Father-Father-I confess

He's my beauty's thrall, In the lonely wilderness,

In the festive hall;

All his dreams are aye of me,

Since our young hearts met;

What my own may sometimes beFather-I forget!

Ora pro me!

LAST WORDS.

I.

FARE thee well, love, fare thee well! From the world I pass away,

Where the brightest things that dwell

All deceive, and all decay;

Cheerfully I fall asleep,

As by some mysterious spell;

Yet I weep, to see thee weep;

Fare thee well, love,-fare thee well!

II.

Tell of me, love, tell of me !

Not amid the heartless throng;
Not where Passion bends the knee,-
Not where Pleasure trills the song ;

But when some most cherished one
By your side at eve shall be,
Ere your twilight tales are done,
Tell of me, love,―tell of me!

III.

Leave me now, love,-leave me now!
Not with sorrow, not with sighs;
Not with clouds, love, on thy brow,

Not with tears, love, in thine eyes;
We shall meet, we know not where,
And be blest, we dream not how;
With a kiss, and with a prayer,

Leave me now, love,-leave me now!

APRIL, 1832.

THE RUNAWAY.

I.

DARK clouds are shading
The day, the day;
Sunlight is fading

Away,—away ;

I've won from the warden

The key, the key,

And the steed's in the garden

For me, for me.