The night-bird's song that sweetly floats
On this soft gloom-this balmy air,
Brings to the mind her sweeter notes
That I again must never hear.

Lo! yonder shines that window's light,
My guide, my token, heretofore;

And now again it shines as bright,

When those dear eyes can shine no more.

Then hurry from this place away!

It gives not now the bliss it gave ; For Death has made its charm his prey, And joy is buried in her grave.

G. CRABBE.

CCCX

DESPAIR

THERE is a winter in my soul,

A winter of despair:

Oh when will spring its rage control?
When shall the snowdrop blossom there?
Cold gleams of comfort sometimes dart

A dawn of glory on my heart,
But quickly pass away.

Thus Northern Lights the gloom adorn,

And give the promise of a dawn

That never turns to day.

ANON.

CCCXI

DIRCE

STAND close around, ye Stygian set,
With Dirce in one boat convey'd,
Or Charon, seeing, may forget

That he is old, and she a shade.

Love ran with me, then walk'd, then sate, Then said, Come! come! it grows too late: And then he would have gone, but-noYou caught his eye; he could not go.

W. S. LANDOR.

CCCXII

DIRGE AT SEA

SLEEP!-we give thee to the wave,
Red with life-blood from the brave,
Thou shalt find a noble grave:
Fare thee well!

Sleep! thy billowy field is won,
Proudly may the funeral gun,
Midst the hush at set of sun,
Boom thy knell !

Lonely, lonely is thy bed,

Never there may flower be shed,
Marble reared, or brother's head
Bow'd to weep.

Yet thy record on the sea,

Borne through battle high and free,
Long the red-cross flag shall be:
Sleep! oh, sleep!

CCCXIII

MRS. HEMANS.

YOUTH AND AGE

Now, between us all and Him,
There are rising mountains dim,
Forests of uncounted trees,
Spaces of unmeasured seas:
Think with Him how gay of yore
We made sunshine out of shade,-
Think with Him how light we bore
All the burden sorrow laid;
All went happily about Him,—
How shall we toil on without Him?

How without his cheering eye
Constant strength enbreathing ever?
How without Him standing by
Aiding every hard endeavour?
For when faintness or disease
Had usurped upon our knees,
If He deigned our lips to kiss
With those living lips of his,
We were lightened of our pain,
We were up and hale again :-
Now, without one blessing glance
From his rose-lit countenance,
We shall die deserted men,-
And not see Him, even then!

We are cold, very cold,—
All our blood is drying old,
And a terrible heart-dearth

Reigns for us in heaven and earth;
Forth we stretch our chilly fingers
In poor effort to attain

Tepid embers, where still lingers
Some preserving warmth, in vain.
Oh! if Love, the Sister dear
Of Youth that we have lost,
Come not in swift pity here,
Come not, with a host
Of affections, strong and kind,
To hold up our sinking mind,

If She will not, of her grace,
Take her Brother's holy place,
And be to us, at least, a part

Of what He was, in Life and Heart,
The faintness that is on our breath

Can have no other end but Death.

CCCXIV

LORD HOUGHTON.

LAST LINES

No coward soul is mine,

No trembler in the world's storm-troubled sphere: I see Heaven's glories shine,

And faith shines equal, arming me from fear.

O God, within my breast, Almighty, ever present Deity! Life-that in me has rest,

As I-undying Life-have power in thee!

Vain are the thousand creeds

That move men's hearts: unutterably vain;
Worthless as withered weeds,

Or idlest froth amid the boundless main,