"Edith, for both our sakes forbear, "How can'st thou thus my heart-strings tear? "Thy look my very blood can freeze, "How can'st thou utter words like these? "Nay, by yon heaven our heads above, "Ne'er will I render up my love:

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No, let another fill their throne, "And let another wear their crown, "Harold will never traitor be "To her he loved from infancy."

"Nay, Harold, nay, it must be so, "See! I can leave thee, I can go, "Tho' all I on the earth hold dear, "Life of my life, I thus leave here. "Yet think not that I love thee less, "No! while I live these lips will bless, "Will pray for thee; and oh! in heaven "The guerdon surely will be given. "Tis for our Isle the tie is broke, "To shield her from the Norman yoke: "No Earl within this fated land "Able as thee to wield command. "All eyes are turned on thee to save "Our country from the churl and knave. "Oh! when the cloister walls divide "Our fates, this heart will swell with pride "To hear thee named our England's lord: "And when thou girdest on thy sword, "When too thy brow a crown doth wear, "Think that thine Edith placed it there. "Edith and England !-pause no more, Harold, beloved, the dream is o'er,

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"Go, wed proud Aldyth! she will bring
"Vassals and thanes to England's King.
"Think not of me! the traitor host
"Are on our shore-our country's lost!
"Now let me give thee one embrace ;
"All, all is o'er, till face to face

A Day too Late.

"We meet in that bright world above,
"Where nought can come between our love :
"Farewell! my blessing on thee rest."

Wildly he clasped her to his breast,
Essayed to speak, essayed in vain,
One smothered sob revealed his pain.
Her folded hands she softly laid
In silent blessing on his head,
Kissed his pale lips, without a groan,
Then turned-and Harold was alone!

A DAY TOO LATE!

DAY too late! with pallid cheek
He stood the bier beside,

Of her who ere the moon had waned,
Was to have been his bride.

He stood, and from the quiet face,
He drew aside the pall;

Hot blinding tears were in his eyes,
Though they refused to fall.

Clasp't in her thin cold marble hands,

A still-seal'd letter lay,

It came just as to better worlds,
Her spirit passed away.

And now with its unbroken seal,
They laid it on her breast,

As though without it in the grave
She might not fitly rest.

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But who shall paint the agony

Of him who hung above

Her senseless clay who once to him
Had given her changeless love!

Thoughtless, he lingered on the road,
While worn with grief and care;
She drooped and withered 'neath the load
Of waiting and despair.

A wounded spirit who can brook,
We sink not 'neath life's ills,
But disappointment's canker-worm
The fairest flow'ret kills.

Oh! but to meet her gaze once more,
Once more to hear her speak,
To see the rose of life and love
Bloom on that clay-cold cheek.

To hear her say before she passed
Up to her native heaven,
That she had loved him to the last,
And that he was forgiven.

In vain, in vain, kiss after kiss

On the white brow he pressed;
In vain he called her each fond name,
And her chill hand caressed.

He dropped the sheet, and faltering,
Passed silent down the stair,

But all his early hopes, his love,
Were left behind him there.

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To Mary.

TO MARY.

HERE'S silence in the house, Mary,
And darkness on the hearth,
There's no one now to welcome me
In the spot that gave me birth;
And long before these budding flowers
Have blossomed on the tree,
Your voice I shall not hear, Mary.
Your face I may not see.

Oh! do you mind the time, Mary,
I first came courting you,

Lambs in the fold, steeds in the stall,
And in the barn corn too;

But now I look with maddened eyes
Upon the dreary place:
Oh! better for us both, my girl,
You never saw my face.

Say, have I sometime dreamed, Mary,
Or have I somewhere read,
The poor man has no right to love,
Or any right to wed;

Ah! poverty's a curse, my girl,

Of deepest, darkest hue,

For wide the space, and deep the gulf,
It makes 'twixt me and you.

Once I had lands and gold, Mary,
Once I had flocks and kine,
Yes, love, I know why round my neck,
Your dear arms you entwine
You loved me for myself, my girl,

And prize me none the less,

In poverty and gloom, Mary,
In anguish and distress.

Yet better days may dawn for us,
I've proved you good and true,
And as you've been to me, Mary,
I will be so to you ;

There's morning after night, Mary,
There's sunshine after rain,
And we who weep together now,
May meet with smiles again.

THE OLD YEAR'S WARNING!

CAREWELL, a long farewell, thou sad old year!
Thy reign is over now, thy day is done;

Lay thyself calmly down upon thy bier,
We've watched the setting of thy latest sun.

What art thou hiding in thy winding sheet?
What art thou drawing in thy sable train?
"A host of hopes and dreams once, oh! so sweet,
And hearts that have been seared by fire and pain.

Here, a long list of broken vows I hold,
Embittered lives and ne'er-forgotten wrong;
Remorse, regret, a store of blood-bought gold,
Ye: fairer things to the old year belong.

Some precious records I have here writ down
Of holy prayers and meek forgiving love,
Of faith that rose supreme when hope had flown,
Records of hearts whose guerdon is above.

And I can tell of patience most divine,
Of noble courage and of hopeful trust,
Of deeds that brighter than your jewels shine,
Altho the hearts that prompted them are dust.