LOVE.

I.

WE met in secret, in the depth of night

When there was none to watch us; not an eye

Save the lone dweller of the lonely sky

To gaze upon our love and pure delight;

And in that hour's unbroken solitude,

When the white moon had robed her in its beam,

I've thought some vision of a blessed dream,

Or spirit of the air before me stood,
And held communion with me. In mine ear
Her voice's sweet notes breathed not of the earth,
Her beauty seemed not of a mortal birth;
And in my heart there was an awful fear,
A thrill, like some deep warning from above,
That soothed its passion to a spirit's love.

11.

SHE stood before me; the pure lamps of heaven
Lighted her charms, and those soft eyes which turned
On me with dying fondness. My heart burned,

As, tremblingly with hers, my vows were given.
Then softly 'gainst my bosom beat her heart;

These living arms around her form were thrown,
Binding her heavenly beauty like a zone,

While from her ruby warm lips, just apart

Like bursting roses, sighs of fragrance stole,

And words of music whispering in mine ear

Things pure and holy none but mine should hear;

For they were accents uttered from the soul,

For which no tongue her innocence reproved,

And breathed for one who loved her and was loved.

ISMAEL FITZADAM.

LS IN WINTER.

WHEN winter winds are piercing chill.

And through the hawthorn blows the gale, With solemn feet I tread the hill

That overlows the lonely vale.

O'er the bare u; land, and away

Through the long reach of desert woods, The embracing sunbeams chastely play, And gladden those deep solitudes

Where, twisted round the barren oak,
The summer vine in beauty clung,
And summer winds the silence broke,
The crystal icicle is hung;

Where, from their frozen urns, mute springs Pour out the river's gradual tide,

Shrilly the skater's iron rings,

And voices fill the woodland side.

Alas! how changed from the fair scene, When birds sang out their mellow lay, And winds were soft, and woods were green, And the song ceased not with the day.

But still wild music is abroad,

Pale, desert woods! within your crowd; And gathering winds in hoarse accord Amid the vocal reeds pipe loud.

Chill airs, and wintry winds! my ear
Has grown familiar with your song;

I hear it in the opening year-
I listen, and it cheers me long.

LONGERLLOW.