Varied in accents, tremulously flinging
Fragments of wonder on my dizzy brain.
Spirit of light! the music of thy song

Descends upon me, even as a dream;
I pause enchanted, and would fain prolong.

Each magic note of thy impassioned theme.
Where art thou sitting ?-in the branches high

Of yon old oak, whose flower-embroidered trunk Rests on a soft mat where the harebells lie,

Its spreading roots 'neath mossy herbage sunk? Minstrel of heaven! is that thy leafy bower,

Where, like the queen of beauty, thou dost shade Thy gentle self in this voluptuous hour,

As in a veil of innocence arrayed ?—

The feathered choir to rest their wings have made
A favourite haunt near thee, and mute, and fond,
They listen, scattered in the boughs beyond.
Hush! 'tis the mountain echoes that descend
To wander thro' the trees!--they softly blend
With every pause an answer so divine,

They emulate, sweet bird! that gentle song of thine.—
Children of air! prolong the flowery tale,-

Fill every bough, touch every living leaf, Let soft persuasive melody prevail,

That every heart, forgetful of its grief,

Like mine, exulting for an hour may be,
Uplifted on the wings of wildest ecstacy!

Alastor.

THE VASSAL'S LAMENT FOR THE FALLEN

TREE.

"Here, (at Brereton, in Cheshire,) is one thing incredibly strange, but attested, as I myself have heard, by many persons, nd commonly believed. Before any heir of this family dies, there are seen, in a lake adjoining, the bodies of trees swimming on the water for several days." CAMDEN'S BRITANNIA.

Yes! I have seen the ancient oak

On the dark deep water cast,

And it was not felled by the woodman's stroke,

Or the rush of the sweeping blast; For the axe might never touch that tree, And the air was still as a summer-sea.

I saw it fall, as falls a chief

By an arrow in the fight;

And the old woods shook, to their loftiest leaf,
At the crashing of its might!

And the startled deer to their coverts flew, And the spray of the lake as a fountain's dew.

'Tis fallen! but think thou not I weep
For the forest's pride o'erthrown;
An old man's tears lie far too deep
To be poured for this alone!
But by that sign too well I know,
That a youthful head must soon be low!

A youthful head, with its shining hair,

And its bright quick-flashing eye—
Well may I weep! for the boy is fair,
Too fair a thing to die!

But on his brow the mark is set-
Oh! could my life redeem him yet!

He bounded by me as I gazed
Alone on the fatal sign,

And it seemed like sunshine when he raised
His joyous glance to mine!

With a stag's fleet step he bounded by,
So full of life-but he must not die!

He must, he must! in that deep dell,
By that dark water's side,

'Tis known that ne'er a proud tree fell,

But an heir of his father died;

1

And he there's laughter in his eye,
Joy in his voice-yet he must die!

I've borne him in these arms, that now
Are nerveless and unstrung;
And must I see on that fair brow,
The dust untimely flung ?

I must!-yon green oak, branch and crest,
Lies floating on the dark lake's breast!

The noble boy!-how proudly sprung
The falcon from his hand!

It seemed like youth to see him
A flower in his father's land!

young,

But the hour of the knell and the dirge is nigh,
For the tree hath fallen, and the flower must die.

Say not 'tis vain!-I tell thee, some
Are warned by a meteor's light,
Or a pale bird flitting calls them home,
Or a voice on the winds by night;
And they must go !—and he too, he—
Woe for the fall of the glorious tree!

Mrs Hemans.

THE DEATH OF ELLA.

On Ella's cheek the rose was seen,
The tint was pure, the hue serene;
A while it bloomed, in beauty rare,
But transient was its dwelling there.
Bright was her eye of heavenly blue,
Her lips like rubies dipped in dew;
And sweetest melodies there hung,
On the soft accents of her tongue.

But soon the storm began to lower,
It struck the stem that held the flower,

Her lover-she drooped her head

In sorrow, o'er his lowly bed,

And fading, like her cheek's soft bloom,
Sank like a lily to the tomb!-

Still will the tears soft pity gave,
Refresh the flowers that deck her grave!

Anon.