I once felt affections, more gentle and fond,
That shone o'er my soul, like the stars o'er the

seas;

And think'st thou my spirit can ever despond,

While memory revives such emotions as these? Oh! how many a smile and affectionate word

Remain through long years on the woe-blighted mind,

When joy hath shot over its wastes, like a bird That hath left a bright gift from its plumage behind!

And what though the vision of happiness flies From the heart that had cherished it fondly before?

Its flowers may be withered, but memory supplies Their vigor and fragrance, and beauty once more. Oh! may my remembrances never depart!

May I still feel a bliss in beholding the pastWhile memory over the gems of the heart Shall, sentinel-like, keep her watch to the last. MARY ANN BROWNE.

88

TO A FRIEND.

TO A FRIEND,

ON HER BIRTH-DAY.

ONCE more, my gentle friend! has time's swift flight

(Suspended never) reached thy natal day;

And that pure friendship which first bade me plight
My promise to devote to it a lay,

Shall be fulfilled: what, though perchance it may
Bear token of the hour that gives it birth,
Yet wilt thou not its sober tone gainsay;

For thou hast sojourned long enough on earth, Young as thou art, to know the emptiness of mirth. I mean that mirth, which, flashing but to fade, Exhil'rates not, but soon exhausts the mind: And, transiently delighting, leaves a shade

Of self-engender'd dreariness behind. With such my clouded spirit oft has pined;

Until, disgusted with the treacherous gleam, In which a moment's bliss it sought to find,

Despair has almost tempted me to deem Joy an unreal shade-delight an empty dream. Yet is there left us an alternative

In chastened cheerfulness, deriving birth From other sources than the world can give, Far, far superior to its heartless mirth;

TO A FRIEND.

89

And though at times, while we remain on earth, Clouds may obscure this "sunshine of the breast,"

Those who have truly known and prized its worth Will own in gratitude, in hours deprest,

Its memory boasts that charm left by a blameless guest.

This is thy birth-day! and for Friendship's sake, Even in this gloomiest season of the year, Feelings as warm as spring could ever wake Have chronicled, and bid me hold it dear.

The heart has in itself a hemisphere

That knows not change of season, day or night; For still when thoughts of those we love are near, Their cherished forms arise before our sight, And o'er the spirit shed fresh sunshine and delight. Nature, who wore, when few months since we met, Her summer garb, a different dress displays; Your garden walks may now be moss'd and wet: The jas'mine's star-like bloom, which in the

rays

Of the bright moon seemed lovely to my gaze, Has faded now; and the green leaves that grew So lightly on the acacia's topmost sprays,

Have lost, ere this, their glossy verdant hue, Shading no more the path their reliques soon must strew.

90

TO A FRIEND.

Is there nought left then, loveliness to lend
Unto the spot my memory loves to trace?
Should I now find, were I to come and spend
A day with you, no beauty left to grace
What seemed of quiet joy the dwelling-place?

Oh yes! believe me, much as I admired
Those charms which change of seasons can efface,
It was not such alone, when home retir'd,
That memory cherish'd most, or most the muse
inspired.

When nature sheds her leafy loveliness,

She does not die: her vital principle But seeks awhile its innermost recess, And there securely finds a citadel Which even winter owns impregnable;

The sap retreating downward to the root Is still alive, as spring shall shortly tell,

By swelling buds, whence blossoms soon will shoot

Dispensing fragrance round, and pledge of future

fruit.

And thus our best affections, those which bind
Heart unto heart by friendship's purest tie,
Have an internal life, and are enshrined

Too deeply in our bosoms soon to die.

Spring's opening bloom, and summer's azure sky, Might borrow from them beauties not their own; But when November winds are loud and high,

TO A FRIEND.

91

And nature's dirge assumes its deepest tone, The joy of social hours in its full charm is known. For as the sap, whose quickening influence

Shall be in spring the birth of future flowers, Confined and concentrated, is from thence

More full of life, than in those brighter hours When birds sang sweetly in their shady bowers, And all unclouded was heaven's vaulted dome; Thus is it with the mind's electric powers,

Forbid by winter's frowning skies to roam, Their radiance is condensed, their focus found at home.

Then stir the cheerful fire! and let its light

The rallying point of home-born pleasures be; Where spirit sparkling eyes, and smiles as bright, Their own fit emblem may delighted see; And let the overflow of innocent glee

Be like the exuberance of the Nile, and bless

The seeds of future joy's fertility;

That days, in years to come, may bear the im

press

Of hours of blameless bliss and social happiness.
Since such, dear friend! is the delightful season
When thou wast born, oh! let it, as it ought,
Be kept with due observance, for that reason;
Not lighted up with borrow'd splendor caught
From outward themes, which time or chance may
thwart :