And when his thoughts are dark and dim
Hears only vacant mirth;
A swallow left when all his kind
Have crossed the seas and winged the wind.
The auburn hair is braided soft,
Upon thy snowy brow :—
Why dost thou gaze on me so oft?
I cannot follow now !
It would be crime, a double death-
To follow thy forbidden path.
But let me press that hand again,
I oft have pressed in love,
When sauntering through the grassy plain,
Or summer's evening grove;
Or pausing as we marked afar
The twinkling of the evening star,
Blackwood's Magazine.
LAST Smile of the departing year,
Thy sister sweets are flown!
Thy pensive wreath is far more dear
From blooming thus alone!
Thy tender blush, thy simple frame,
Unnoticed might have passed;
But now thou com'st, with softer claim,
The loveliest and the last.
Sweet are the charms in thee we find,-
Emblem of Hope's gay wing;
'Tis thine to call past bloom to mind,
To promise future spring.
Literary Gazette.
WRITTEN BENEATH A PICTURE.
NAY, reproach me not, sweet one! I still am thine own,
Though the world in its toils hath detained me awhile!
The deep vision that spelled my lone bosom is flown,
And a truant to love-I return to thy smile!
It hath ever been thus,-when condemned or deceived
By the many I scorned-or the few that I loved,—
Whilst I breathed my contempt,—or in silentness grieved,
It was bliss to remember whose truth I had proved;
And the falsehood of friends,-the crowd's hollow decree-
Served to bind me more fondly and firmly to thee.
Yes, I still am thine own, though I sometimes may mingle-
In lightness of spirit-with fools I despise;
In my heart-my dark heart-dwelling silent and single-
Is the thought of all others, it soothes me to prize.
If I join the loud throng in its madness of mirth,
I but think how much purer our pleasures have been ;— If I gaze on the fair-bosomed daughters of earth,
'Tis to turn to thy beauties of beauty the Queen! And if from man's dwelling to Nature I flee, Glen-mountain-and ocean—seem breathing of thee.
When a soft soothing glance from the eye of affection
Breaks my midnight of gloom with its halo divine,
How surpassingly sweet is the bright recollection
Of the passionate love ever beaming from thine!— "Twill beam on me no more!-Yet though death has bereft me Of a form such as Seraphs from heaven might adore,—
In this image-thy features of beauty are left me,
And the lines of thy soul in my heart's core of core!
Then reproach me not, sweet one! for time shall not see
The hour that estranges one deep thought of thee.
Literary Gazette.
THERE was a light upon the stream,
Just one pale and silent beam
From the moon's departing car,
From the setting morning star,
Like Hope asking, timidly,
Whether it must live or die;
But that twilight pause is past !—
Crimson hues are colouring fast,
All the eastern clouds that fly,
Banners spread triumphantly.
The moon is but a speck of white,
The sun has looked away her light;
Farewell Night, thy shadowy gleams,
Dewy flowers, gentle dreams!
Be thy starry pinions furled,-
Day has blushed upon the world.
Never day-beam hath shone o'er
Lovelier or wilder shore!
Half was land, and half was sea,
Where the eye could only see
The blue sky for boundary.
From the green woods sounds are ringing,
For the wakened birds are singing
To the blossoms where they slept,
Thanks for the sweet watch they kept.
Here stand tall and stately trees;
Others, that the slightest breeze
Bows to earth, and from their bloom
Shakes and rifles the perfume:
Like woman, feeble but to bless,
Sweetest in weak loveliness!
The red Lotus; while above
Hang the Grecian flowers of love,
Roses-leading soft and bright,
Lives, half perfume and half light;
In their leaves the honey bee
Lulled to sleep, voluptuously.
There are shades, which the red sun
Never yet has looked upon;
Where the moon has but the power
Of a cool and twilight hour.
By the sea are sparry caves,
Where the music of the waves
Never ceases, and the walls
Are hung with the coronals
Left by Sea-maids, when they wring
Pearls which in their wet hair cling.
"Tis a land of fruit and flowers,
Silver waters, sunny hours;
Human foot has never prest
Its so sweet and silent rest.
But a bark is on the sea,
And those in that bark will be
Soon upon the island shore,
And its loneliness is o'er !
Oh, if any dare intrude
On the lovely solitude!
If there be that need not fear
Breaking the sweet quiet here!
If there should be those, for whom
Leaves expand and flowers bloom,
Birds breathe song,—oh, if there be,
Surely, Love, it is for thee!
Lover's step would softly press
Flowers with its light caress;
Lover's words would have atone
With each song in unison!
Lover's smiles would be as fair
As the sunniest day-beam there;
And no roses would be sweet
As the sighs when lovers meet.
The slight bark came o'er the sea,
Two leant in it mournfully
One who left her convent cell
With the youth she loved so well;
One who left his native land
For the sake of that dear hand.
Shine and storm they had sailed through
What is there love dare not do?
Her arm round his neck was thrown,
His was round her like a zone,
Guarding with such anxious fear
All it had in love most dear.
Pale her cheek, and the sea spray
Dashed upon it, as she lay
Pillowed on her lover's arm;
But her lip still kept the charm
(Fondly raised to his the while)
Of its own peculiar smile,
As with him she had no fear
Of the rushing waters near;
And the youth's dark flashing eye
Answered her's, so tenderly,
So wildly, warmly, passionate,
As she only were his fate.
But Hope rises from her grave,
There is a land upon the wave:
What are toils or perils past
Reached is the bright isle at last,
Free from care or earthly thrall,
For Love's own sweet festival!
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