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By the remembrance of our blended prayer;
By all our tears, whose mingling made them sweet;
By our last hope, the victor o'er despair ;-
Speak! if our souls in deathless yearnings meet;

Answer me, answer me !

The grave is silent :--and the far-off sky,
And the deep midnight-silent all, and lone!
Oh! if thy buried love make no reply,
What voice has Earth?—Hear, pity, speak, mine own!

Answer me, answer me!

THE CHAMOIS HUNTER'S LOVE.

For all his wildness and proud fantasies,
I love him!

CROLY.

Thy heart is in the upper world, where fleet the

Chamois bounds, Thy heart is where the mountain-fir shakes to the

torrent-sounds; And where the snow-peaks gleam like stars, through

the stillness of the air, And where the Lauwine's' peal is heard--Hunter !

thy heart is there!

*Lauwine, the avalanche.

THE CHAMOIS HUNTER'S LOVE.

37

I know thou lov'st me well, dear Friend! but bet.

ter, better far, Thou lov'st that high and haughty life, with rocks

and storms at war; In the green sunny vales with me, thy spirit would

but pineAnd yet I will be thine, my Love! and yet I will

be thine.

And I will not seek to woo thee down from those

thy native heights, With the sweet song, our land's own song, of pas

toral delights; For thou must live as eagles live, thy path is not

as mineAnd yet I will be thine, my Love! and yet I will

be thine.

And I will leave my blessed home, my Father's

joyous hearth, With all the voices meeting there in tenderness and

mirth, With all the kind and laughing eyes, that in its

fire-light shine, To sit forsaken in thy hut,- yet know that thou

art mine!

It is my youth, it is my bloom, it is my glad free

heart, That I cast away for thee—for thee-all reckless With tremblings and with vigils lone, I bind myself

as thou art! VOL. VI. 4

to dwell; Yet, yet I would not change that lot, -oh no! I

love too well!

A mournful thing is love which grows to one so

wild as thou, With that bright restlessness of eye, that tameless

fire of brow! Mournful!— but dearer far I call its mingled fear

and pride, And the trouble of its happiness, than aught on

earth beside.

To listen for thy step in vain, to start at every

breath, To watch through long, long nights of storm, to

sleep and dream of death, To wake in doubt and loneliness — this doom I know

is mine, And yet I will be thine, my Love! and yet I will

be thine!

That I may greet thee from thine Alps, when thence

thou com’st at last, That I may hear thy thrilling voice tell o’er each

danger past, That I may kneel and pray for thee, and win thee

aid divine, For this I will be thine, my Love! for this I will

be thine !

SONG OF EMIGRATION.

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SONG OF EMIGRATION.

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THERE was heard a song on the chiming sea,
A mingled breathing of grief and glee;
Man's voice, unbroken by sighs, was there,
Filling with triumph the sunny air;
Of fresh green lands, and of pastures new,
It sang, while the bark through the surges flew:

But ever and anon

A murmur of farewell
Told, by its plaintive tone,

That from woman's lip it fell. Away, away, o'er the foaming main !” - This was the free and the joyous strain“ There are clearer skies than ours, afar, We will shape our course by a brighter star; There are plains whose verdure no foot hath pressid, And whose wealth is all for the first brave guest.”.

“But alas! that we should go”

- Sang the farewell voices then-
« From the homesteads, warm and low,

By the brook and in the glen!"
“We will rear new homes under trees that glow,
As if gems were the fruitage of every bough;
O'er our white walls we will train the vine,
And sit in its shadow at day's decline;
And watch our herds, as they range at will
Through the green savannas, all bright and still.”

“ But woe for that sweet shade

Of the flowering orchard-trees,
Where first our children play'd

'Midst the birds and honey-bees !”

“All, all our own shall the forests be,
As to the bound of the roebuck free!
None shall say, Hither, no further pass!'
We will track each step through the wavy grass;
We will chase the elk in his speed and might,
And bring proud spoils to the hearth at night.”

“But, oh! the grey church-tower,

And the sound of Sabbath-bell,
And the shelter'd garden-bower,-

We have bid them all farewell !"

“We will give the names of our fearless race
To each bright river whose course we trace ;
We will leave our memory with mounts and floods,
And the path of our daring in boundless woods !
And our works unto many a lake's green shore,
Where the Indian's graves lay, alone, before."

“But who shall teach the flowers,

Which our children loved, to dwell
In a soil that is not ours?

-Home, home and friends, farewell !”

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