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WE MET WHEN LIFE AND HOPE

WERE NEW.

BY ALARIC A. WATTS.

1.

We met when life and hope were new,

When all we looked on smiled ;-
And Fancy's wand around us threw

Enchantments-sweet as wild !-
Ours were the light and bounding hearts

The world had yet to wring ;-
The bloom—that when it once departs,

Can know no second spring !

II.
What though our love was never told, -

Or breathed in sighs alone;
By signs that would not be controlled,

Its growing strength was shown :-
The touch, that thrilled us with delight;

The glance — by art untamed;
In one short moon, as brief as bright,

That tender truth proclaimed !

266 WE MET WHEN LIFE AND HOPE WERE NEW.

III.

We parted, chilling looks among ;

My inmost soul was bowed;
And blessings died upon my tongue,

I dared not breathe aloud :-
A pensive smile, serene and bland,

One thrilling glance—how vain !
A pressure of thy yielding hand ;-

We never met again!

IV.
Yet still a spell was in thy name,

Of magic power to me;
That bade me strive for wealth and fame,

To make me worthy thee !
And long, through many an after-year,

When boyhood's dream had flown,
With nothing left to hope or fear,

I loved, in silence, on!

v.
More sacred ties, at length, are ours,

As dear as those of yore;
And later joys, like autumn-flowers,

Have bloomed for us once more !
But never canst thou be again,

What once thou wert to me;-
I glory in another's chain,-

And thou 'rt no longer free.

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Lone, inaccessible, forbidden steep,
Conqueror of storms and centuries art thou;
Implanting thy foundation in the deep,
And hiding in the cloud thy furrowed brow!
What feathered myriads round thee wheel their flight,
And to the thunder of the waves below
In hoarse defiance scream. The winter's night,
The summer's noontide, are alike to thee,--
Wreck of the deluge,-ocean's eremite,
Majestic symbol of eternity!
For what are time, or earthquake, what the power
Of howling tempest, or beleaguering sea ?
Thy date and place are from creation's hour,
Till heaven dissolve, and flames the globe devour.

REGULUS.

BY THE REV. THOMAS DALE.

Urge me no more—your prayers are vain,

And vain the tears ye shed:
When I can lead to Rome again,

The bands that once I led;
When I can raise your legions, slain
On swarthy Lybia's fatal plain,

To vengeance from the dead;
Then will I seek once more a home,
And lift a freeman's voice in Rome !

II.
Accursed moment! when I woke

From faintness all but death;
And felt the coward conqueror's yoke

Like venomed serpents wreathe
Round every limb;—if lip and eye .
Betrayed no sign of agony,

Inly I cursed my breath ;Wherefore, of all that fought, was I The only wretch who could not die?

III.
To darkness and to chains consigned,

The captive's fitting doom,
I recked not ;—could they chain the mind,

Or plunge the soul in gloom?
And there they left me, dark and lone,
Till darkness had familiar grown;

Then from that living tomb
They led me forth–I thought, to die-
0, in that thought was ecstasy!

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But no;—kind Heaven had yet in store

For me, a conquered slave,
A joy I thought to feel no more,

Or feel but in the grave.
They deemed, perchance, my haughtier mood
Was quelled by chains and solitude;

That he who once was brave-
Was I not brave !- had now become
Estranged from honour as from Rome.

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They bade me to my country bear

The offers these have borne ;They would have trained my lips to swear, Which never yet have sworn:

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