Think of him whose prayer shall bless thee, Think of him thy love had blessed! Should her lineaments resemble All All my faults perchance thou knowest, Every feeling hath been shaken; Even my soul forsakes me now: But 'tis done: all words are idle,— Fare thee well! thus disunited, Torn from every nearer tie, Seared in heart, and lone, and blighted, THE TEAR BY LORD BYRON "O lachrymarum fons, tenero sacros Pectore te, pia Nympha, sensit." GRAY. When Friendship or Love our sympathies move, Too oft is a smile but the hypocrite's wile, Give me the soft sigh, whilst the soul-telling eye Mild Charity's glow, to us mortals below, The man doom'd to sail with the blast of the gale, As he bends o'er the wave which may soon be his grave, The green sparkles bright with a Tear. The soldier braves death for a fanciful wreath In Glory's romantic career; But he raises the foe when in battle laid low, If with high-bounding pride he return to his bride, All his toils are repaid when, embracing the maid, Sweet scene of my youth! seat of Friendship and Truth, Loth to leave thee, I mourn'd, for a last look I turn'd, Though my vows I can pour to my Mary no more, In the shade of her bower I remember the hour By another possesst, may she live ever blest! With a sigh I resign what I once thought was mine, Ye friends of my heart, ere from you I depart, If again we shall meet in this rural retreat, When my soul wings her flight to the regions of night, As ye pass by the tomb where my ashes consume, May no marble bestow the splendor of woe No fiction of fame shall blazon my name, OUTWARD BY W. J. CAMERON The sun's high and the moon's high; The ships of the world go by without, The town sleeps and the bay sleeps. The night comes and the wind comes; Hark to the voice in the wind that cries, As it drifts like a bird 'twixt the sea and the skies. 66 There is one that will go with the tide!” The dawn's here and the day's here! The wind ebbs out, and the sea. The mists roll back and the hills are plain, LORD ULLIN'S DAUGHTER BY THOMAS CAMPBELL A chieftain, to the Highlands bound, "Now who be ye, would cross Lochgyle, This dark and stormy water? " "O, I'm the chief of Ulva's isle, And this Lord Ullin's daughter. "And fast before her father's men Three days we've fled together, For should he find us in the glen, My blood would stain the heather. "His horsemen hard behind us ride; Out spoke the hardy Highland wight, "And by my word! the bonny bird So, though the waves are raging white, I'll row you o'er the ferry." |