Ne'er hath a beam

Been lost in the stream

That ever was shed from thy form or soul;
The spell of those eyes,

The balm of thy sighs,

Still float on the surface, and hallow my bowl. Then fancy not, dearest, that wine can steal One blissful dream of the heart from me; Like founts that awaken the pilgrim's zeal, The bowl but brightens my love for thee.

They tell us that Love in his fairy bower
Had two blush-roses, of birth divine;
He sprinkled the one with a rainbow's shower,
But bath'd the other with mantling wine.
Soon did the buds

That drank of the floods.

Distill'd by the rainbow, decline and fade;

While those which the tide

Of ruby had dy'd

All blush'd into beauty, like thee, sweet maid! Then fancy not, dearest, that wine can steal One blissful dream of the heart from me; Like founts, that awaken the pilgrim's zeal, The bowl but brightens my love for thee.

RICHES-CO

At the mid hour of Night.

At the mid hour of night, when stars are weeping, I fly To the lone vale we lov'd, when life shone warm in thine eye; And I think oft, if spirits can steal from the regions of

air,

To revisit past scenes of delight, thou wilt come to me

there,

And tell me our love is remember'd, even in the sky.

Then I sing the wild song 't was once such pleasure to hear! When our voices commingling breath'd, like one, on the ear; And, as Echo far off through the vale my sad orison rolls,

I think, oh my love! 'tis thy voice from the Kingdom of Souls,""

Faintly answering still the notes that once were so dear.