For there are spirits of heavenly birth, Who, for love, leave their blissful station!”- He left the bright bowers of Paradise, And its fragrance he breathed around me ;- But hark! 'tis the hour!-I come to thee, love! How swift through the mountain airs would I move, THE LOVER ON THE FIELD OF BATTLE. FROM THE GERMAN. I LOOKED upon the battle plain, I saw the silent hero lie,— I saw the life-blood's deepest stain Though cleft the brow-the bosom gored, He died-as warriors love to die- -I saw the lover wandering by, With wan cold cheek and nerveless air,- -Oh! what wild thoughts were gathering there' The dreamy past had lit his brow, I saw him start at one loved name,- TO AN INFANT. THOU wak'st from happy sleep, to play, Thou hast no heavy thought or dream, To cloud thy fearless eye;— Long be it thus !-life's early stream Yet,-ere the cares of earth lie dim, So, in thy onward vale of tears, Where'er thy path may be, When strength hath bowed to evil years,— He will remember thee! F. H. FORGIVENESS. A TALE. THE night was dark and tempestuous :-heavy gusts of wind shook the abbey walls, and resounded, in deep murmurs, along the cloisters;-while the moon, occasionally breaking through the thick clouds which enveloped her, cast an uncertain and awful light over the surrounding scenery. The monk, Pierre, had lain down to rest, but sleep fled from his eyes; and a broken slumber, which neither absorbed sense nor yielded repose, alone answered his solicitations. The groans of the distressed seemed to mingle with the sighing of the blast; and he frequently started from his couch, under the impression that he heard the well-known signal of his trusty dog, Fidele. In this manner he spent the hours, till the heavy bell of St. Gothard announced that midnight had passed. The storm was, in some degree, abated; and the beams of the moon were less interrupted. Pierre, however, no longer endeavoured to sleep. He fixed his eyes upon the bright luminary, which now shone full through the |