A flower its leaves and odors cast
On a swift rolling wave;

Th' unheeding torrent darkly pass'd,
And back no treasure gave.
-Oh! heart of love!

Waste not thy precious dower
Turn to thine only home above,
Be not like that lost flower!
Not like that flower!

SISTER! SINCE I MET THEE LAST.
SISTER! Since I met thee last,
O'er thy brow a change hath past,
In the softness of thine eyes,
Deep and still a shadow lies;

From thy voice there thrills a tone,
Never to thy childhood known;
Through thy soul a storm hath moved,
-Gentle sister, thou hast loved!

Yes! thy varying cheek hath caught
Hues too bright from troubled thought;
Far along the wandering stream,
Thou art follow'd by a dream :
In the woods and valleys lone
Music haunts thee, not thine own:
Wherefore fall thy tears like rain?
-Sister, thou hast loved in vain!
Tell me not the tale, my flower!
On my bosom pour that shower!
Tell me not of kind thoughts wasted;
Tell me not of young hopes blasted;
Wring not forth one burning word,
Let thy heart no more be stirr❜d!
Home alone can give thee rest.
-Weep, sweet sister, on my breast!

THE LONELY BIRD.

FROM a ruin thou art singing,
Oh! lonely, lonely bird!

The soft blue air is ringing

By thy summer music stirr'd;

But all is dark and cold beneath,

Where harps no more are heard:

Whence winn'st thou that exulting breath,

Oh! lonely, lonely bird?

Thy song flows richly swelling,

To a triumph of glad sounds,

DIRGE AT SEA.-ETC.

As from its cavern dwelling

A stream in glory bounds!

Though the castle echoes catch no tone
Of human step or word,

415

Though the fires be quench'd and the feasting done,
Oh! lonely, lonely bird!

How can that flood of gladness

Rush through that fiery lay,

From the haunted place of sadness

From the bosom of decay?

While dirge-notes on the breeze's moan,

Through the ivy garlands heard,

Come blent with thy rejoicing tone,

Oh! lonely, lonely bird!

There's many a heart, wild singer,
Like thy forsaken tower,
Where joy no more may linger,
Where love hath left his bower:

And there's many a spirit e'en like thee,
To mirth as lightly stirr'd,

Though it soar from ruins in its glee,
Oh! lonely, lonely bird!

PILGRIM'S SONG TO THE EVENING STAR
O SOFT star of the west!
Gleaming far,

Thou'rt guiding all things home,

Gentle star!

Thou bring'st from rock and wave,
The sea-bird to her nest,
The hunter from the hills,
The fisher back to rest,
Light of a thousand streams,
Gleaming far!

O soft star of the west,
Blessed star!

No bowery roof is mine,

No hearth of love and rest,
Yet guide me to my shrine,
O soft star of the west!
There, there my home shall be
Heaven's dew shall cool my breast,
When prayer and tear gush free,
O soft star of the west!

O soft star of the west,
Gleaming far!

Thou'rt guiding all things home,
Gentle star!

Shine from thy rosy heaven,
Pour joy on earth and sea!
Shine on, though no sweet eyes
Look forth to watch for me!
Light of a thousand streams,
Gleaming far!

O soft star of the west!

Blessed star!

THE MEETING OF THE SHIPS.

"We take each other by the hand, and we exchange a few words and looks of kindness, and we rejoice together for a few short moments; and then days, months, years intervene, and we see and know nothing of each other."-Washington Irving.

Two barks met on the deep mid-sea,
When calms had still'd the tide ;
A few bright days of summer glee
There found them side by side.

And voices of the fair and brave
Rose mingling thence in mirth;
And sweetly floated o'er the wave
The melodies of earth.

Moonlight on that lone Indian main
Cloudless and lovely slept;

While dancing step, and festive strain
Each deck in triumph swept.

And hands were link'd, and answering eyes

With kindly meaning shone;

Oh! brief and passing sympathies,

Like leaves together blown.

COME AWAY.-ETC.

A little while such joy was cast
Over the deep's repose,

Till the loud singing winds at last
Like trumpet music rose.

And proudly, freely on their way
The parting vessels bore;
In calm or storm, by rock or bay,
To meet-oh, never more!
Never to blend in victory's cheer,
To aid in hours of woe;

And thus bright spirits mingle here,
Such ties are formed below.

COME AWAY.

COME away!-the child where flowers are springing,
Round its footsteps on the mountain slope,
Hears a glad voice from the upland singing,
Like the skylark's with its tone of hope;
Come away!

Bounding on, with sunny lands before him,
All the wealth of glowing life outspread,
Ere the shadow of a cloud comes o'er him,
By that strain the youth in joy is led ;
Come away!

Slowly, sadly, heavy change is falling
O'er the sweetness of the voice within ;.
Yet its tones, on restless manhood calling,
Urge the hunter still to chase, to win :
Come away!

Come away!-the heart, at last forsaken,
Smile by smile, hath proved each hope untrue;
Yet a breath can still those words awaken,
Though to other shores far hence they woo:
Come away!

In the light leaves, in the reed's faint sighing,
In the low sweet sounds of early spring,
Still their music wanders-till the dying
Hears them pass, as on a spirit's wing:
Come away!

FAIR HELEN OF KIRCONNEL.

417

'Fair Helen of Kirconnel," as she is called in the Scottish Minstrelsy, throwing herself between her betrothed lover and a rival by whom his life was assailed, received a mortal wound, and died in the arms of the former.]

HOLD me upon thy faithful heart,
Keep back my flitting breath;

'Tis early, early to depart,
Beloved!-yet this is death!

Look on me still :-let that kind eye
Be the last light I see!

Oh! sad it is in spring to die,

But yet I die for thee!

For thee, my own! thy stately head
Was never thus to bow-

Give tears when with me love hath fled,
True love, thou know'st it now!

Oh the free streams look'd bright, where'er
We in our gladness roved;

And the blue skies were very fair

O friend! because we loved.

Farewell!-I bless thee-live thou on,

When this young heart is low! Surely my blood thy life hath wonClasp me once more-I go !

MUSIC FROM SHORE.

A SOUND comes on the rising breeze,
A sweet and lovely sound!
Piercing the tumult of the seas
That wildly dash around.

From land, from sunny land it comes,
From hills with murmuring trees,
From paths by still and happy homes
That sweet sound on the breeze.

Why should its faint and passing sigh
Thus bid my quick pulse leap?
No part in earth's glad melody
Is mine upon the deep.

Yet blessing, blessing on the spot
Whence those rich breathings flow!

Kind hearts, although they know me not,
Like mine there beat and glow.

And blessing, from the bark that roams

O'er solitary seas,

To those that far in happy homes

Give sweet sounds to the breeze!

LOOK ON ME WITH THY CLOUDLESS EYES.

Look on me with thy cloudless eyes,

Truth in their dark transparence lies;