I will not bid thy spirit stay, Nor link to earth those glittering wings, That burst like light away! I know that thou art gone to dwell · In the sunny home of the fresh day beam, Before Decay's unpitying tread Hath crept upon the dearest dream That ever came and fled; Fare thee well, fare thee well; And go thy way, all pure and fair, And wander there with the spirits of air, "Fare thee well, fare thee well! Too sad to let me smile! Fare thee well, fare thee well! I know that heaven for thee is won; And yet I feel I would resign Whole ages of my life, for oneOne little hour, of thine! "Fare thee well, fare thee well! See, I have been to the sweetest bowers, The violet and the blue harebell, And one frail rose in its earliest bloom ;' Fare ye well, fare ye well! Sieep, sleep, my love, in fragrant shade, A fairer flower shall never fade, Nor a fonder heart be broken!" THE LEGEND OF THE TEUFEL-HAUS. THE way was lone, and the hour was late, The night came down, by slow degrees, For the sinking sun, or the rising gale; For he, as he rode, was dreaming now, Poor youth, of a woman's broken vow, Of the cup dashed down, ere the wine was tasted, Of a gallant heart all burnt to ashes, And the Baron of Katzberg's long mustaches. Make men extremely deaf and blind. ་ At last he opened his great blue eyes, And looking about in vast surprise, Found that his hunter had turned his back, An hour ago on the beaten track, And now was threading a forest hoar, "By Cæsar's head," Sir Rudolph said, If I to-night should make my bed Now, for thy sake, good roan, I would we were beneath a roof, Were it the foul fiend's own!" Ere the tongue could rest, ere the lips could close, It was not the scream of a merry boy Nor the roar of a Yorkshire clown;—oh, no! Half uttered, perhaps, and stifled half, Such as my uncle Peter's are, When he tells you his tales of Dr. Parr. With something of marvel, and more of fright: ! But brighter gleamed his anxious eye, When a light shone out from a hill hard by. As Mrs. Maquill's delighted lad, When he turns away from the Pleas of the Crown, For Mrs. Camac's in Mansfield Street. At a lofty gate Sir Rudolph halted; Down from his seat Sir Rudolph vaulted: And he blew a blast with might and main, On the bugle that hung by an iron chain. The sound called up a score of sounds;— The screeching of owls, and the baying of hounds, The hollow toll of the turret bell, The call of the watchful sentinel, And a groan at last, like a peal of thunder, And said, "You're just in time for supper!" |