But all is dark and cold beneath,

Where harps no more are heard: Whence winn'st thou that exulting breath, Oh! lonely, lonely bird?

Thy song flows richly swelling,
To a triumph of glad sounds,

As from its cavern dwelling

A stream in glory bounds!

Though the castle echoes catch no tone

Of human step or word,

Though the fires be quench'd and the feasting done, Oh! lonely, lonely bird!

How can that flood of gladness
Rush through thy fiery lay,
From the haunted place of sadness,
From the bosom of decay?

While dirge-notes in the breeze's moan,

Through the ivy garlands heard, Come blent with thy rejoicing tone,

Oh! lonely, lonely bird!

There's many a heart, wild singer,
Like thy forsaken tower,
Where joy no more may linger,

Where love hath left his bower:

And there's many a spirit e'en like thee,
To mirth as lightly stirr'd,

Though it soar from ruins in its glee,
Oh! lonely, lonely bird!

SLEEP!

DIRGE AT SEA.

we give thee to the wave,

Red with life-blood from the brave,
Thou shalt find a noble grave.
Fare thee well!

Sleep! thy billowy field is won.
Proudly may the funeral gun,
'Midst the hush at set of sun,
Boom thy knell !

Lonely, lonely is thy bed,

Never there may flower be shed,
Marble rear'd, or brother's head
Bow'd to weep.

Yet thy record on the sea,

Borne through battle high and free,
Long the red-cross flag shall be.
Sleep! oh, sleep!

PILGRIM'S SONG TO THE EVENING STAR.

O SOFT star of the west!
Gleaming far,

Thou'rt guiding all things home,
Gentle star!

Thou bring'st from rock and wave,

The sea-bird to her nest,
The hunter from the hills,

The fisher back to rest.

Light of a thousand streams,
Gleaming far!

O soft star of the west,
Blessed star!

No bowery roof is mine,
No hearth of love and rest,
Yet guide me to my shrine,
O soft star of the west!
There, there my home shall be,
Heaven's dew shall cool my breast,
When prayer and tear gush free,
O soft star of the west!

O soft star of the west,
Gleaming far!

Thou'rt guiding all things home,
Gentle star!

Shine from thy rosy heaven,

Pour joy on earth and sea! Shine on, though no sweet eyes Look forth to watch for me! Light of a thousand streams, Gleaming far!

O soft star of the west!

Blessed star!

THE MEETING OF THE SHIPS.

"We take each other by the hand, and we exchange a few words and looks of kindness, and we rejoice together for a few short moments; and then days, months, years intervene, and we see and know nothing of each other.". WASHINGTON IRVING.

Two barks met on the deep mid-sea,
When calms had still'd the tide;

A few bright days of summer glee
There found them side by side.

And voices of the fair and brave
Rose mingling thence in mirth;
And sweetly floated o'er the wave
The melodies of earth.

Moonlight on that lone Indian main
Cloudless and lovely slept;

While dancing step, and festive strain
Each deck in triumph swept.

And hands were link'd, and answering eyes

With kindly meaning shone;

Oh! brief and passing sympathies,

Like leaves together blown.

A little while such joy was cast
Over the deep's repose,

Till the loud singing winds at last
Like trumpet music rose.

And proudly, freely on their way
The parting vessels bore;

In calm or storm, by rock or bay,
To meet-oh, never more!

Never to blend in victory's cheer,
To aid in hours of woe;

And thus bright spirits mingle here,
Such ties are form'd below.

COME AWAY.1

COME away!-the child where flowers are springing,
Round its footsteps on the mountain slope,
Hears a glad voice from the upland singing,
Like the skylark's with its tone of hope:
Come away!

Bounding on, with sunny lands before him,

All the wealth of glowing life outspread, Ere the shadow of a cloud comes o'er him, By that strain the youth in joy is led: Come away!

Slowly, sadly, heavy change is falling

O'er the sweetness of the voice within; Yet its tones, on restless manhood calling, Urge the hunter still to chase, to win:

Come away!

This song is in the possession of Mr. Power, to be set to music.