IX.

And ye, pale violets, whose sweet breath hath driven
Back on my soul the dreams I fain would quell;
To whose faint perfume such wild power is given,
To call up visions-only loved too well;—

X.

Ye too must perish !—Wherefore now divide

Tributes of love-first-offerings of the heart;Gifts-that so long have slumbered side by side; Tokens of feeling-never meant to part!

XI.

A long farewell :-sweet flowers, sad scrolls, adieu !

Yes, ye shall be companions to the last :

So perish all that would revive anew

But lo! the flames are curling swiftly 'round
Each fairer vestige of my youthful years;

Page after page that searching blaze hath found,
Even whilst I strive to trace them through my tears.

XIII.

The Hindoo widow, in affection strong,

Dies by her lord, and keeps her faith unbroken :Thus perish all which to those wrecks belong, The living memory-with the lifeless token!

ITALIAN GIRL'S HYMN TO THE

VIRGIN.

BY MRS. HEMANS.

O sanctissima, O purissima,
Dulcis virgo Maria!

Mater amata intemerata

Ora, ora pro nobis.

Sicilian Mariner's Hymn.

1.

IN the deep hour of dreams,

Through the dark woods, and past the moaning sea,

And by the starlight gleams, Mother of Sorrows! lo, I come to thee.

II.

Unto thy shrine I bear

Night-blowing flowers, like my own heart to lie,

All, all unfolded there,

Beneath the meekness of thy pitying eye.

ITALIAN GIRL'S HYMN TO THE VIRGIN. 41

III.

For thou, that once didst move,

In thy still beauty, through an earthly home,
Thou know'st the grief, the love,

The fear of woman's soul; -to thee I come!

IV.

Many, and sad, and deep,

Were the thoughts folded in thy silent breast;
Thou too couldst watch and weep-
Hear, gentlest Mother! hear a heart opprest!

V.

There is a wandering bark,

Bearing one from me o'er the restless wave;

Oh! let thy soft eye mark

His course-be with him, Holiest ! guide and save!

VI.

My soul is on that way;

My thoughts are travellers o'er the waters dim;
Through the long weary day

I walk, o'ershadowed by vain dreams of him.

VII.

Aid him, and me too, aid!

Oh! 'tis not well, this earthly love's excess!

On thy weak child is laid

The burthen of too deep a tenderness.

42

ITALIAN GIRL'S HYMN TO THE VIRGIN.

VII.

Too much o'er him is poured

My being's hope-scarce leaving Heaven a part;

Too fearfully adored,

Oh! make not him the chastener of my heart!

IX.

I tremble with a sense

Of grief to be-I hear a warning low-
Sweet Mother! call me hence;
This wild idolatry must end in woe.

X.

The troubled joy of life,

Love's lightning happiness, my soul hath known,

And, worn with feverish strife,

Would fold its wings-take back, take back thine own!

XI.

Hark! how the wind swept by!

The tempest's voice comes rolling o'er the wave

Hope of the sailor's eye

And maiden's heart! blest Mother, guide and save!

AN INVOCATION TO BIRDS.

BY BARRY CORNWALL.

COME all ye feathery people of mid-air,

Who sleep 'midst rocks, or on the mountain summits
Lie down with the wild winds; and ye who build
Your homes amidst green leaves by grottoes cool;
And who on the flat sands hoard your eggs
ye

For suns to ripen, come !-O phoenix rare!
If death hath spared thee, or philosophic search
Permit thee still to own thy haunted nest,
Perfect Arabian,-lonely nightingale !
Dusk creature, who art silent all day long,
But when pale eve unseals thy clear throat, loosest
Thy twilight music on the dreaming boughs,
Until they waken;—and thou, cuckoo bird,
Who art the ghost of sound, having no shape
Material, but dost wander far and near,
Like untouched Echo whom the woods deny
Sight of her love,--come all to my slow charm!
Come thou, sky-climbing bird, wakener of morn,