Which ran beside the cypress tree,

Where their glad meetings wont to be.
She marked her eye's dim darkened blue,
The cheek which had forgot its hue
Of summer rose-the faded brow!
"Alas! he would not love me now!"
And hope departed from that hour-
But not with hope declined love's power;
It was changed to a mournful feeling,
The deeper from its deep concealing

Fond thoughts, and gentle prayers that strove
To make a piety of love..

And then there came a wish to die
Unknown, but still beneath his eye ;-
At first 'twas but a fear, a thought—
A dream of thousand fancies wrought;
It haunted still-at last she gave
Her tresses to the wind and wave:
Then as a page she sought his train,
And looked on RAYMOND's face again.
There was a revel held that night
In honour of the lady bright,

Who was next day, by RAYMOND's side,
To wear the white veil of a bride;
And from the gallery, CHRISTINE

Gazed with the crowd on that gay scene.
There were high dames, with raven curls
Falling from the snow wreath of pearls;

Fair arms on which the emerald shone,
And silver robe and ruby zone;

And feet that seemed but made to tread
Imprintless on the lily's head;

Laughs like glad music, as their all

Of life had been a festival.

And CHRISTINE marvelled that such mirth Could find a welcome upon earth.

She had been nursed 'mid forest trees,

And vineyards, birds, and flowers and bees;
And little had she learnt the task

To turn the false lip to a mask
Of sunshine and of smiles, to hide
The heart of bitterness and pride,

Like those gay coloured plants that wreath
Their blossoms on the snake beneath.

And suddenly the gorgeous room

Was filled with music, light, and bloom;
As the thrice fragrant air was filled
With waters from sweet leaves distilled;

As lighted up the perfumed flame
Of woods that from Arabia came.

And a rich sweep of music blent
From every mingled instrument;
And smile, and sigh, and bended brow,
Greeted the dame who entered now.

"Twas RAYMOND'S love: her braided hair
Was bright, for gems and gold were there.
CHRISTINE had sometimes feared to guess
Her rival's wealth of loveliness.

But now-oh, thus had RAYMOND sold
His heart, his once fond heart, for gold!
Oh! all but this she could have borne-
But not to feel for RAYMOND scorn.
She left the gallery; next day

A pilgrim at an altar lay.

The chapel hung with silk and flower,

Meet for LORD RAYMOND's bridal hour.-
A boy so wan, so delicate,

No marvel at his early fate!

A chain of gold lay on the shrine, And underneath a faultering line: "An offering for the happiness

Of him whom my

love could not bless."

All felt it was a woman's prayer

It was CHRISTINE had perished there!

L. E. L.

THE DEATH OF THE FIRST-BORN.

BY ALARIC A. WATTS.

Fare thee well, thou first and fairest !

Fare thee well, thou best and dearest !

I.

Burns.

My sweet one, my sweet one, the tears were in my

eyes,

When first I clasped thee to my heart, and heard thy

feeble cries ;

For I thought of all that I had borne as I bent me down to kiss

Thy cherry lips and sunny brow, my first-born bud of bliss!

II.

I turned to many a withered hope,-to years of grief

and pain,—

And the cruel wrongs of a bitter world flashed o'er my boding brain ;—

I thought of friends, grown worse than cold, of per

secuting foes,

And I asked of Heaven if ills like these must mar thy

youth's repose!

III.

I gazed upon thy quiet face-half blinded by my

tears

Till gleams of bliss, unfelt before, came brightening on my fears,

Sweet rays of hope that fairer shone 'mid the clouds of gloom that bound them,

As stars dart down their loveliest light when midnight skies are 'round them.

IV.

My sweet one, my sweet one, thy life's brief hour is

o'er,

And a father's anxious fears for thee can fever me no

more;

And for the hopes-the sun-bright hopes-that blossomed at thy birth,

They too have fled, to prove how frail are cherished things of earth!

V.

'Tis true that thou wert young, my child, but though brief thy span below,

To me it was a little age of agony and woe,

For, from thy first faint dawn of life thy cheek began

to fade,

And my heart had scarce thy welcome breathed ere my hopes were wrapt in shade.