"Alas!" sigh'd the maiden, "how fancy can cheat! The world once had lips that could whisper thus sweet; But cold now they slumber in yon fatal deep,
Where, oh that beside them this heart too could sleep!"
She sunk on her pillow-but no, 't was in vain
To chase the illusion, that Voice came again!
She flew to the casement-but, hush'd as the grave,
In moonlight lay slumbering woodland and wave.
"Oh sleep, come and shield me," in anguish she said, "From that call of the buried, that cry of the Dead!” And sleep came around her; but, starting, she woke, For still from the garden that spirit Voice spoke!
"I come," she exclaim'd, "be thy home where it
On earth or in heaven, that call I obey;"
Then forth through the moonlight, with heart beating fast.
And loud as a death-watch, the pale maiden past.
Still round her the scene all in loneliness shone ;
And still, in the distance, that Voice led her on ;
But whither she wander'd, by wave or by shore,
None ever could tell, for she came back no more.
No, ne'er came she back,-but the watchman who stood
That night in the tow'r which o'ershadows the flood,
Saw dimly, 'tis said, o'er the moon-lighted spray,
A youth on a steed bear the maiden away.
Et remigem cantus hortatur.-QUINTILIAN.
FAINTLY as tolls the evening chime,
Our voices keep tune and our oars keep time.
Soon as the woods on shore look dim,
We'll sing at St. Ann's our parting hymn.
Row, brothers, row, the stream runs fast,
The Rapids are near and the daylight's past.
Why should we yet our sail unfurl ?
There is not a breath the blue wave to curl;
But, when the wind blows off the shore,
Oh! sweetly we 'll rest our weary oar.
Blow, breezes, blow, the stream runs fast,
The Rapids are near and the daylight's past.
Utawas' tide! this trembling moon
Shall see us float over thy surges soon.
Saint of this green isle! hear our prayers,
Oh, grant us cool heavens and favouring airs.
Blow, breezes, blow, the stream runs fast,
The Rapids are near and the daylight's past.
HEY told her that he to whose vows she had
Through night's fleeting hours, was a Spirit
Unholy the eyes that beside her had glisten'd,
And evil the lips she in darkness had prest.
When next in thy chamber the bridegroom reclineth,
Bring near him thy lamp, when in slumber he lies ;
And there, as the light o'er his dark features shineth,
Thou'lt see what a demon hath won all thy sighs!"
Too fond to believe them, yet doubting, yet fearing,
When calm lay the sleeper she stole with her light;
And saw-such a vision !-no image, appearing
To bards in their day-dreams, was ever so bright.
A youth, but just passing from childhood's sweet morning,
While round him still linger'd its innocent ray;
Though gleams from beneath his shut eyelids gave warning
Of summer-noon lightnings that under them lay.
His brow had a grace more than mortal around it,
While, glossy as gold from a fairy-land mine,
His sunny hair hung, and the flowers that crown'd it
Seem'd fresh from the breeze of some garden divine.
Entranced stood the bride, on that miracle gazing,
What late was but love is idolatry now;
But, ah-in her tremor the fatal lamp raising-
A sparkle flew from it and dropp'd on his brow.
All's lost-with a start from his rosy sleep waking,
The Spirit flash'd o'er her his glances of fire;
Then, slow from the clasp of her snowy arms breaking,
Thus said, in a voice more of sorrow than ire:
"Farewell-what a dream thy suspicion hath broken!
Thus ever Affection's fond vision is crost;
Dissolved are her spells when a doubt is but spoken,
And love, once distrusted, for ever is lost!"
N vain all the Knights of the Underwald woo'd her,
Though brightest of maidens, the proudest was she;
Brave chieftains they sought, and young minstrels they sued her,
But worthy were none of the high-born Ladye.
Whomsoever I wed," said this maid, so excelling,
"That Knight must the conqu'ror of conquerors be;
He must place me in halls fit for monarchs to dwell in ;-
None else shall be Lord of the high-born Ladye!"
Thus spoke the proud damsel, with scorn looking round her
On Knights and on Nobles of highest degree;
Who humbly and hopelessly left as they found her,
And worshipp'd at distance the high-born Ladye.
At length came a Knight, from a far land to woo her,
With plumes on his helm like the foam of the sea;
His vizor was down-but, with voice that thrill'd through her,
He whisper'd his vows to the high-born Ladye.
"Proud maiden! I come with high spousals to grace thee, In me the great conqu'ror of conquerors see;
Enthroned in a hall fit for monarchs I'll place thee,
And mine thou 'rt for ever, thou high-born Ladye!"
The maiden she smiled, and in jewels array'd her,
Of thrones and tiaras already dreamt she;
And proud was the step, as her bridegroom convey'd her
In pomp to his home, of that high-born Ladye.
"But whither," she, starting, exclaims, "have you led me? Here's nought but a tomb and a dark eypress tree;
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