1.

BRIGHT be the place of thy soul!
No lovelier spirit than thine
E'er burst from its mortal control,

In the orbs of the blessed to shine.
On earth thou wert all but divine,
As thy soul shall immortally be;

And our sorrow may cease to repine,

When we know that thy God is with thee.

2.

Light be the turf of thy tomb!

May its verdure like emeralds be:
There should not be the shadow of gloom,
In aught that reminds us of thee.

Young flowers and an evergreen tree
May spring from the spot of thy rest:
But nor cypress nor yew let us see;
For why should we mourn for the blest?

VOL. V.

P

1.

WHEN We two parted
In silence and tears,

Half broken-hearted

To sever for years,

Pale grew thy cheek and cold,

Colder thy kiss;

Truly that hour foretold

Sorrow to this.

2

The dew of the morning
Sunk chill on my brow-

It felt like the warning
Of what I feel now.
Thy vows are all broken,
And light is thy fame;
I hear thy name spoken,
And share in its shame.

3.

They name thee before me,
A knell to mine ear;

A shudder comes o'er me

Why wert thou so dear? They know not I knew thee, Who knew thee too wellLong, long shall I rue thee, Too deeply to tell.

4.

In secret we met

In silence I grieve,

That thy heart could forget,
Thy spirit deceive.

If I should meet thee

After long years,

How should I greet thee ?—

With silence and tears.

1808.

STANZAS FOR MUSIC.*

"O Lachrymarum fons, tenero sacros
"Ducentium ortus ex animo: quater
"Felix! in imo qui scatentem

"Pectore te, pia Nympha, sensit."

Gray's Poemata.

1.

THERE's not a joy the world can give like that it takes

away,

When the glow of early thought declines in feeling's

dull decay;

'Tis not on youth's smooth cheek the blush alone, which fades so fast,

But the tender bloom of heart is gone, ere youth itself

be past.

2.

Then the few whose spirits float above the wreck of happiness,

Are driven o'er the shoals of guilt or ocean of excess : The magnet of their course is gone, or only points in

vain

The shore to which their shiver'd sail shall never stretch

again.

*These Verses were given by Lord Byron to Mr. Fower, Strand, who has published them, with very beautiful music by Sir John Stevenson.

3.

Then the mortal coldness of the soul like death itself

comes down;

It cannot feel for others' woes, it dare not dream its own; That heavy chill has frozen o'er the fountain of our

tears,

And though the eye may sparkle still, 'tis where the ice appears.

4.

Though wit may flash from fluent lips, and mirth distract the breast,

Through midnight hours that yield no more their former hope of rest;

'Tis but as ivy-leaves around the ruin'd turret wreath, All green and wildly fresh without, but worn and

gray

beneath.

5.

Oh could I feel as I have felt,

-or be what I have been, Or weep as I could once have wept, o'er many a

vanish'd scene:

As springs in deserts found seem sweet, all brackish though they be,

So midst the wither'd waste of life, those tears would

flow to me.