NIGHTS OF MUSIC.

NIGHTS of music, nights of loving,
Lost too soon, remember'd long,
When we went by moonlight roving,
Hearts all love and lips all song;
When this faithful lute recorded.
All my spirit felt to thee;

And that smile the song rewarded-
Worth whole years of fame to me!

Nights of song, and nights of splendour,
Fill'd with joys too sweet to last-
Joys that, like the star-light, tender,
While they shone, no shadow cast.
Though all other happy hours
From my fading mem'ry fly,
Of that star-light, of those bowers,
Not a beam, a leaf shall die!

THE VOICE.

It came o'er her sleep, like a voice of those days,
When love, only love, was the light of her ways;
And, soft as in moments of bliss long ago,

It whisper'd her name from the garden below.

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 sank on her pillow-but no, 'twas 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 may,
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.

CUPID AND PSYCHE

THEY told her that he, to whose vows she had listen'd
Through night's fleeting hours, was a Spirit unblest;-
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.

Entranc'd 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 flashed 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;

Dissolv'd are her spells when a doubt is but spoken,
And love, once distrusted, for ever is lost!"

HERO AND LEANDER.

"THE night-wind is moaning with mournful sigh, There gleameth no moon in the misty sky,

No star over Helle's sea;

Yet, yet, there is shining one holy light,
One love-kindled star through the deep of night,
To lead me, sweet Hero, to thee!"

Thus saying, he plunged in the foamy stream,
Still fixing his gaze on that distant beam
No eye but a lover's could see;

And still, as the surge swept over his head,
"To-night," he said tenderly, "living or dead,
Sweet Hero, I'll rest with thee!"

But fiercer around him the wild waves speed;
Oh, Love in that hour of thy votary's need,
Where, where could thy Spirit be?

He struggles-he sinks-while the hurricane's breath
Bears rudely away his last farewell in death-
"Sweet Hero, I die for thee!"

THE LEAF AND THE FOUNTAIN.

"TELL me, kind Seer, I pray thee,
So may the stars obey thee,

So may each airy

Moon-elf and fairy

Nightly their homage pay thee!

Say, by what spell, above, below,

In stars that wink or flow'rs that blow,

I may discover,

Ere night is over,

Whether my love loves me or no,

Whether my love loves me."

"Maiden, the dark tree nigh thee Hath charms no gold could buy thee; Its stem enchanted,

By moon-elves planted,

Will all thou seek'st supply thee.
Climb to yon bows that highest grow,

Bring thence their fairest leaf below;
And thou'lt discover,

Ere night is over,

Whether thy love loves thee or no,
Whether thy love loves thee."

"See, up the dark tree going,
With blossoms round me blowing,
From thence, oh Father,

This leaf I gather,
Fairest that there is growing.

Say, by what sign I now shall know
If in this leaf lie bliss or woe;

And thus discover,

Ere night is over,

Whether my love loves me or no,
Whether my love loves me."

"Fly to yon fount that's welling, Where moonbeam ne'er had dwelling, Dip in its water

That leaf, oh Daughter,

And mark the tale 'tis telling;

Watch thou if pale or bright it grow,

List thou, the while, that fountain's flow.
And thou'lt discover