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'Twas but a day-but then that day 'Twas fond pretence ! to us in vain, Was lit by June's long jocund ray; Far Ormond spread its broad domain, When bright and happy She and I, And lured our gaze with sparkling On soaring Comrah's summit high,

flood, Strayed from the throng 'mid heather And castled cliff and giant wood. flowers,

Vainly the distant Barrow rolled Where Fête-champêtre sped the hours, His course, a coil of slender gold, And sought that mountain's mightiest Or Nore's blue waters danced and height

played From whence, we said, our ardent Round Woodstock's banks and beecheyes

en glade. Might best drink in the green delight Ah, there no more the wild harp swells

That in that matchless landscape lies, That shook those violet-breathing dells,

* * These verses, written about his sixteenth year, have been sent us by our old friend, a late Physician, who informs us that they have not hitherto appeared in print. How could he doubt whether we would "oblige him by inserting them ? " C. N.

And shed a deathless spell along Was blushing cheek, and bended eye, Each grove's sweet gloom in Psyche's And heath-flower plucked all hastily, song!

Which well, she said, might emblem be In vain Barnane, the thunder-riven, Of fickle Bard's inconstancy, Far northward cleft the summer A truant tribe and light of faith, heaven,

Whose very life's essential bloom Or on the horizon stretched away, Was fed by woman's fragrant breath, A streak of light, slept Youghal bay. It mattered not of whom ; Wegazed but once, and gazing turned, And much she feared the freshening Filled with the love that round us gale burned,

Would hardly rustle in the sail And spoke as speechless glances speak Which bears her hence when I, who The thoughts that kindle lip and cheek; now And that bright lady fair, with face Low at her feet devoted bow, All pale, and darkly-glancing grace, Would, in the self-same spot so dear, Cast to the gladdened earth her eyes, Pour the same tale to other ear.

And, faltering, took the purple seat Boon Nature to her child supplies,

IV. Whilst I sat duteous at her feet. Fast died the day-on Galty Peak

Fair Evening leant her rosy cheek, III.

And up that sky of bluest June We never met before, and knew Wheeled from the Deep the solemn

We never more should meet again'; moon, For seaward at that moment blew When gay companions thronging The breeze should bear her o'er the round main,

Proclaimed the fugitives were found, O'er half hoarse Ocean's sounding And festive mirth rushed in between, foam,

And all was as it ne'er had been. To light with love another's home, - We met no more-that revel past, And be to me, through years afar, Our first sweet meeting was the last. Lone memory's deeply mirrored star. And yet we talked not sadly there, But wished our barks of life had And years have gone—and Time has been

stolen Together wafted earlier, ere

Hope from the heart, light from the Dark Fate had heaved its gulf be eyetween.

And feelings then, all passion-swollen, And still I asked, in trembling tone, Now shrunk to arid darkness lie. Of him who claimed her as his own, And that long-lost regretted one And of those gorgeous Western skies, Is-Angel of the Rainbow-gone, Whose glory lingered in her eyes. And treads her path of woman's pain And when she murmured 'twas her In isles beyond the Western main.

How little deems the stranger who, In that far land, at fall of day, Amid the Carib's sparkling sea, Lulled by cool breeze and tinkling font, That pale and graceful One may view,

To sleep the sultry eve away, Shrined in her home tranquillity, I vowed, if minstrel spirit might That she who there so sheltered dwells

Spring from its earthly fetters free, In warm Bermuda's musky dells, That ever at that hour my sprite Once braved the breezes of the North,

Should in her bower attendant be, And, from their wild hills looking forth, And whisper mid the odours shed Had loitered through the summer day) By gathered roses round her head, With mountain-bard as wild as they > Or mix my memory with the wail In utmost Thulé far away. Of song from neighbouring nightin.

gale, Or babbling in the waters' fall, And still that dreaming Bard will think To her hushed ear my name recall. That, haply, on the silver brink And that sweet listener's sole reply Of that clear sea, at vesper hour,


* This beautiful spot was occasionally the residence of Mrs H. Tighe, the Author of Psyche,

When memory most exerts its power, How minutes stamp the strife of The lone fair muser there will raise

yearsAt times her melancholy gaze

How passion's gusts, the soul which To the dim West, and while its star

stir, Trembles, like lover's heart, afar, Leave to that ruffled worshipper Will ask if he, who at her side

Of all its stormy joy but tears. Sat, eager-browed and restless-eyed, One blessed day, now feels with her




O! MOURNFUL sequence of self-drunken days,
When jovial youth had range of Nature's store !
With fever-thirst for pleasure and for praise,
I nauseate every draught, and ask for more.

