"Yes, I will take the silvery lute-and I will sing to

thee

A song we heard in childhood's days, ev'n from our father's knee.

Oh sister! sister! are these notes amid forgotten

things?

Do they not linger as in love, on the familiar

strings?

Seems not our sainted mother's voice to murmur in

the strain,

Kind sister! gentlest Leonor! say shall it plead in

vain ?"

SONG.

"Leave us not, leave us not!

Say not adieu !

Have we not been to thee

Tender and true?

“Oh sister, hush that thrilling lute, oh cease that

haunting lay,

Too deeply pierce those wild sweet notes; yet, yet

I cannot stay,

For weary-weary is my heart! I hear a whispered

call

In every breeze that stirs the leaf and bids the blossom fall.

I cannot breathe in freedom here, my spirit pines to

dwell

Where the world's voice can reach no more!-oh

calm thee! Fare thee well!"

THE LAST SONG OF SAPPHO.

Suggested by a beautiful sketch, the design of the younger Westmacott. It represents Sappho sitting on a rock above the sea, with her lyre cast at her feet. There is a desolate grace

about the whole figure, which seems penetrated with the feeling

of utter abandonment.

THE LAST SONG OF SAPPHO.

SOUND on, thou dark unslumbering sea!

My dirge is in thy moan;

My spirit finds response in thee,

To its own ceaseless cry-" Alone, alone!"

Yet send me back one other word,

Ye tones that never cease!

Oh! let your secret caves be stirr'd,

And

say, dark waters! will ye give me peace?

Away! my weary soul hath sought

In vain one echoing sigh,

One answer to consuming thought

In human hearts-and will the wave reply?