-Hush! did a breeze through the armour sigh? Did the folds of the banner shake? Not so!-from the tomb's dark mystery There seem'd a voice to break! He had heard that voice bid clarions blow, And it said "The sword hath conquer'd kings, THE HEART OF BRUCE IN MELROSE ABBEY. HEART! that did'st press forward still,' Aught that so could beat and burn? 1 "Now pass thou forward, as thou wert wont, and Douglas will follow thee or die!" With these words Douglas threw from him the heart of Bruce into mid-battle against the Moors of Spain. THE HEART OF BRUCE. Silent-save when early bird Sings where once the mass was heard; Comes through flowers or fretted stone; No! brave heart! though cold and lone, Is the noble Douglas nigh, Wins me from their splendours brief; 131 Dreams, yet bright ones! scorn them not, NATURE'S FAREWELL. "The beautiful is vanish'd, and returns not." COLERIDGE's Wallenstein. A YOUTH rode forth from his childhood's home, "Knew'st thou with what thou art parting here, Long would'st thou linger in doubt and fear; Thy heart's light laughter, thy sunny hours, Thou hast left in our shades with the spring's wild flowers. "Under the arch by our mingling made, On rode the youth-and the boughs among, Thus the free birds o'er his pathway sung: "Wherefore so fast unto life away? Thou art leaving for ever thy joy in our lay! NATURE'S FArewell. 133 "Thou may'st come to the summer woods again, And thy heart have no echo to greet their strain; Afar from the foliage its love will dwell A change must pass o'er thee-farewell, farewell!" On rode the youth-and the founts and streams "Listen but once to the sound of our mirth! For thee 'tis a melody passing from earth. Never again wilt thou find in its flow, The peace it could once on thy heart bestow. "Thou wilt visit the scenes of thy childhood's glee, "Thou wilt bear in our gladsome laugh no part- "Farewell!—when thou comest again to thine own, Thou wilt miss from our music its loveliest tone; Mournfully true is the tale we tell Yet on, fiery dreamer! farewell, farewell!" And a something of gloom on his spirit weigh'd As he caught the last sounds of his native shade; But he knew not, till many a bright spell broke, How deep were the oracles Nature spoke! THE BEINGS OF THE MIND. "The beings of the mind are not of clay; And multiply in us a brighter ray, And more beloved existence; that which Fate Of mortal bondage." BYRON. COME to me with your triumphs and your woes, In the deep shadow of a voiceless thought; 'Midst the glad music of the spring alone, And sorrowful for visions that are gone! Come to me! make your thrilling whispers heard, That bursts from grief, like lightning from a cloud, Come to me! visit my dim haunt!—the sound Of hidden springs is in the grass beneath; The stock-dove's note above; and all around, The poesy that with the violet's breath Floats through the air, in rich and sudden streams, Friends, friends!-for such to my lone heart ye are― And the sweet kindness never, never dies; |