sending forth shouts or laughter. Strangers came Rarely or never near thelonely place. ... THE EMERALD RING. I went into far countries. Years past by, A SUPERSTITION, But still that val silenn ei t beauty dwelt whicm ge h a hat s poweWithie i Kth T I memoryshoo y t rn tn w . Hom ecttmI t lastea . I stood upo nmountaia plightef I n heightd lover, san keed lookep theid: r faitno r ho Into tfie vale belew; and smoke arose,4 If faithful, it is like the leaves of spring; And heav f faithlessI y sottnds ,throug d likan je thosh tine r e loave ai thic m ksdi when withering* Shot blackened turrets, and brick walls, and roofs Take back again your emerald gem, Of the red tile. I entered in the streets: There is no colour in the stone; Thert mighI et werhav thousann ete e graced ddiademtarryina frod an ; ,o gt And masted vessels stood upon the rive*, But now its hue and light are gone! And barges sullied the once dew-«$lear stream. Take back your gift, and give me mine— Where were the willows, where the edttagesl The kiss that sealed our last love-vow; soughI liemey tm I sough? found tan eity,da — Ati, other lips have bee thine,n no — Alas! for the green valteyS My kiss is lost and sullied now! EMEKALE TH D RING. 0 30 pales i kise Thm th ,s e ge forgot , And, more than either, you are changed; But my true love has altered not, LOVE. My heart is broken—not estranged! SHE prest her slight hand to her brow, or pain Or bitter thoughts were passing there. The room Had no light but thaf from the fireside, Which showed, then hid her face. How very pale It looked, when over it the glimmer shone! Is not the rose companion of the spring? Then wherefor red-leavee th s eha d flower forgotten Her cheek! The tears stood in her large dark eyes— Her beautiful dark eyes—like hyacinth stars, When shines their shadowy glory througw de e hth That summer nights have wept:—she felt them not, awayr r fragilfa r hear s He He ! wa et form, Like the young willow when for the first time 302 LOVE. The wind sweeps o'er it rudely, had not lost Its own peculiar grace; but it was bowed By sickness, or by worse than sickness—-sorrowS LOVE, HOPE, AND BEAUTY. shouly thid wh s lovdsi ! An womaeOh S n love; Wastin r dearesghe t feelings healthU ti , , hope, **»** «»ay be increase fearsy db , fannee b y d Ma witHappinessh sighs t tMubu ,whice f po ar , h henceforth She '11 only know the name! Her heart Is seared: Nurst by fancies, fed by doubts i A sweet light has been thrown Upon its life, Bat without Hope it dies! thIndian r i efa s A n isles mako T darkness eit more sth e terrible. And this is Love I ' Dies the young cocoa-tree, * • Unless within the pleasant shade Of the parent plant it be: So Lovspriny t firsta ema p gu , Lighteti at Beauty's eyes;— But Beauty is not all its life, For without Hope it dies. THE CRUSADER. 305 s goldeHi n a deepe hai s rha r brown * , i s brohi wd haAn s caugh darkea t r! frown1 > , Us phi hatMosfritd An E CEUSA&BRTH s boyisi red,U. «•,-• •: >•' And the shade of the south o'er his cheek is spread; HE is come from the land of the. swoid «id •*£*>> But stirfely bis step* and his bearing high, From the sainted battles of Bilestt^j , t And wild the light of Ms fiery eye; snoe Th w plumes wav proud e o?