BROTHER'S LOVE.

HEY had been more than brothers, but there came Betwixt them a cold shadow—I beheld it grow Dark and more dark, with tears I tell thee so, For both I loved, and neither could I blame. At last one sought me out, and said "I go To distant lands. I cannot bear the slow Consuming of his love. One boon I claimIf he e'er needeth kindness, to him show." A pray'r for fitting speech from my heart rose, And I besought him but to speak one word Unto his ancient friend. A great pulse stirred Thro' all his frame-" Ye love, and yet are foes." He wept at this, and ere the sun had set I saw their hands in full forgiveness met.

J

THE NEST WATCHED.

CAME upon a nest the other day ;

The younglings slept within-a happy brood; The mother had gone forth to bring them food, And as I waited on a bending spray

She lighted with her load, but soon away

Swift flew, impatient of my presence there.

I-cruel-paused, and watched her anxious mood,
And well her plaintive piping understood;

Then pitying her patience, and despair,

And love, for what beneath her breast was bred, I backward stepped, and in her joy had share, As to the objects of her fond heart's care, With a low cry of gladness, echoing through My inmost soul, the faithful creature flew.

Miscellaneous.

87

g

A PAINTER'S STUDIO.

ACRED to all the Muses is the place

I enter with hush'd voice and rev'rent tread, As tho' with fairy wreaths the floor were spread,

And gazing round on many a perfect face,

Which here, being dumb, yet speaketh, there is shed
O'er soul and sense a joy enraptured,

And I do homage to the artist's grace,
While happy thoughts, no rude hand may erase,
Are written on my heart, that when afar
My feet may wander on their toilsome way

This hour will shine out like some hidden star,
Which, when we need it most, doth lend its ray,
And guided by this beacon I once more

Shall cross with rev'rent foot this threshold o'er.

THE GIFT RING.

GOLDEN ring is mine, with jewels set,

Three priceless gems, to me most dear, and fair

And daily on my hand this ring I wear,

For when amid Life's fever and its fret,
Its hourly trial, its undying care,

I look on this my ring.

Then unaware

My crosses and iny cares I quite forget,

While one by one my jewels I compareCharlotte, and Edith, and grave Harriett,

My daughters, dow'ried with their mother's face, And sharing each some portion of her grace. Then with sweet tears I feel my eyes grow wet, And, oh what tender thoughts and yearnings cling Around these jewels in my golden ring.

THE GEM TRANSFERRED.

ROPS from Life's circlet one, its fairest gem,
But only to be gathered up and worn
Close to a husband's heart upon this morn
Which crowns her brow with bridal diadem;
And, tho' but natural, I oft shall mourn

Her that no more, mine own, shall home return;
Yet knowing Love doth from her garment's hem,
E'en to her flow'r-crown'd brow enwrap her round,
I rest content, and consecrate with prayers
My precious gift, with hopes akin to fears

That no rude thorn her gentle breast may wound, But Time bring only blessing-thro' long years Over her path the Angels, Love and Trust, May still be hovering, when I am dust.

BANISHED ENVY.

HEN I bethink me of the pour'd out blisses Which render rich some life more fortunate, When my sick fancy counts its sum of kisses,

And all the joyance of its happy state,
Wild jealous tears I weep, in bitterest passion,
And cut my soul with envy's venom'd knives,
Hating meanwhile the sunshine in such lives.
Yet afterward, beguiled to gentler fashion,
Remorse-herself awakening-bids me go
And penitential ashes soft strew over
The hideous gulf, my madness did uncover,
And blushing that such shame I e'er could know,
I pray that never, never from its sleep
This cursed thing may wake to bid me weep.

Miscellaneous.

THE STRANDED WRECK.

CORGOTTEN by thy fellows! liest thou here
Half buried in the sand, th' advancing tide
Shall never bear thee to the ocean wide;
Daily it creeps with awéd whispers near,

As tho' it mourned thy loneliness and pride,
Often its fiercest billows thou'st defied ;
But gliding home, without a thought of fear,
A sudden shoal betrayed to ruin drear.
Life hath its quicksands, as the water hath;
How oft we weather tempests out at sea,
But sailing into port, with canvass free,
Some sunken danger wrecks our prosp'rous path:
Then like yon stranded vessel, down we lie
Upon the sands of life, alone, to die.

89

LOVE'S SUNSET.

THE sun has set, but still his parting rays
Illume with fading glories all the sky,

So 'tis with me and my lost youth gone by-
So 'tis with me and my past happy days.
Love can still draw me with his conqu❜ring eye,
Thrills all my being to his whisper'd praise,
Droops all my soul beneath his ling'ring gaze,
Answers my o'ercharg'd heart, each wishful sigh.
Yet, oh the sun has set, never for me,
Shall his new risen radiance light the scene;
Hope has resign'd her throne to memory,

And life's "To be" has chang'd to its "Has been !"
Yet Heaven is merciful, I dream of thee,
And in the world of sleep thy face I see.

LOVE SOVEREIGN.

WHEN to my trembling mouth thy mouth was prest,

In our first kiss of passion and of pain,

Arrows of living lightning pierced my brain, While rapture well nigh madness thrilled my breast, For Love had come an uninvited guest

For evermore its tenant to remain.

Oh, sorrow, and oh, joy-oh, bliss, oh, bane!

I did obey thy sovereign behest,

Thou mightiest monarch, and have worn thy chain.
Tho' poor, yet rich-tho' curst, yet deeply blest,
And now bereft of all, I still am fain

To worship thee, my peace and my unrest,
And here I stand, a suppliant at thy door,
For I must love thee, Love, for evermore.

LOVE'S MAGIC.

EAR lady and dear love, I fain would bring thee
Some off'ring worthy of thy beauty bright;

Alas! how poor a ditty can I sing thee,
'Tis but a candle by the sun's full light,
'Tis but the babbling of a meadow-brook
Beside the thunder of the swelling sea
To that which happier lovers bring to thee.
Yet deign thee, lady, on my heart to look,

There's music there if thou wilt choose the measure,
Love can draw sweetness from the dullest chord;
One look from thee, one pitiful soft word,
And men shall marvel at its mystic pleasure.
Alas! what care I other hearts to thrill
If thine, that's all to me, be marble still.