As if the whisper of a gale,

That did but wave its snowy veil,

Might bear it from the earth afar,
A lovely, but receding star?

Know, that devotion's shrine, e'en now,
Receives that youthful vestal's vow:
For this, high hymns, sweet odours rise,
A jubilee of sacrifice!

Mark yet a moment! from her brow
Yon priest shall lift the veil of snow,
Ere yet a darker mantle hide

The charms to Heaven thus sanctified;
Stay thee! and catch their parting gleam,
That ne'er shall fade from memory's dream.
A moment! oh! to Ulric's soul

Poised between hope and fear's control,
What slow, unmeasured hours went by,
Ere yet suspense grew certainty;

It came at length-once more that face
Reveal'd to man its mournful grace;
A sunbeam on its features fell,

As if to bear the world's farewell;
And doubt was o'er-his heart

chill grew 'Twas she-though changed-'twas Ella still! Though now her once-rejoicing mien Was deeply, mournfully serene;

Though clouds her eye's blue lustre shaded, And the young cheek beneath had faded, Well, well he knew the form, which cast Light on his soul through all the past! 'Twas with him on the battle plain, 'Twas with him on the stormy main,

'Twas in his visions, when the shield
Pillow'd his head on tented field;
'Twas a bright beam that led him on
Where'er a triumph might be won,
In danger as in glory nigh,
An angel-guide to victory!

She caught his pale bewilder'd gaze
Of grief half lost in fix'd amaze—
Was it some vain illusion, wrought
By frenzy of impassion'd thought?
Some phantom, such as Grief hath power
To summon, in her wandering hour?
No! it was he! the lost, the mourn'd,
Too deeply loved, too late return'd!

A fever'd blush, a sudden start, Spoke the last weakness of her heart: 'Twas vanquish'd soon-the hectic red. A moment flush'd her cheek, and fled. Once more serene-her steadfast eye Look'd up as to Eternity;

Then gaz'd on Ulric with an air,

That said the home of Love is there!

Yes! there alone it smiled for him, Whose eye before that look grew dim; Not long 'twas his e'en thus to view The beauty of its calm adieu; Soon o'er those features, brightly pale, Was cast th' impenetrable veil; And, if one human sigh were given By the pure bosom vow'd to Heaven,

'Twas lost, as many a murmur'd sound
Of grief, "not loud, but deep," is drown'd,
In hymns of joy, which proudly rise,
To tell the calm untroubled skies,

That earth hath banish'd care and woe,
And man holds festivals below!

NOTES.

NOTE 1.

THE original of the scene here described is presented by the mountain called the Feldberg, in the Bergstrasse :- "Des masses énormes de rochers, entassées l'une sur l'autre depuis le sommet de la montagne, jusqu'à son pied, viennent y présenter un aspect superbe qu'aucune description ne saurait rendre. Ce furent, dit-on, des géans, qui en se livrant un combat du haut des montagnes, lancèrent les uns sur les autres ces énormes masses de rochers. On arrive, avec beau coup de peine, jusqu'au sommet du Feldberg, en suivant un sentier qui passe à côté de cette chaine de rochers. On entend continuellement un bruit sourd, qui parait venir d'un ruisseau au dessous des rochers; mais on a beau decendre, en se glissant à travers les ouvertures qui s'y trouvent, on ne decouvrira jamais le ruisseau. La colonne, dite Riesensäule, se trouve un peu plus haut qu'à la moitie de la montagne; c'est un bloc de granit taillé, d'une longueur de 30 pieds et d'un diamétre de 4 pieds. Il y a plus de probabilité de croire que les anciens Germains voulaient faire de ce bloc une colonne pour l'ériger en l'honneur de leur dieu Odin, que de préttendre, comme le fort plusieurs auteurs, que les Romains aient eu le dessein de la transporter dans leur capitale. On

voit un peu plus haut un autre bloc d'une forme presque carrée qu'on appelle Riesenaltar (autel du géant) qui, à en juger par sa grosseur et sa forme, était destiné à servir de piédestal à la colonne susdite.". · Manuel pour les Voyageurs sur le Rhin.

NOTE 2.

Minnesingers (bards of love), the appellation of the German minstrels in the Middle Ages.

BEINGS of brighter worlds! that rise at times
As phantoms, with ideal beauty fraught,

In those brief visions of celestial climes,

Which pass, like sunbeams, o'er the realms of thought,
Dwell ye around us?-are ye hovering nigh,
Throned on the cloud; or buoyant in the air?
And in deep solitudes, where human eye

Can trace no step, Immortals! are ye there?

Oh! who can tell?—what power, but Death alone, Can lift the mystic veil that shades the world unknown?

II.

But Earth hath seen the days, ere yet the flowers Of Eden wither'd, when reveal'd ye shone,

In all your brightness, 'midst those holy bowers-
Holy, but not unfading, as your own!

While He, the child of that primeval soil,
With you its paths in high communion trode,
His glory yet undimm'd by guilt or toil,
And beaming in the image of his God.
And his pure spirit glowing from the sky,
Exulting in its light, a spark of Deity.