With every beamy smile that cross'd

Your kindling cheek, you lighted home

Some feeling which my heart had lost,
And Peace, which long had learn'd to roam!

'Twas then indeed so sweet to live,

Hope look'd so new and love so kind,
That, though I weep, I still forgive
The ruin which they've left behind!

I could have loved you-oh, so well ;—
The dream that wishing boyhood knows,
Is but a bright, beguiling spell,

Which only lives while passion glows:

But, when this early flush declines,

When the heart's vivid morning fleets, You know not then how close it twines Round the first kindred soul it meets !

Yes, yes,

I could have loved, as one

Who, while his youth's enchantments fall,

Finds something dear to rest upon,

Which pays him for the loss of all!

DREAMS.

ΤΟ

In slumber, I prithee how is it

That souls are oft taking the air,

And paying each other a visit,

While bodies are-Heaven knows where?

Last night, 'tis in vain to deny it,

Your soul took a fancy to roam,

For I heard her, on tiptoe so quiet,
Come ask, whether mine was at home.

And mine let her in with delight,

And they talk'd and they kiss'd the time through, For, when souls come together at night,

There is no knowing what they mayn't do!

And your little Soul, Heaven bless her!
Had much to complain and to say,
Of how sadly you wrong and oppress her
By keeping her prison'd all day.

"If I happen," said she," but to steal
"For a peep now and then to her eye,

"Or, to quiet the fever I feel,

"Just venture abroad on a sigh ;

"In an instant, she frightens me in

"With some phantom of prudence or terror,

"For fear I should stray into sin,

"Or, what is still worse, into error!

"So, instead of displaying my graces,

"Through look, and through words, and through mien,

"I am

shut up in corners and places,

" Where truly I blush to be seen!"

Upon hearing this piteous confession,
My Soul, looking tenderly at her,
Declared, as for grace and discretion,

He did not know much of the matter;

"But, to-morrow, sweet Spirit!" he said,
"Be at home after midnight, and then
"I will come when your lady's in bed,
"And we'll talk o'er the subject again."

So she whisper'd a word in his ear,
I suppose to her door to direct him,
And-just after midnight, my dear,
Your polite little Soul may expect him.

TO MRS.

To see thee every day that came,
And find thee every day the same,
In pleasure's smile or sorrow's tear
The same benign, consoling Dear!
To meet thee early, leave thee late,
Has been so long my bliss, my fate,
That life, without this cheering ray,
Which came like sunshine every
day,

And all my pain, my sorrow chased,
Is now a lone and loveless waste.-
Where are the chords she used to touch ?
Where are the songs she loved so much?
The songs are hush'd, the chords are still,
And so, perhaps, will every thrill
Of friendship soon be lull'd to rest,
Which late I waked in Anna's breast!
Yet no-the simple notes I play'd
On memory's tablet soon may fade;

The

songs which Anna loved to hear,

May all be lost on Anna's ear;

But friendship's sweet and fairy strain
Shall ever in her heart remain ;
Nor memory lose nor time impair
The sympathies which tremble there!

Our voices keep tune and our oars keep time.

* I wrote these words to an air which our boat-men sung to us very frequently. The wind was so unfavourable that they were obliged to row all the way, and we were five days in descending the river from Kingston to Montreal, exposed to an intense sun during the day, and at night forced to take shelter from the dews in any miserable hut upon the banks that would receive us. But the magnificent scenery of the St. Lawrence repays all these difficulties.

Our Voyageurs had good voices, and sung perfectly in tune together. The original words of the air, to which I adapted these stanzas, appeared to be a long, incoherent story, of which I could understand but little, from the barbarous pronunciation of the Canadians. It begins,

Dans mon chemin j'ai rencontré

Deux cavaliers très-bien montés;

And the refrain to every verse was,

VOL. II.

12