Look on me well, and early steep thy soul
In one pure Love, and it will last thee long ;
Fresh airs shall breathe while sweltering thunders roll,
And summer noons shall leave thee cool and strong.

Across the desert, 'mid thy thirsty kind,
Thy healthy heart shall move apace and calm,
Nor yearning trace the horizon far behind,
Where rests the fountain and the lonely palm.


I had a home, wherein the weariest feet
Found sure repose;
And Hope led on laborious day to meet
Delightful close!
A cottage with broad eaves and a thick vine,
A crystal stream
Whose mountain-language was the same as mine,
It was a dream!

I had a home to make the gloomiest heart
Alight with joy,
A temple of chaste love, a place apart
From Time's annoy :
A moonlight scene of life, where all things rude
And harsh did seem
With pity rounded and by grace subdued,—
It was a dream!


They owned their passion without shame or fear,
And every household duty counted less
Than that one spiritual bond, and men severe

Said, they should sorrow for their wilfulness.

3 F

And truth the world went ill with them ;-he knew
That he had broken up her maiden life,
Where only pleasures and affections grew,
And sowed it thick with labour pain and strife.

What her unpractised weakness was to her
The presence of her suffering was to him ;
Thus at Love's feast did Misery minister,
And fill their cups together to the brim.

They asked their kind for hope, but there was none,
Till Death came by and gave them that and more ;
Then men lamented,--but the earth rolls on,
And lovers love and perish as before.

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She had left all on earth for him, She watched the crimson sun's decline, Her home of wealth, her name of From some lone rock that fronts the pride,

sea,And now his lamp of love was dim, “I would, O burning heart of mine! And, sad to tell, she had not died. There were an ocean-rest for thee.

« The thoughtful moon awaits her turn,
The stars compose their choral crown,
But those soft lights can never burn,
Till once the fiery sun is down."



The marriage blessing on their brows, He, tranced in joy, the oar laid down, Across the Channel seas

And rose in careless pride, And lands of gay Garonne, they reach And swayed in cadence to the song The pleasant Pyrenees :

The boat from side to side : He into boyhood born again,

Then clasping hand in loving hand, A child of joy and life,

They danced a childish round, And she, a happy English girl, And felt as safe in that mid-lake A happier English wife.

As on the firmest ground.

8. They loiter not where Argelés, One poise too much !—He headlong The chestnut-crested plain,

fell, Unfolds its robe of green and gold She, stretching out to save In pasture grape and grain;

A feeble arm, was borne adown But on and up, where Nature's heart Within that glittering grave:Beats strong amid the hills,

One moment, and the gush went forth They pause, contented with the Of music-mingled laughter, .: wealth

Thestrugglingsplash and deathly shriek That either bosom fills.

Were there the instant after. 3.

9. There is a lake, a small round lake, Her weaker head above the flood, High on the mountain's breast,

That quick engulfed the strong, The child of rains and melted snows, Like some enchanted water-flower, The torrent's summer rest,

Waved pitifully long :--
A mirror where the veteran rocks Long seemed the low and lonely wail
May glass their peaks and scars, Athwart the tide to fade;
A nether sky where breezes break Alas! that there were some to hear,
The sunlight into stars.

But never one to aid.
Oh! gaily shone that little lake, Yet not alas ! if Heaven revered
And Nature, sternly fair,

The freshly-spoken vow,
Put on a sparkling countenance And willed that what was then made one
To greet that merry pair;

Should not be sundered now,-
How light from stone to stone theyleapt, If She was spared, by that sharp stroke,
How trippingly they ran ;

Love's most unnatural doom,
To scale the rock and gain the marge The future lorn and unconsoled,
Was all a moment's span!

The unavoided tomb !

11. " See, dearest, this primæval boat, But weep, ye very Rocks, for those, So quaint, and rough, I deem

Who, on their native shore,
Just such an one did Charon ply Await the letters of dear news,
Across the Stygian stream :

That sball arrive no more;
Step in, I will your Charon be, One letter from a stranger hand,
And you a Spirit bold,

Few words are all the need ;
I was a famous rower once

And then the funeral of the heart, In college days of old.

The course of useless speed ! 6.

12. • The clumsy oar! the laggard boat! The presence of the cold dead wood, How slow we move along,

The single mark and sign
The work is harder than I thought, Of all so loved and beautiful,
A song, my love, a song !”.

The handiwork divine !
Then, standing up, she carolled out The weary search for his fine form
So blythe and sweet a strain

That in the depth would linger, That the long-silent cliffs were glad And late success-Oh! leave the ring To peal it back again.

Upon that faithful finger.


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