There lives Who loves him!-loves and loved That Love with countenance unremoved That Love, all Wisdom and all Power, Though I were dust, would guard him still, And, faithful at the last dread hour, Stand near him, whispering, "Fear no ill!" VII. "Fear not to love; nor deem thy soul too slight Great Love shall teach thee how to love aright, "Fear not, O maid! nor doubt lest wedded life Thy childhood's heavenward yearnings blot or blur; "All love is Sacrifice-a flame that still Illumes, yet cleanses as with fire, the breast: Thus spake the hermit from his stony chair; Then long time watched her speeding towards her home, As when a dove through sunset's roseate air Sails to her nest o'er crag and ocean's foam. VIII. "We knew thee from thy childhood, princely maid; "Good-will was thine, like fount that overflows Its marge, and clothes with green the thirsty sod: Good thoughts, like angels, from thy bosom rose, And winged through golden airs their way to God. "To Goodness, Reverence, Honor, from the first Thy soul was vowed. It was that spiritual troth That fitted maid for wife, and in her nursed The woman's heart--not years nor outward growth. "Walk with the holy women praised of old Who served their God and sons heroic bore:-" Thus sang the minstrels, touching harps of gold While maidens wreathed with flowers the bridal door. IX. "Holy was love at first, all true, all fair, Virtue's bright crown, and Honor's mystic feast, Purer than snows, more sweet than morning air, More rich than roses in the kindling east. "Then were the hearts of lovers blithe and glad, And steeped in freshness like a dew-drenched fleece: Then glittered marriage like a cloud sun-clad Or flood that feeds the vale with boon increase "Then in its innocence great love was strong- "With hope's clear anthem then the valleys rang; With songs celestial thrilled the household bowers :—" Thus to the newly wed the minstrels sang As home they paced, while children scattered flowers. X. Circling in upper airs we met, Singing God's praise, and spring-tide new : On two glad spirits fell one net Inwoven of sunbeams and of dew. One song we sang; at first I thought XI. Life of my better life! this day with thee With thee I gaze in awe, yet gaze in power. Love first, then Fame, illumed that bygone night: Now breaks the morn eternal, broad and bright; Sweet, we must suffer! Joys, thou said'st, like these Shall that be suffering named which crowns and frees ? Never were bridal rites more deeply dear Than when of old to bridegroom and to bride That Pagan Empire cried, " False gods revere !"— They turned; they kissed each other; and they died. XII. Fair is this land through which we ride A mountain land through virtue bold, The hermit's grot her gorges guard— The patriarch's tomb. There snowy dome And granite ridges sweet with nard O'er-gaze and fence the patriot's home. No realm of river-mouth and pelf; When down that Moslem deluge rolled, The Faith, enthroned 'mid ruins, sat Here, in her Lebanonian hold, Firm as the ark on Ararat. War still is hers, though loving peace; For trenchant is the Moslem sword. XIII. Alas! that sufferer weak and wan We found upon our gallery floor! How long she gasped upon my breast! We bathed her brows in wine and myrrh ; How death-like sank at last to rest While rose the sun! I feared to stir. All night I heard our bridal bells That chimed so late o'er springing corn: Half changed they seemed to funeral knellsShe, too, had had her bridal morn! Revived she woke. The pang was past: Oh! what a look was that she cast, XIV. High on the hills the nuptial feast was spread: From vale and plain came up the revellers' shout: Maidens with maidens danced, and men with men ; Till, one by one, the festal fires burned out By lonely waters. There was silence then. Keen flashed the stars, with breath that came and went, ASSUNTA HOWARD. III. IN EXTREMIS. How slowly and drearily the time drags on, through all the weary length of hours and days, in a household where one has suddenly been stricken down from full life and health to the unconscious delirium of fever-when in hushed silence and with folded hands the watchers surround the sufferer with a loving anxiety; whose agony is in their helplessness to stay for one moment the progress of the disease, which seems possessed of a fiendlike consciousness of its own fatal power to destroy; when life and death hang in the balance, and at any moment the scale may turn, and in its turning may gladden loving hearts or break them; and, oh! above and beyond all, when through the clouding of the intellect no ray from the clear light of faith penetrates the soul, and the prostrate body, stretched upon its cross, fails to discern the nearness of that other cross upon this Calvary of suffering, from which flows in perennial streams the fountain of salvation! Oh! if in the ears, heedless of earthly sounds and words, there could be whispered those blessed words from Divine lips, "This day thou shalt be with me," what heart that loves would not rejoice even in its anguish, and unselfishly exclaim, "Depart, O Christian soul! I will even crush down my poor human love, lest its great longing should turn thy happy soul away from the contem plation of its reward, exceeding great-to be in Paradise, to be with Christ"? But, alas! there were two crucified within reach of those precious, saving drops, and one alone said, "Lord, remember me." When the family of Mr. Carlisle first realized that the master of the house had indeed been prostrated by the fever which had proved so fatal in its ravages, they were stunned with surprise and grief. It was just the calamity, of all others the least expected, the heaviest to endure. Mrs. Grey's affection for her brother was the deepest sentiment of her superficial nature, and for the time she was bowed down with sorrow; which, however, constantly found vent in words amd tears. She would rise from it soon, but not until the emergency had passed. She lived only in the sunshine; she lost herself when the clouds gathered. Assunta was the first to recover her calmness and presence of mind. Necessity made her strong; not so much for the sake of the sick man-that might come by and by-but for his sister, who clung to the young girl as to the last plank from the shipwreck of her bright, happy life. The physician was in constant attendance, and at the first he had proposed sending a nurse. But the faithful Giovanni had pleaded with much earnestness to be allowed the |