There is blood upon the threshold
Whence thy step went forth at morn,
Like a dancer's in its fleetness,
Oh, my bright first-born!

At the glad sound of that footstep,
My heart within me smiled;

-Thou wert brought me back all silent
On thy bier, my child!

Darkly the cloud of night comes rolling on; Darker is thy repose, my fair-hair'd son!

Silent and dark!

I thought to see thy children
Laugh on me with thine eyes;
But my sorrow's voice is lonely
Where my
life's flower lies.

I shall go to sit beside thee,

Thy kindred's graves among;

I shall hear the tall grass whisper—
I shall hear it not long!

Darkly the cloud of night comes rolling ou;

Darker is thy repose, my fair-hair'd son!

And I too shall find slumber

Silent and dark!

With my lost one, in the earth;

-Let none light up the ashes

Again on our hearth!

Let the roof go down!-let silence
On the home for ever fall,

Where my boy lay cold, and heard not
His lone mother's call!

Darkly the cloud of night comes rolling on;
Darker is thy repose, my fair-hair'd son!

Silent and dark!

FAR AWAY.*

FAR away!-my home is far away,

Where the blue sea laves a mountain shore; In the woods I hear my brothers play,

'Midst the flowers my sister sings once more. Far away!

Far away! my dreams are far away,

When at midnight, stars and shadows reign; "Gentle child," my mother seems to say,

"Follow me where home shall smile again!" Far away!

Far away! my hope is far away,

Where love's voice young gladness may restore;

* This, and the five following songs, have been set to music of great merit, by J. Zeugheer Herrmann, and H. F. C., and are published in a set by Mr Power, who has given permission for the appearance of the words in this volume.

-O thou dove! now soaring through the day,
Lend me wings to reach that better shore,
Far away!

THE LYRE AND FLOWER.

A LYRE its plaintive sweetness pour'd
Forth on the wild wind's track;
The stormy wanderer jarr'd the chord,
But gave no music back.

-Oh, child of song!

Bear hence to heaven thy fire!

What hopest thou from the reckless throng;
Be not like that lost lyre!
Not like that lyre!

A flower its leaves and odours cast
On a swift-rolling wave;
Th' unheeding torrent darkly pass'd,
And back no treasure gave.
-Oh! heart of love!

Waste not thy precious dower!
Turn to thine only home above,
Be not like that lost flower!

Not like that flower!

SISTER! SINCE I MET THEE LAST.

SISTER! since I met thee last,

O'er thy brow a change hath past,

In the softness of thine

eyes,

Deep and still a shadow lies;

From thy voice there thrills a tone, Never to thy childhood known; Through thy soul a storm hath moved, -Gentle sister, thou hast loved!

Yes! thy varying cheek hath caught
Hues too bright from troubled thought;
Far along the wandering stream,
Thou art follow'd by a dream:
In the woods and valleys lone
Music haunts thee, not thine own:
Wherefore fall thy tears like rain?
—Sister, thou hast loved in vain !

Tell me not the tale, my flower!

On bosom my

pour

that shower!

Tell me not of kind thoughts wasted; Tell me not of young hopes blasted; Wring not forth one burning word, Let thy heart no more be stirr'd! Home alone can give thee rest. -Weep, sweet sister, on my breast!

THE LONELY BIRD.

FROM a ruin thou art singing,
Oh! lonely, lonely bird!
The soft blue air is ringing

By thy summer music stirr'd;
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,