Peace charmed the street beneath her feet,
And Honor charmed the air;

And all astir looked kind on her,

And called her good as fair ;-

For all God ever gave to her
She kept with chary care.

She kept with care her beauties rare
From lovers warm and true;

For her heart was cold to all but gold,
And the rich came not to woo :-
Ah, honored well are charms to sell,
If priests the selling do.

Now, walking there was one more fair

A slight girl, lily-pale;

And she had unseen company

To make the spirit quail :

'Twixt want and scorn she walked forlorn, And nothing could avail.

No mercy now can clear her brow

For this world's peace to pray;

For, as love's wild prayer dissolved in air,
Her woman's heart gave way!—

And the sin forgiven by Christ in heaven
By man is cursed alway!

NATHANIEL P. WILLIS.

L'

The Spectre Boat.

A BALLAD.

IGHT rued false Ferdinand to leave a lovely maid forlorn, Who broke her heart and died to hide her blushing cheek from scorn.

One night he dreamt he wooed her in their wonted bower of

love,

Where the flowers sprang thick arcund them, and the birds sang sweet above.

But the scene was swiftly changed into a churchyard's dismal

view,

And her lips grew black beneath his kiss from love's delicious

hue:

What more he dreamt, he told to none; but, shuddering, pale, and dumb,

Looked out upon the waves like one that knew his hour was

come.

'T was now the dead watch of the night—the helm was lashed

a-lee,

And the ship rode where Mount Etna lights the deep Levan

tine sea;

When beneath its glare a boat came, rowed by a woman in her shroud,

Who, with eyes that made our blood run cold, stood up and spoke aloud :

"Come, traitor, down, for whom my ghost still wanders unforgiven!

Come down, false Ferdinand, for whom I broke my peace with heaven !"

It was vain to hold the victim, for he plunged to meet her

call,

Like the bird that shrieks and flutters in the gazing serpent's

thrall.

THE BRIDGE OF SIGHS.

185

You may guess the boldest mariner shrunk launted from the

sight,

For the Spectre and her winding-sheet shone blue with hideous light;

Like a fiery wheel the boat spun with the waving of her hand, And round they went, and down they went, as the cock crew from the land.

Make no deep scrutiny

Into her mutiny,

Rash and undutiful;

Past all dishonor,

Death has left on her

Only the beautiful.

Still, for all slips of hers,

One of Eve's family,

Wipe those poor lips of hers

Oozing so clammily.

Loop up her tresses
Escaped from the comb--
Her fair auburn tresses-
Whilst wonderment guesses
Where was her home?

Who was her father?

Who was her mother?

Had she a sister?

Had she a brother?

Or was there a dearer one

Still, and a nearer one

Yet, than all other?

Alas! for the rarity

Of Christian charity
Under the sun!

O! it was pitiful!

Near a whole city full,
Home she had none.