er,

Her heart may not be thine!

"Go, set thy boat before the blast,
Thy breast before the gun,
The haven shall be reached at last,
The battle shall be won;
Or muse upon thy country's laws,
Or strike thy country's lute,
And patriot hands shall sound applause,
And lovely lips be mute:
Go, dig the diamond from the wave,
The treasure from the mine,
Enjoy the wreath, the gold, the grave,
No woman's heart is thine!

"I charm thee from the agony Which others feel or feign, From anger and from jealousy,

From doubt and from disdain; I bid thee wear the scorn of years Upon the cheek of youth, And curl the lip at passion's tears, And shake the head at truth: While there is bliss in revelry,

Forgetfulness in wine,

Be thou from woman's love as free As woman is from thine!"

To him a mystery still.

Yet scorn thou not for this the true
And steadfast love of years;
The kindly, that from childhood grew,
The faithful to thy tears!

If there be one that o'er the dead
Hath in thy grief borne part,
And watched through sickness by thy
bed,

Call his a kindred heart!

But for those bonds all perfect made,
Wherein bright spirits blend,
Like sister flowers of one sweet shade
With the same breeze that bend,
For that full bliss of thought allied,

Never to mortals given,

O, lay thy lovely dreams aside,
Or lift them unto heaven!

KINDRED HEARTS.

O, ASK not, hope thou not, too much
Of sympathy below;

Few are the hearts whence one same touch

Bids the sweet fountains flow:
Few and by still conflicting powers
Forbidden here to meet-
Such ties would make this life of ours
Too fair for aught so fleet.

It may be that thy brother's eye

Sees not as thine, which turns
In such deep reverence to the sky
Where the rich sunset burns;
It may be that the breath of spring,
Born amidst violets lone,

A rapture o'er thy soul can bring,
A dream, to his unknown.

The tune that speaks of other times, -
A sorrowful delight!

The melody of distant chimes,

The sound of waves by night; The wind that, with so many a tone, Some chord within can thrill,