$ tfcfAn dm rr MHst& s?i§4oT wer maidee ejth «*•{, t . n Uke a «kfy the red cross hsjgs ftt M$ breast 14 Who might «l*ia the Knigh* of the Cross for her joiighfc His courser is black as Week «saa b% - . But he rides for the home he has pined to see Sa?e the brow star white as the foam of the^sea* In ttte court, ia the camp, in captivity. And he wears a scarf of 'broidery rare, lase reachee H Th t love-giffcod th el&ds castle,—^thbi fy • &»*,* »• -: e ^tthrows ewa n It bore for dewee-a cross aad-avdftire^ •*<« 4iM Open and wide, but he stood there alone; And the words, " I a»?owed to my God miM aay.iwei" He catered Hue door,—-his own step was all He comes not back-thc same that he went,? •• That echoed within the deserted hall; Foswors hi rb^es stooe dha nH th strengtn s dtried o eancien e hi rooth d bees f ;an fo hha n t tower, spdttt^i j~* '' •«'?*•. And for banner there waved one pale wall-flower, x 7 30 E CKlrSADERTH . CBUSADBRE TH , 8Q0 An trumpesoune r dth fo f sound Came the scream of the owl oa the night-waul borne; WIiefe ,hy fether, his brothers, his kinsmen were slain; An turrete dth s were felli«g vassale Tth s were,fl«wn, They lowlye efcow&th m gravehi l , where slept And the bat rated the halls he had though. t big own. ^^ ft, kept d hft y trul o s e h f scar e m Th hos aid< His heart throbbed high: oh^neve? J|gai»,K , ,. But they could not show him one living thing Migh soothe h t e with sweet thoughts hjs,sp|*it' whico witheres T shM paind! heart could cling. .. . He never might think on his boyish years TiE his eyes grew dim with thos^ s^eatwarm, , t$ars j^^ ^^^3f Palestine f e tb O Which Hop Memord ean y |0»e4^l*e b onen >Jhgjr.meet foe battle-linee firsth n i t . ; The kindred.wa fos gravt irt hi s no I glorf eo seeke y fieldli e t bM«ssa th , ^ :t • He stood alone, th0 l^st of hisrace, . >, \ por a blasted tree is upoa his shield, With the,ooki ttotWhe , th wid d e dweljing^il§ces An worlehi bearr dfo s is,««,1 fight fo grave:a r " The hoi»# of ;hiQ fatberf, gvm 4p tdecay^f-,,. , „ , He found it—that warrior has died with the brave'! , . t theibu l r memorAl passes ywa d away; sharewelcomeo o t t e e on on , o o n , N . , , e laureo morTh n s proue eh wa l o weardt : . , , u r , , . < « , r succeswa e s pride camth H hi s f n eo i -2 * x weeo t t p Bu over very desolateness. "" ' THE WARRIOR. 009 f I MTBW » The warrior past,—-but first he took •'"•:"' ^r:'':" je " j castle-wal'•"''<". ''•th •'•>'-•t A :-'*:•' e partin* ou l ;>iU g•/• look• , mTT i^ ^r i^ ^T»TU!T»J v h ' Aud tnou§nt of the evening whenbe tshould, bring iHJi W/A'JsJirLO'XL .H : - ; ',- : -\ : ; ; '• 'n;.«.-->i)A'4;tMif ;•.:,« yvbja .!! His ladyc his battle offering; i f^P'W?H, i r., ,, Then lik ethouga h he* ^shed o'e plaine rth , Ot ; V ? M '!;f;<" ^:'"^:<' •-» J>K'4"5 f>'^--i S"X^ •v>nif;K? flint b--\f And with, banner and brand came his'vassal train. THE warrior went forth in the morning light,— ? I ju s u iu .-.- ~:l'-"'i *w bH?;o>- i;/3»ilnr!.».« «RW i? it was a thrilling soand to hear Waved lik emeteoa s plumhi r whitef eo , / > , . ,, >;j?r i « . ; : Tf''"'f-;-J rti'^w '•-• ?.7ft--?(r3':>- fiv>is?' She went to her bower to weep alone. , m ,i;; • w ^ . ^ H^ 310 UHfi .WARRIOR.' vm WARMOfc. 