In dreams alone, in converse sweet, shall wander

by thy side,

Then waking, start to find thou art another's loving bride!

Perchance we yet may meet amid the checker'd scenes of life,

And strangely shall I view thee then - that other's happy wife.

That thou, indeed, hast ceased to love, is not for me to

chide :

No mortal hand can think to stay the ebbing of that tide!

Once joyous on that flood I rode; but now those waves

are gone,

And left me stranded on the shore, forsaken and

alone.

Away, instead of thy loved form, thy face

sweet and fair,

My only friend

Despair!

and guest is now the spectre of

What recked I of applause or blame, which other

tongues might tell,

If thou the monarch of my life didst say that I did well :

Oh, so entwined thou wert with all, it was not I but We

And now that thou hast ceased to love, I almost cease to be.

How much I loved thee, Beatrice, I vainly now

renew,

When each devoted act oft told that burning words

were true:

The chilling winter gale of Time around this heart may beat

And not withdraw a single spark from the enduring

heat.

Farewell yon well-remembered spot, where hours of

bliss were spent,

Too sad the recollection now that with each flower is

blent;

If Heaven perchance prolong this life and line with years my brow,

Once more my aged eyes may see the scenes I fly from now.

Hark, how soft Summer's parting breeze chaunts its last song above,

As from their drooping stems fast fall the wasted flowers of love;

The setting sun two shadows casts upon yon fading

plane,

But this bent form and that fair shape it ne'er shall trace again.

I hear the deep Sea's pedal note sound from its organ

cave

As when we first rejoiced to hear the music of

the wave;

No music has it now to cheer, but with a sullen

boom,

Like shipwreck minute guns, it peals the sound of

coming doom.

Our happy day of love is o'er, its twilight sinks in

gloom:

The pallid shade of Grief shall brood above its lonely tomb.

And when 'neath distant skies I roam, and evening

shadows fall,

Mem'ry in brightest colours traced, this sad scene will

recall.

Though bright the lightning wit may flash the merry board around,

While loud the joyous laughter peals, like thunder's after-sound;

'Tis but as on Consumption's cheek the hues of vigour glow,

The surface bright with loveliness-pale Death intrench'd below.

Oh, never more, my beautiful! these coming years

again

Shall dreams of pleasure lull to rest this voice of

sleepless pain:

The shades of woe shall deepen down, till one dark cloud of gloom

O'erspread the once bright face until 'tis laid within the tomb!

Or years and years may come and go, and in their onward flight

Extinguish in the Mind's broad dome each various coloured light;

But as the lamps within that dome fade slowly one by

one,

The memory of thy love for me will burn the Last

alone.

Farewell!—a long good-bye! —may all that fondest

love can crave,

Descending from on High, illume thy pathway to the

grave!

Oh! may it be thy lot to find in this thy bright young day,

As deep a homage, true a love, as that now cast

away!

I