XXXVI.

UPON

my First's blue stream

The moon's cold light is sleeping;
And Marion in her mournful dream
Is wandering there and weeping.
Where is my Whole?—this hour

His boat should cleave the water;
He is a Knight of pride and power,
But he loves the Huntsman's daughter.

The shroud her marriage vest

The stone her nuptial pillow

So, in my Second let her rest,
Beneath the grieving willow.
Where is my Whole?-go Song,

Go solemn Song, to chide him ;
His hall lets in a revelling throng,
And a gay bride smiles beside him!

AUGUST, 1829.

XXXVII.

He hath seen the tempest lower;

He hath dared the foeman's spear;

He hath welcomed death on tide and tower: How will he greet him here?

My First was set, and in his place

You might see the dark man stand,

With a fearful vizor on his face,

And a bright axe in his hand.

Short shrift, and hurried prayer:
Now bid the pale priest go;
And let my Second be bound and bare
To meet the fatal blow.

The dark man grinned in bitter scorn;
And you might hear him say,
"It was black as jet but yestermorn,
Whence is it white to-day?"

"Rise-thou art pardoned !"-vain!

Lift up the lifeless clay;

On the skin no scratch, on the steel no stain,--
But the soul hath past away.

The dark man laid his bright axe by

As he heard the tower clock chime;

And he thought that none but my Whole would de A minute before the time.

JULY, 1829.

XXXVIII.

THERE hangs a picture in an ancient hall :
A groop of hunters meeting in their joy
On a green lawn; the gladdest of them all
Is old Sir Geoffrey's heir, a bright-eyed boy.
A little girl has heard the bugle call,

And she is running from her task or toy
To whisper caution: on the pony bounds,
And see, my First steals off before the hounds.

There is another picture ;-that wild youth

Is grown to manhood; by the great salt lake He clasps his new sword on; and gentle Ruth Smiles, smiles and sobs, as if her heart would break, And talks right well of constancy and truth,

And bids him keep my Second for her sake,A precious pledge that, wander where he will, One heart will think and dream about him still.

And yet another picture; from far lands

The truant is returned; but ah, his bride, Sickness hath marred her beauty! mute he stands, Mute in the darkened chamber by her side;

And brings the medicine, sweetest from those hands, Still whispering hope which she would check or chide. Doth the charmed cup recall the fainting soul

E'en from Death's grasp? Oh! blessings on my Whole!

i

1831.

THE END.

BRADCURY AND EVANS, PRINTERS, WHITEFRIARS.