911 victore Th earninge archee sar Th rtowee ;lie th an sy r db lik arrownspentn ea , EDETId Ha I s shaft Watche bows midnighe Hi l hi loos th ,al sd r unbentedan fo t how. . t „? . * / , < Man ya whit e plume tor d rednan , Bright curls rent from thefraceiW head,> „« Oh, thai lone sickness of the heart, - % Helmet and breast-plate scattered around, , Which bid^ the weary moments depart,< * U^ a feaefiil show on the well-fought ground ;> Yet f And wreaths of white flowers the maidens Jwiue; §j r distanFo faind aa thears i t swele dth l8 Whe talkee nh d EBIMs tohi victorf Eo y1 Of bugle voiced san s from yonder dell,— , , WARRIORE TH . "12 Yet, maiden, weep o'er thy loneliness. , Is not yon dark horse riderless 1 . , « gate,?—she fleth e o wt Sh e stood there alone,— 't»'/\T r*n rrw vr^ * f APOIiOGUE: flownd ha meeo t r lo he t wh e Wherh s ewa '•,,•.-, i ,* , e dirgTh e greWplai the'tttts na y ^inelieaiv^- THf ,T«QWC|HT waGESTE SPANISA Y PB H SAYINC?, They bea younge th r chieftain cold-o biers nhi ! «AIR^MRIWWATBR^HAM&" i WATER. '•>{'«''.»<»- e Arath bn i maid'e SEEm r sK fo bower , * * *r ' ' •'.<•*- \* Where the fountain plays over the jasmine flower; , '» lighe th tn i cascad e Seem r kefo - «, 4t t,.tji{», , i , ' The minstre le greenwoo listth n si d shade; •sit jj? - " /s>t t morSeea e km n 'mi e violet'dth s dyes; ' ' J ! '»•* '> i i where Seem cloud e r eth k fo dark e sar , * Fmjs Where the billows foam round the sinking bark; * Seek for me where the war-shots meet, Where the aspen-leaf floats on the summer's gale, Where the soldier's cloak is his winding-sheet; Where the rose bends low at the nightingale's tale; Seek for me where the lava wave Where the wind-harp wakens in melody, Bursts from Etna's secret care; If we should sever, there seek for me. Seek for me where Christmas mirth SHAME. Brightens the circle of love round your hearth; Where meteor-flames glance, where the stars are bright; Seek not me, if we should sever ; Wher beacoe eth n flashe t thsa e dead midnight; Parted once pare w ,* for ever. Where the lightning scathes the tall oak-tree, shoule Iw f d sever, ther. e me see r kfo l» AIR. Seek for me where the Spanish maid Hearkens at eve to the serenade; 4, BALLADS. SOLDIER'E TH S GRAVE. THERE 's a white stone placed upon yonder tomb, Beneat soldiea s hi r lying: e deatTh h wound came amid swor plumed dan , When banner and ball were flying. sleepse breasts h hi turw e n th ,no o f ,t Ye By wet wild flowers surrounded; The church shadow falls o'er his place of rest, Where the steps of his childhood bounded. There were tears that fell from manly eyes, Ther woman's ewa s geutler weeping, And the wailing of age and infant cries, O'er the grave where he lies sleeping. SOLDIER'E TH S GRAVE .0 38 THE SOLDLBK'S GRAVE. 321 spoke H f yiolti elefhorns « d hi t ha M B e sI f »»*•spofeH spirit' se»eei?;-*f epride« , - Wit father's hM s swor blessingd dan . ; These are words tha vainle ar t y spoken chiWtee th stooe o H T ®d helmeA d swor ts« .engrave e dar stonee th n dearae ,o H e famt s againligh e - hi th f ,o ta i , When the red campaign was avert Half hidden by yonder willow; j One heart thafc in secret had kept his name, Thereat Atps, whose death in ba^le was won,. Was claimed by the soldier lover. But who died en his own home-pillow! But the cloud of strife came upon the sky; ' He left his sweet home for battle; An youns dhi g child' loae s th d lisr war-crypfo , ' '^: An cannon'e dth s long death-rattle. • - * ~ e camH e again,—bu alteren a t d man: e grave patth s befor Th f heo wa e him, .