TO A DEPARTED SPIRIT.

TO A DEPARTED SPIRIT.

FROM the bright stars, or from the viewless air,
Or from some world unreach'd by human thought,
Spirit, sweet spirit! if thy home be there,

And if thy visions with the past be fraught,

Answer me, answer me!

Have we not communed here with life and death? Have we not said that love, such love as ours, Was not to perish as a rose's breath,

To melt away, like song from festal bowers?

Answer, oh! answer me!

Thine eye's last light was mine-The soul that shone Intensely, mournfully, through gathering hazeDidst thou bear with thee to the shore unknown, Naught of what lived in that long earnest gaze? Hear, hear, and answer me!

Thy voice-its low, soft, fervent, farewell tone Thrill'd through the tempest of the parting strife, Like a faint breeze :-oh! from that music flown, Send back one sound, if love's be quenchless life, But once, oh! answer me !

In the still noontide, in the sunset's hush,

In the dead hour of night, when thought grows deep, When the heart's phantoms from the darkness rush, Fearfully beautiful, to strive with sleep

Spirit! then answer me!

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By the remembrance of our blended prayer;
By all our tears, whose mingling made them sweet;
By our last hope, the victor o'er despair;-
Speak! if our souls in deathless yearnings meet;
Answer me, answer me!

The grave is silent:-and the far-off sky,
And the deep midnight-silent all, and lone!
Oh! if thy buried love make no reply,

What voice has Earth?-Hear, pity, speak, mine own!
Answer me, answer me!

THE CHAMOIS HUNTER'S LOVE.

For all his wildness and proud fantasies,

I love him!

CROLY.

THY heart is in the upper world, where fleet the Chamois bounds,

Thy heart is where the mountain-fir shakes to the torrent-sounds;

And where the snow-peaks gleam like stars, through the stillness of the air,

And where the Lauwine's' peal is heard-Hunter! thy heart is there!

'Lauwine, the avalanche.

THE CHAMOIS HUNTER'S LOVE.

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I know thou lov'st me well, dear Friend! but better, better far,

Thou lov'st that high and haughty life, with rocks and storms at war;

In the green sunny vales with me, thy spirit would but pine

And yet I will be thine, my Love! and yet I will be thine.

And I will not seek to woo thee down from those thy native heights,

With the sweet song, our land's own song, of pastoral delights;

For thou must live as eagles live, thy path is not as mine

And yet I will be thine, my Love! and yet I will be thine.

And I will leave my blessed home, my Father's joyous hearth,

With all the voices meeting there in tenderness and mirth,

With all the kind and laughing eyes, that in its fire-light shine,

To sit forsaken in thy hut,-yet know that thou art mine!

It is my youth, it is my bloom, it is my glad free heart,

That I cast away for thee-for thee-all reckless as thou art!

With tremblings and with vigils lone, I bind myself to dwell;

Yet, yet I would not change that lot,-oh no! I love too well!

A mournful thing is love which grows to one SO wild as thou,

With that bright restlessness of eye, that tameless fire of brow!

Mournful!—but dearer far I call its mingled fear and pride,

And the trouble of its happiness, than aught on earth beside.

To listen for thy step in vain, to start at every breath,

To watch through long, long nights of storm, to sleep and dream of death,

To wake in doubt and loneliness-this doom I know is mine,

And yet I will be thine, my Love! and yet I will be thine!

That I may greet thee from thine Alps, when thence thou com'st at last,

That I may hear thy thrilling voice tell o'er each. danger past,

That I may kneel and pray for thee, and win thee aid divine,

For this I will be thine, my Love! for this I will be thine!

SONG OF EMIGRATION.

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SONG OF EMIGRATION.

THERE was heard a song on the chiming sea,
A mingled breathing of grief and glee;
Man's voice, unbroken by sighs, was there,
Filling with triumph the sunny air;

Of fresh green lands, and of pastures new,

It sang, while the bark through the surges flew:

But ever and anon

A murmur of farewell

Told, by its plaintive tone,

That from woman's lip it fell.

"Away, away, o'er the foaming main!" -This was the free and the joyous strain"There are clearer skies than ours, afar, We will shape our course by a brighter star; There are plains whose verdure no foot hath press'd, And whose wealth is all for the first brave guest."

"But alas! that we should go"

-Sang the farewell voices then-
"From the homesteads, warm and low,
By the brook and in the glen!"

"We will rear new homes under trees that glow,
As if gems were the fruitage of every bough;
O'er our white walls we will train the vine,
And sit in its shadow at day's decline;
And watch our herds, as they range at will
Through the green savannas, all bright and still."