Short solace, vain relief!-thought came too quick,
And whirl'd her brain to madness: she arose,
As one who ne'er had dwelt among the sick,
And flew at all she met, as on her foes;
But no one ever heard her speak or shriek,
Although her paroxysm drew towards its close:--
Hers was a frenzy which disdain'd to rave,
E'en when they smote her, in the hope to save.

Twelve days and nights she wither'd thus; at last,
Without a groan or sigh, or glance, to show
A parting pang, the spirit from her past:

And they who watch'd her nearest, could not know The very instant, till the change that cast

Her sweet face into shadow, dull and slow, Glazed o'er her eyes-the beautiful, the blackOh! to possess such lustre, and then lack!

Thus lived-thus died she

never more on her

Shall sorrow light or shame. She was not made Through years or moons the inner weight to bear, Which colder hearts endure till they are laid By age in earth: her days and pleasures were Brief, but delightful-such as had not stay'd Long with her destiny; but she sleeps well By the sea-shore whereon she loved to dwell.

That isle is now all desolate and bare,

Its dwellings down, its tenants pass'd away; None but her own and father's grave is there, And nothing outward tells of human clay. Ye could not know where lies a thing so fair,

No one is there to show, no tongue to say, What was no dirge, except the hollow sea's, Mourns o'er the beauty of the Cyclades.

Id.

EUPHEMISM.

TRUTH is always strange,

Stranger than fiction: if it could be told, How much would novels gain by the exchange!

How differently the world would men behold! How oft would vice and virtue places change! The new world would be nothing to the old, If some Columbus of the moral seas Would show mankind their souls' antipodes.

What antres vast and deserts idle' then

Would be discover'd in the human soul! What icebergs in the hearts of mighty men, With self-love in the centre as their pole! What Anthropophagi are nine of ten

Of those who hold the kingdoms in control! Were things but only call'd by their right name, Cæsar himself would be ashamed of fame.

THE SECRET PASSION.

WHEN We two parted

In silence and tears,

Half broken-hearted,

To sever for years,
Pale grew thy cheek and cold,

Colder thy kiss;

Truly that hour foretold

Sorrow to this.

Id.

The dew of the morning
Sunk chill on my brow-
It felt like the warning
Of what I feel now.
Thy vows are all broken,
And light is thy fame;
I hear thy name spoken,
And share in its shame.

They name thee before me,
A knell to mine ear;
A shudder comes o'er me-
Why wert thou so dear?
They know not I knew thee,

Who knew thee too well:-
Long, long shall I rue thee,
Too deeply to tell.

In secret we met :--
In silence I grieve,
That thy heart could forget,
Thy spirit deceive.

If I should meet thee

After long years,

How should I greet thee?-
With silence and tears.

DAUGHTERS OF JUDAH.

THE wild gazelle on Judah's hills
Exulting yet may bound,
And drink from all the living rills

That gush on holy ground:

Its airy-step and glorious eye

May glance in tameless transport by :

A step as fleet, an eye more bright,
Hath Judah witness'd there;
And o'er her scenes of lost delight
Inhabitants more fair.

The cedars wave on Lebanon,

But Judah's statelier maids are gone!

More blest each palm that shades those plains
Than Israel's scatter'd race;

For, taking root, it there remains

In solitary grace:

It cannot quit its place of birth,

It will not live in other earth.

But we must wander witheringly,
In other lands to die;

And where our fathers' ashes be,
Our own may never lie:

Our temple hath not left a stone,
And Mockery sits on Salem's throne.

Hebrew Melodies.

'MALE TENEBRÆ ORCI!'

OH! snatch'd away in beauty's bloom,
On thee shall press no ponderous tomb;
But on thy turf shall roses rear

Their leaves, the earliest of the year;
And the wild cypress wave in tender gloom:

And oft by yon blue gushing stream

Shall Sorrow lean her drooping head, And feed deep thought with many a dream, And lingering pause and lightly tread;

Fond wretch! as if her step disturb'd the dead!

Ꭰ Ꭰ

Away! ye know that tears are vain,

That Death nor heeds nor hears distress: Will this unteach us to complain?

Or make one mourner weep the less? And thou-who tell'st me to forgetThy looks are wan, thine eyes are wet.

'ANIMULA, VAGULA, BLANDULA.'

WHEN coldness wraps this suffering clay,
Ah! whither strays the immortal mind?
It cannot die, it cannot stray,

But leaves its darken'd dust behind.
Then, unembodied, doth it trace

By steps each planet's heavenly way?
Or fill at once the realms of space,
A thing of eyes, that all survey?

Eternal, boundless, undecay'd,

A Thought unseen, but seeing all,
All, all in earth or skies display'd,
Shall it survey, shall it recall:
Each fainter trace that memory holds
So darkly of departed years,
In one broad glance the soul beholds,
And all that was at once appears.

Before Creation peopled earth,

Its eye shall roll through chaos back; And where the farthest heaven had birth, The spirit trace its rising track.

Id.