6

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

Whether thy lover,

Lov'd as he is, loves thee or no,

Lov'd as he is, loves thee."

Forth flew the nymph, delighted,

To seek that fount benighted;

But, scarce a minute

The leaf lay in it,

When, lo, its bloom was blighted!

And as she ask'd, with voice of woeList'ning, the while, that fountain's flow"Shall I recover

My truant lover?"

The fountain seem'd to answer No;"
The fountain answered, "No."

CEPHALUS AND PROCRIS.

A HUNTER once in that grove reclin'd
To shun the noon's bright eye,
And oft he woo'd the wandering wind,
To cool his brow with its sigh.

While mute lay ev'n the wild bee's hum,

Nor breath could stir the aspen's hair, His song was still "Sweet air, oh come!" While Echo answer'd, "Come, sweet Air!"

But, hark, what sounds from the thicket rise! What meaneth that rustling spray?

'Tis the white-horn'd doe," the Hunter cries, "I have sought since break of day," Quick o'er the sunny glade he springs, The arrow flies from his sounding bow, "Hilliho-hilliho!" he gaily sings, While Echo sighs forth "Hilliho!"

Alas, 'twas not the white-horn'd doe
He saw in the rustling grove,
But the bridal veil, as pure as snow,
Of his own young wedded love.
And, ah, too sure that arrow sped,

For pale at his feet he sees her lie;—

"I die, I die," was all she said,

While Echo murmur'd, "I die, I die!"

YOUTH AND AGE.

"TELL me, what's Love?" said Youth, one day,
To drooping Age, who crost his way.-
"It is a sunny hour of play,

For which repentance dear doth pay;
Repentance Repentance!

And this is Love, as wise men say."

"Tell me, what's Love?" said Youth once more,

Fearful, yet fond. of Age's lore.

"Soft as a passing summer's wind:

Would'st know the blight it leaves behind?

Repentance! Repentance!

And this is Love-when love is o'er."

"Tell me, what's Love?" said Youth again,
Trusting the bliss, but not the pain.—
"Sweet as a May tree's scented air-
Mark ye what bitter fruit 'twill bear,
Repentance! Repentance!

This is Love-sweet Youth, beware."

Just then, young Love himself came by,
And cast on Youth a smiling eye;
Who could resist that glance's ray?
In vain did Age his warning say,
"Repentance! Repentance!"
Youth laughing went with Love away.

THE DYING WARRIOR.

A WOUNDED Chieftain, lying
By the Danube's leafy side,

Thus faintly said, in dying,
"Oh! bear, thou foaming tide,
This gift to my lady-bride."

Twas then, in life's last quiver,
He flung the scarf he wore
Into the foaming river,

Which, ah too quickly, bore
That pledge of one no more!

With fond impatience burning,
The Chieftain's lady stood,
To watch her love returning
In triumph down the flood,
From that day's field of blood.

But, field, alas, ill-fated!

The lady saw, instead

Of the bark whose speed she waited,
Her hero's scarf, all red

With the drops his heart had shed.

One shriek--and all was over-
Her life-pulse ceas'd to beat;

The gloomy waves now cover
That bridal-flower so sweet,

And the scarf is her winding sheet!

THE MAGIC MIRROR.

"COME, if thy magic Glass have pow'r
To call up forms we sigh to see;
Show me my love, in that rosy bow'r,
Where last she pledg'd her truth to me."

The Wizard show'd him his Lady bright, Where lone and pale in her bow'r she lay; "True-hearted maid," said the happy Knight,

She's thinking of one, who is far away."