"For I thought that God would hear his prayer, I heard the dismal, drowning cries,

Thomas R. Hervey ward um 1816 in der Nähe von Paisley geboren, erhielt seine Erziehung in Manchester und lebt hier als practischer Jurist. Er veröffentlichte the Poetical Sketch-Book 1835, the Book of Christmas und einzelne Gedichte in Zeitschriften. Seine Poesieen wenn gleich nicht ersten Ranges zeichnen sich durch reiche Phantasie und treffliche Diction sehr vor theilhaft aus.

A Twilight Landscape.

Along the green meadows, when life was in prime, Oh! come at this hour, love! the daylight is And worshipped its face in the stream:

gone,
And the heavens weep dew on the flowers;

And the spirit of loneliness steals, with a moan,
Through the shade of the eglantine bowers:

For, the moon is asleep on her pillow of clouds,
And her curtain is drawn in the sky;

When our hopes were as sweet, and our life-path
as bright,
And as cloudless, to fancy's young eye,
As the star-spangled course of that phantom of
light,

Along the blue depths of the sky!

And the gale, as it wantons along the young Then come in this hour, love! when twilight has

buds,

Falls faint on the ear like a sigh!

The summer-day sun is too gaudy and bright

For a heart that has suffered like mine;

hung

Its shadowy mantle around;

And no sound, save the murmurs that breathe from thy tongue,

And, methinks, there were pain, in the noon of Or thy footfall - scarce heard on the ground!

its light,

To a spirit so broken as thine!
The birds, as they mingled their music of joy,
And the roses that smiled in the beam,
Would but tell us of feelings for ever gone by,
And of hopes that have passed like a dream!

And the moonlight, pale spirit! would
speak of the time

When we wandered beneath its soft gleam,

Shall steal on the silence, to waken a fear
When the sun that is gone, with its heat,
Has left on the cheek of all nature a tear,
Then, hearts that are broken should meet!

The Convict Ship.

Morn on the waters! - and purple and bright,
Bursts on the billows the flushing of light!
O'er the glad waves, like a child of the sun,
See the tall vessel goes gallantly on:
Full to the breeze she unbosoms her sail,
And her pennant streams onward, like hope, in

the gale!

The winds come around her, in murmur and

song,

And the surges rejoice, as they bear her along!
Upward she points to the golden-edged clouds,
And the sailor sings gaily, aloft in the shrouds!
Onwards she glides, amid ripple and spray,
Over the waters - away, and away.
Bright as the visions of youth, ere they part,
Passing away, like a dream of the heart!
Who as the beautiful pageant sweeps by,
Music around her, and sunshine on high -
Pauses to think, amid glitter and glow,
Oh! there be hearts that are breaking, below!

As the smiles we put on - just to cover our

tears; And the withering thoughts which the world cannot know Like heart-broken exiles, lie burning below; While the vessel drives on to that desolate shore Where the dreams of our childhood are vanished and o'er.

I am all alone.

I am all alone! - and the visions that play
Round life's young days, have passed away;
And the songs are hushed that gladness sings
And the hopes that I cherished have made them
wings;

And the light of my heart is dimmed and gone,
And I sit in my sorrow, and all alone!
And the forms which I fondly loved are flown,

Night on the waves! and the moon is on And friends have departed one by one;
high,
Hung, like a gem, on the brow of the sky;
Treading its depths, in the power of her might,
And turning the clouds, as they pass her, to
light

Look to the waters, - asleep on their breast,
Seems not the ship like an island of rest?
Bright and alone on the shadowy main,
Like a heart-cherished home on some desolate

plain!

Vho - as she smiles in the silvery light,
preading her wings on the bosom of night,
lone on the deep as the moon in the sky,
- phantom of beauty! could deem, with a sigh,
That so lovely a thing is the mansion of sin,
_nd souls that are smitten lie bursting, within!
Tho, as he watches her silently gliding,
emembers that wave after wave is dividing
osoms that sorrow and guilt could not sever,
Hearts that are parted and broken for ever!
r deems that he watches, afloat on the wave,
The death-bed of hope, or the young spirit's
grave!

is thus with our life, while it passes along,
ke a vessel at sea, amid sunshine and song:
aily we glide, in the gaze of the world,
ith streamers afloat, and with canvass un-

furled;

1 gladness and glory to wandering eyes,

et chartered by sorrow, and freighted with

sighs?

ding and false is the aspect it wears,

And memory sits whole lonely hours,
And weaves her wreath of hope's faded flowers,
And weeps o'er the chaplet, when no one is near
To gaze on her grief, or to chide her tear!

And the home of my childhood is distant far,
And I walk in a land where strangers are;
And the looks that I meet, and the sounds that

I hear,

Are not light to my spirit, nor song to my ear;
And sunshine is round me, which I cannot see,
And eyes that beam kindness, - but not for me!

And the song goes round, and the glowing
smile,

But I am desolate all the while!
And faces are bright, and bosoms glad,
And nothing, I think, but my heart is sad!
And I seem like a blight in a region of bloom,
While I dwell in my own little circle of gloom!

I wander about, like a shadow of pain,
With a worm in my breast, and a spell on my
brain;

And I list, with a start, to the gushing of glad

ness, Oh! how it grates on a bosom all sadness! So I turn from a world where I never was

known,

To sit in my sorrow, - and all alone!

Thomas Haynes Bayly ward zu Anfange dieses Jahrhunderts in Bath geboren, nnd widmete sich, da seine Eltern sehr wohlhabend waren, ganz den schönen Wissenschaften. 1826 verheirathete er sich und nahm seinen Wohnsitz an der Küste von Sussex; 1831 hatte er aber das Unglück sein Vermögen zu verlieren und musste nun von dem Ertrage seiner Feder leben. Er starb 1844 in dürftigen Verhältnissen.

Bayly hat mehrere dramatische Werke wie z. B. Perfection, sold for a Song, The Witness u. A. m., welche sich grossen Erfolges erfreuten, sowie viele prosaische Aufsätze und Erzählungen in Zeitschriften u. s. w. hinterlassen, welche noch eine besondere Sammlung und Herausgabe erwarten. Am Zahlreichsten und Verbreitetsten jedoch sind seine bis jetzt ebenfalls in Journalen verstreuten Lieder, die sich durch reiche Phantasie, warmes Gefühl, glücklichen Humor, Lebendigkeit und gefällige Form höchst vortheilhaft auszeichnen und in ganz England überall gesungen werden.