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Melodia! oh, how soft thy darts,
How tender and how sweet!

Thy song enchained a thousand hearts,
And drew them to thy feet;

And, as thy bright lips sang, they caught
So beautiful a ray,

That, as I gazed, I almost thought
The spirit of thy lay

Had left, while melting on the air,
Its sweet expression painted there.

Sweet vision of that starry even!
Thy virgin beauty yet,

Next to the blessed hope of heaven,
Is in my spirit set.

It is a something, shrined apart,

A light from memory shed,
To live until this tender heart,
Of which it lives, is dead-
Reminding me of brighter hours,
Of summer eves and summer flowers.

SHE COMES TO ME.

SHE comes to me in robes of snow,
The friend of all my sinless years-
Even as I saw her long ago,

Before she left this vale of tears.

She comes to me in robes of snow-
She walks the chambers of my rest,
With soundless footsteps, sad and slow,
That wake no echo in my breast.

I see her in my visions yet,

I see her in my waking hours; Upon her pale, pure brow is set

A crown of azure hyacinth flowers.

Her golden hair waves round her face, And o'er her shoulders gently falls: Each ringlet hath the nameless grace My spirit yet on earth recalls.

And, bending o'er my lowly bed,
She murmurs-"Oh, fear not to die!-
For thee an angel's tears are shed,
An angel's feast is spread on high.

"Come, then, and meet the joy divine
That features of the spirits wear:
A fleeting pleasure here is thine-
An angel's crown awaits thee there.
"Listen! it is a choral hymn❞—

And, gliding softly from my couch,
Her spirit-face waxed faint and dim,

Her white robes vanished at my touch.
She leaves me with her robes of snow-
Hushed is the voice that used to thrill
Around the couch of pain and woe-
She leaves me to my darkness still.

THE ECHO.

FOR ever thine! when hills and seas divide,
When storms combine;

From west wind's sigh, or deserts part us wide-
For ever thine!

In the gay circle of the proud saloon,

Whose splendour shine;

In the lone of the evening moon-
For ever thine!

And when the light of song, that fires me now,
Shall life resign,

My breaking heart shall breathe its last vow,
For ever thine!

THE HOME OF LOVE.

THOU movest in visions, Love! Around thy way
E'en through this world's rough path and changeful day
For ever floats a gleam,

Not from the realms of moonlight or the morn,
But thine own soul's illumined chambers borne.-
The colouring of a dream!

Love, shall I read thy dream ?-oh! is it not
All of some sheltering wood-embosom'd spot-
A bower for thee and thine?

Yes! lone and lovely is that home; yet there
Something of heaven in the transparent air
Makes every flower divine.

Something that mellows and that glorifies,
Breathes o'er it ever from the tender skies,
As o'er some blessed isle;
E'en like the soft and spiritual glow
Kindling rich woods whereon th' ethereal bow
Sleeps lovingly awhile.

The

very whispers of the wind have there, A flute-like harmony, that seems to bear Greeting from some bright shore,

Where none have said Farewell!-where no decay
Lends the faint crimson to the dying day!
Where the storm's might is o'er.

And there thou dreamest of Elysian rest,
In the deep sanctuary of one true breast,
Hidden from earthly ill :

There wouldst thou watch the homeward step whose sound Wakening all Nature to sweet echoes round,

Thine inmost soul can thrill.

There by the hearth should many a glorious page,
From mind to mind th' immortal heritage,

For thee its treasures pour :
Or music's voice at vesper hours be heard,
Or dearer interchange of playful word,
Affection's household lore.

And the rich unison of mingled prayer,
The melody of hearts in heavenly air,
Thence duly should arise;

Lifting th' eternal hope, th' adoring breath,
Of spirits, not to be disjoin'd by death,
Up to the starry skies.

There dost thou well believe, no storm should come
To mar the stillness of that angel home;-

There should thy slumbers be

Weigh'd down with honey-dew, serenely blest,
Like theirs who first in Eden's grove took rest
Under some balmy tree.

Love! Love! thou passionate in joy and woe!
And canst thou hope for cloudless peace below-
Here, where bright things must die?

Oh! thou, that, wildly worshipping, dost shed
On the frail altar of a mortal head

Gifts of infinity!

Thou must be still a rambler, fearful Love!
Danger seems gathering from beneath, above,
Still round thy precious things;

Thy stately pine-tree, or thy gracious rose,
In their sweet shade can yield thee no repose,
Here, where the blight hath wings.

And, as a flower with some fine sense imbued,
To shrink before the wind's vicissitude,

So in thy prescient breast

Are lyre-strings quivering with prophetic thrill
To the low footstep of each coming ill;

-Oh! canst thou dream of coming rest?

Bear up thy dream: thou mighty and thou weak!
Heart strong as death, yet as a reed to break:
As a flame, tempest-sway'd!

He that sits calm on high is yet the source
Whence thy soul's current hath its troubled course,
He that great deep hath made!

Will He not pity? He, whose searching eye
Reads all the secrets of thine agony ?—

O! pray to be forgiven

Thy fond idolatry, thy blind excess,

And seek with Him that bower of blessedness:Love thy sole home is heaven!

IDA'S FAREWELL.

"WE part for ever!" Silent be our parting!
Let not a word its sacred grief profane!
Heart pressed to heart, with not a tear upstarting-
An age of anguish in that moment's pain!

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'Tis just and right. It is our crown of sorrow,"
Bravely we'll meet it as becomes our love-
A love so strong, so pure, it well may borrow
Bright wings to waft it to the joy above.

We part for ever!-o'er my soul in sadness
No more the music of thy voice shall glide
Low with deep feeling, till a passionate gladness
Thrilled to each tone, and in wild tears replied.
No more thy light caressing touch shall charm me,
With its dear magic on my lifted brow:

No more thy pen of fire shall pour to charm me,
The poet-passion of thy fervent vow!

We part for ever! Proud shall be the story
Of hearts that hid affection fond as ours-
The joy that veiled the universe in glory
Fades with thy presence from her skies and flowers.
The soul that answered, like the sun-touched lyre,
To thy dear smile-to every tone of thine,
Henceforth is hushed, with all its faith-its fire,
Till thou rewaken it in realms divine!

We part for ever! Ah, this world's for ever-
What is its fleetness unto hearts so strong?
Here in our worldless agony we sever:

There we shall meet where love will be no wrong.
"In Paradise!" Dost thou e'er dream as I, love,
Of that sweet life when all the truth-the grace-
All the soft melodies, in our souls that sigh, love,
Shall make the light and beauty of the place?
We meet for ever! Tenderly lamenting

The wild dear weakness of our earthly day,
Beneath the passionate tears of that repenting,
What luminous flowers shall spring to bless our way!

And for all tuneful tones our love revealing,
Some bird or rill shall wake in sweet reply;

And every sigh of pity or of feeling

Shall call a cloud of rose-light from the sky.

To thy rare, gorgeous fantasies resounding,

Rich palaces, 'mid wondrous scenes shall rise;
To thy proud harp's impassioned tones resounding,
The minstrel wind shall play its wild replies.

Visions of unimagined grace and splendour,
For ever changing round thy rapturous way,
Now beauteous sculpture bathed in moonlight tender,
Now radiant paintings to thy wish shall play.

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