«.-,> „ , ,i ,, % J « , ^ " tl * **'• " e smUth d e thaAn wore h ts col d wanewa dan , e shadoth r deatf wo Fo h hang o'er him. -* ' •»-«.,t,- v s , HUNTER'E TH SON F GO S BRIDE. "23 Three times I thus have watched the snow Grow crimson with the stain HUNTER'E SONTH F GO S BHIDE. = t '^Q fiettia n thre«su w °' ee rockr th ' An dI hav e watche vaiun di . ANOTHER day—another day, I love to see the graceful bow comee h An t night sdnp ye ; Across his shoulder slung,— I look amid the dim blue hills, goldee th e nI lovse horo et n t nothinYe g meets mine eye. Besid baldris eM c hung. I hear the rush of mountain-streams lovI dars ehi k hounds I lov d ean , Upo echoee nth s borne; falcon's Hi s sweeping flight; I hea singine birdse th r th f g,o I love to see his manly cheek hunter'y m t no s t hornBu . With mountain-colours bright. The eagle sails in darkness past, waitee 'v I d patientlyw no t bu , The watchful qhamois bounds; 1 Would tha chase th t e were o'er; t whaBu I loot comer k fo t near, sno — lov e huntee h Weleth y toilrs ma l , ULRIC'y M S haw houndsd kan . shoule h t dBu lov moree em . «•** SONG OF THE HUNT£R*S BRIDE. Why stay thus!—he sh e woul here db e If his love equalled mine;— , Jletitytks had I one fond caged dove, }<, WHEN SHOULD LOVERS BREATHE I would not let it pine. - THEIR VOWS ? But, hark! wha those ar t e ringing steps WHEN should lovers breathe their vows? That up the valley come ? When should ladies hear them? I see his hounds,—I see himself,— When the dew is on the boughs, ULRICy M , welcome home! When none elsneae ear r them; Whe mooe nth n shines colpaled dan , Whe birde nsleepinge th sar , When no voice is on the gale, When the rose is weeping; When the stars are bright on high, Like hopes in young Love's dreaming, And glancing round the light clouds fly, < . i • Like soft fears to shade their beaming. 326 WHEN SHOULD LOVERS BREATHE THEIR VOWS? The fairest smiles are those that live broe th starlighy wb n O t wreathing; An lipe dth s their richest incense give When the sigh is at midnight breathing. Oil, softescheek'e th s i t s love-ray When seen by moonlight hours, Other roses seek the day, But blushes are night-flowers. Oh, when the moon and stars are bright, Whe dew-drope nth s glisten, Then their vows should lovers plight, Then should ladies listen! E ENDTH . A' LONDOK: PSINTED BY T" Alm '• B' F«^-", 8, NOETH-STREBP, W»«,H. * « We specialize in creating and publishing medieval manuscripts, rare books and pamphlets of the 16th - early 20th Centuries in electronic media. We include the following subjects: mysticism, religion and theology, women’s studies, social history, politics, psychoanalysis and psychology, English, French and German literature. BELSER WISSENSCHAFTLICHER DIENST Ltd. Garranlahan, Ballinlough County Roscommon IRELAND email: [email protected] http://www.belser.com*^- Breathed.itt thedarfceyed beauty's eaT „ s B e Spell-be«ad whet y ^?ba nclos«d^ I W««« elove-touche lttyf ^ d cavalier? As if the charm ceased with tto soagi ' ' 's Or mixed ** th»es sw»e »»* «•«« Vfr He darted hurriedl f ydanceO away r lau'o /S n **• « <»»««%l "ll*» M l • . I masqued again, an* wandered o^ « • .'^ Oh, it is sic^n^to the heart Through man gaya y .an da bew4a^velrT gttgeftWittfii parts yit i ?^, r