Hath gazed upon the more than mortal tears,
Or listened to the melancholy hymn

Of some lone fairy,-while her sisters played
Upon "the beached margent of the sea."—
But gone for ever gone-from shore and glade,
Elfin and fay, that haunted stream and tree,
Back to their own far land of faërie !

Why weeps Titania ?—have her dreams, to night,
Been of the lost companion who has trod,

A thousand years, beneath the same sweet light,
Tending her footsteps o'er the dewy sod,-
Her bosom's lord,—estranged and distant, now?
-Witness the moon! the Fairy King is near,
Bent o'er her beauty with a smiling brow,
And drinking hope from each unconscious tear;
In love's own service weaving fairy spells,
And singing-like the sweet, far sound of bells!

Spirit of this western flower!'
Clothe thee in a purple shower,
Sink into my lady's eyes,
Fill her brain with phantasies;
Stir within her, while she sleeps,
Visions, which the memory keeps,
Thoughts, that have no earthly signs,
Hopes, for which the spirit pines!

Sink into my lady's breast,
Lull its throbbings into rest,
Whisper of all gentle things,
Hush her low, sad murmurings;-
Till a peaceful charm be wove,
And she soften into love;

That her eye, its slumber gone,
Love whate'er it look upon!

Spirit! do my bidding well!
I have yet another spell,

Shall soothe her troubled brain to rest,
But leave thy charm within her breast:

Seal the softness shed by thee,
But clear it of its phantasy!

Ere I meet the fairy train,

She shall be mine own, again.—
Mount and mead are joyless grown,

Since I wander there, alone;

I am sad, by grove and

green,

While I want my Fairy Queen!

THE ANNIVERSARY.

BY ALARIC A. WATTS.

I.

NAY, chide me not! I cannot chase
The gloom that wraps my soul away;
Nor wear, as erst, the smiling face

That best beseems this hallowed day:
Fain would my yearning heart be gay,—
Its wonted welcome breathe to thine;
But sighs come blended with my lay,
And tears of anguish blot the line!

II.

I cannot sing, as once I sung

Our bright and cheerful hearth beside; When gladness swayed my heart and tongue, And looks of fondest love replied:

The meaner cares of earth defied,

We heeded not its outward din,

How loud-soe'er the storm might chide,

So all was calm and fair within!

III.

A blight upon our bliss hath come;
We are not what we were of yore;
The music of our hearts is dumb;

Our fireside mirth is heard no more!
The little cricket's chirp is o'er,

That filled our happy home with glee; The dove hath fled whose pinions bore Healing and peace, for thee and me!

IV.

Our youngest-born,—our autumn flower,→→
The best beloved, because the last;
The star that shone above our bower

When many a cherished dream had past;--

The one sweet hope that o'er us cast
Its rainbow-form of life and light,

And smiled defiance on the blast,
Hath vanished from our eager sight!

V.

Oh! sudden was the wrench that tore
Affection's firmest links apart,—

And doubly barbed the shaft we wore
Deep in each bleeding heart of heart:
For, who can bear from bliss to part,
Without one sign-one warning token;
To sleep in peace,—then wake, and start,
To find life's fairest promise broken!

G

VI.

When last this cherished day came round,
What aspirations sweet were ours!

Fate, long unkind, our hopes had crowned,

And strewn, at length, our path with flowers. How darkly now the prospect lowers! How thorny is our homeward way! How more than sad the evening hours, That used to glide like thought away!

VII.

And, half infected by our gloom,

Yon little mourner sits and sighs;
His playthings, scattered round the room,
No more attract his listless eyes:
Mutely his infant task he plies,

Or moves with soft and stealthy tread;
And, called, in tones subdued replies,
As if he feared to wake the dead!

VIII.

Where is the blithe companion gone,

Whose sports he loved to guide and share? Where is the merry eye that won

All hearts to fondness ?-Where, oh, where?

The empty crib,-the vacant chair,—

The favourite toy,-alone remain,

To whisper to our hearts' despair

Of hopes we cannot feel again!