Brightly thine eye was smiling, Sweet!
But now Decay hath still'd its glancing ;
Warmly thy little heart was dancing,
But it hath ceased to beat!

A few short months-and thou wert here!

Hope sat upon thy youthful brow;

And what is thy memorial now?

A Flower-and a Tear.

SONNET TO ADA.

THE touching pathos of thy low sweet voice
Fell on my heart, like dew on wither'd flowers,
And brought such memory of departed hours
As made me weep-yet in my tears rejoice.
For one I loved-now lost to me for ever-
Breathed even so the soul of melody,

And since that voice has perish'd—never, never,
Till I heard thine, such sounds had greeted me.
E'en now thy tones, recall'd by night and day,
Linger in Memory's echo-haunted cell,

Thrilling sweet

agony : nor know I well

Whether to chide them, or to bid them stay.

At times I scarce can bear the pain'd regret

Which they excite-then cry, O do not leave me yet!

STAND on a funeral mound,

Far, far from all that love thee;

With a barren heath around,

And a cypress bower above thee: And think, while the sad wind frets,

And the night in cold gloom closes, Of spring, and spring's sweet violets, Of summer, and summer's roses.

II.

Sleep where the thunders fly

Across the tossing billow;

Thy canopy the sky,

And the lonely deck thy pillow:

And dream, while the chill sea-foam

In mockery dashes o'er thee,

Of the cheerful hearth, and the quiet home, And the kiss of her that bore thee.

III.

Watch in the deepest cell

Of the foeman's dungeon tower,

Till hope's most cherished spell
Has lost its cheering power;

And sing, while the galling chain
On every stiff limb freezes,

Of the huntsman hurrying o'er the plain,

Of the breath of the mountain breezes.

IV.

Talk of the minstrel's lute,

The warrior's high endeavour,

When the honied lips are mute,

And the strong arm crushed for ever:

Look back to the summer sun,

From the mist of dark December;

Then say to the broken-hearted one,

""Tis pleasant to remember!"

TELL HIM I LOVE HIM YET.

TELL him, I love him yet,

Ah, in that joyous time!

Tell him, I ne'er forget,

Though memory now be crime.

Tell him, when fades the light
Upon the earth and sea,

I dream of him by night

He must not dream of me!

Green, green upon his brow

The laurel wreath shall be

Although that laurel now

Must not be shared with me!

Tell him to smile again

In pleasure's dazzling throng,

To wear another's chain,

To praise another's song!

Before the loveliest there,

I'd have him bend the knee,