Bending, her soul broke forth, in mingled sounds
Of weeping and sad song." Alas!" she cried,

"Alas! my boy, thy gentle grasp is on me;
The bright tears quiver in thy pleading eyes,
And now fond thoughts arise,

And silver cords again to earth have won me;
And like a vine thou claspest my full heart—
How shall I hence depart?

"How the lone paths retrace where thou wert playing

So late, along the mountains, at my side?

And I, in joyous pride,

By every place of flowers my course delaying,

Wove, e'en as pearls, the lilies round thy hair,

Beholding thee so fair!

"And, oh! the home whence thy bright smile hath

parted,

Will it not seem as if the sunny day

Turn'd from its door away?

While through its chambers wandering, weary-hearted,

I languish for thy voice, which past me still,
Went like a singing rill?

"Under the palm-trees thou no more shalt meet me, When from the fount at evening I return,

With the full water-urn;

Nor will thy sleep's low dove-like breathings greet me, As 'midst the silence of the stars I wake,

And watch for thy dear sake.

"And thou, will slumber's dewy cloud fall round thee, Without thy mother's hand to smooth thy bed?

Wilt thou not vainly spread

Thine arms, when darkness as a veil hath wound thee,

To fold my neck, and lift up, in thy fear,

A cry which none shall hear

?

M

"What have I said, my child?-Will He not hear thee,

Who the young ravens heareth from their nest?
Shall He not guard thy rest,

And, in the hush of holy midnight near thee,

Breathe o'er thy soul, and fill its dreams with joy ?— Thou shalt sleep soft, my boy.

"I give thee to thy God-the God that gave thee,

A well-spring of deep gladness to my heart!

And precious as thou art,

And pure as dew of Hermon, He shall have thee,
My own, my beautiful, my undefil'd!

And thou shalt be His child.

"Therefore, farewell!-I go, my

soul

may fail

me,

As the hart panteth for the water brooks,

Yearning for thy sweet looks.

But thou, my first-born, droop not, nor bewail me ;

Thou in the Shadow of the Rock shalt dwell,

The Rock of Strength.-Farewell!"

THE WRECK.

ALL night the booming minute-gun
Had pealed along the deep,

And mournfully the rising sun

Looked o'er the tide-worn steep.

A bark from India's coral strand,

Before the raging blast,

Had vailed her topsails to the sand,

And bowed her noble mast.

The queenly ship!-brave hearts had striven,

And true ones died with her!

We saw her mighty cable riven,

Like floating gossamer.

We saw her proud flag struck that morn,

A star once o'er the seas

Her anchor gone, her deck uptorn―
And sadder things than these!

We saw her treasures cast away,-
The rocks with pearls were sown,
And strangely sad, the ruby's ray
Flashed out o'er fretted stone.

And gold was strewn the wet sands o'er,
Like ashes by a breeze;

And gorgeous robes-but oh! that shore

Had sadder things than these!

We saw the strong man still and low,
A crush'd reed thrown aside;

Yet, by that rigid lip and brow,

Not without strife he died.