IHE BRIDGE OF SIGHS.

"Drowned! drowned!"-HAMLET

ONE more Unfortunate,

Weary of breath,
Rashly importunate,
Gone to her death!

Take her up tenderly,
Lift her with care;-
Fashion'd so slenderly,
Young, and so fair!

Look at her garments
Clinging like cerements;
ht the wave constantly
Drips from her clothing
Take her up instantly,
Loving, not loathing.—

Touch her not scornfully;
Think of her mournfully,
Gently and humanly;
Not of the stains of her,
All that remains of her
Now, is pure womanly.

Make no deep scrutiny
Into her mutiny
Rash and undutiful;

Past all dishonor,

Death has left on her

Only the beautiful.

Still, for all slips of hers,

One of Eve's family

Wipe those poor lips of hers Oozing so clammily.

Loop up her tresses

Escaped from the comb, Her fair auburn tresses; Whilst wonderment guesses Where was her home?

Who was her father?

Who was her mother?

Had she a sister?

Had she a brother?

Or was there a dearer one

Still, and a nearer one

Yet, than all other?

Alas! for the rarity
Of Christian charity
Under the sun!
Oh! it was pitiful!
Near a whole city full,

Home she had none.

Sisterly, brotherly,

Fatherly, motherly,

Feelings had changed:

Love, by harsh evidence,

Thrown from its eminence;

Even God's providence
Seeming estranged.

Where the lamps quiver
So far in the river,

With many a light

From window and casement, From garret to basement, She stood, with amazement, Houseless by night.

The bleak wind of March
Made her tremble and shiver;
But not the dark arch,
Or the black flowing river:
Mad from life's history,
Glad to death's mystery,
Swift to be hurl'd-
Anywhere, anywhere
Out of the world!

In she plunged boldly,
No matter how coldly
The rough river ran,—
Over the brink of it,
Picture it,-think of it,

Dissolute Man!

Lave in it, drink of it

Then, if you can!

Take her up tenderly,
Lift her with care;
Fashion'd so slenderly,
Young, and so fair!

Ere her limbs frigidly

Stiffen too rigidly,
Decently, kindly,-

Smoothe, and compose them i

Ana her eyes, close them,

Staring so blindly!

Dreadfully staring

Through muddy impurity,

As when with the daring
Last look of despairing
Fixed on futurity.

Perishing gloomily,
Spurred by contumely,
Cold inhumanity,
Burning insanity,
Into her rest.-

Cross her hands humbly,
As if praying dumbly,
Over her breast!

Owning her weakness,
Her evil behavior,

And leaving, with meekness,
Her sins to her Saviour!

THE LADY'S DREAM.

THE lady lay in her bed,

Her couch so warm and soft,

But her sleep was restless and broken still;
For turning often and oft

From side to side, she muttered and moan'd
And toss'd her arms aloft.

At last she started up,

And gazed on the vacant air, With a look of awe, as if she saw

Some dreadful phantom there

And then in the pillow she buried her face
From visions ill to bear.

The very curtain shook,

Her terror was so extreme,

And the light that fell on the broidered quilt

Kept a tremulous gleam;

And her voice was hollow, and shook as she cried,

"Oh me! that awful dream!

That weary, weary walk,

In the churchyard's dismal ground!

And those horrible things, with shady wings,

That came and flitted round,

Death, death, and nothing but death,

In every sight and sound!