242

DIED ABROAD.

And through her breast, with every fevered swelling,

Some sorrowing memory of the past would come :
And when life's shadow deepened o'er her way,
She pined in vain for loved ones far away.

Therefore, kind Death, for very love and pity,
First chilled her throbbing brow with his cold hand,
Then led her gently through his silent city

On to the portals of a radiant land;

Watched while the angels twined her fadeless wreath,
Then left her. It was not thy shore, O Death!

Oh, weeping sister, in thy lone home dwelling,
When thy fond heart will sink, thy spirits pine,
Look up! and know where angel hymns are swelling,
There swell the tones that blended oft with thine;
And deem thy soul approaches heaven in prayer
More nearly, that a kindred voice is there.

Perchance, sad mother, thy fond love is dearer
To thy fair child than when the restless wave
Divided you-her gentler spirit nearer

Than in that distant land.

Dream not an exile's grave

Retains her. No! still present, though so far,

Her eyes may watch thee now, from some calm star.

ANON.

HOU art so fair, so excellently framed, There is such mind in thy soul-breathing eye, As if its purer home in heaven it claimed, And thence alone could draw its witchery; Thy voice hath such a soothing melody, And on thy lightest thought such magic plays, Like a bright fountain on the gladdened sky; Methinks as on thy perfect form I gaze,

In peace should be thy paths, in pleasantness thy ways.

Then left her.

Oh

More neaug,

Perchance, sad mother, thy fond lo..

To thy fair child than when the restless
Divided you-her gentler spirit nearer

Than in that distant land. Dream not an exile's
Retains her. No! still present, though so far,
Her eyes may watch thee now, from some calm star.

ANON.

HOU art so fair, so excellently framed, There is such mind in thy soul-breathing eye, As if its purer home in heaven it claimed, And thence alone could draw its witchery; Thy voice hath such a soothing melody, And on thy lightest thought such magic plays, Like a bright fountain on the gladdened sky; Methinks as on thy perfect form I gaze,

In peace should be thy paths, in pleasantness thy ways.

244

A RECOLLECTION.

But when I think upon the syren world

Whose arms would clasp thee in their false embrace,

Whose glittering banner in thy sight unfurled
From better views would turn thy lovely face;
Moulding thy docile spirit's winning grace

To the fair treasons of its painted wiles;

I fain would snatch thee from that fatal race,

Whose giddy round each better thought beguiles,

And leaves the victor nought but pale and hollow smiles.

So, when before the eyes of lofty Rome

The Anglian captives stood, a blooming band,
Breathing of beauty from their sea-girt home,
And proudly in that far and foreign land.
Recalling their white island's rocky strand;
The patriarch spake with mild and pitying eye,
And said, as their majestic forms he scanned,
"Worthy their name !-like angels pure and high,
Angelic too should be their path and destiny!"

A RECOLLECTION.

THERE was a boy; ye knew him well, ye cliffs
And islands of Winander!-many a time
At evening, when the earliest stars began.
To move along the edges of the hills,
Rising or setting, would he stand alone

Beneath the trees, or by the glimmering lake :

ANON.