Ah, why do we fondness cherish

For all that but gleams to fade?
Wouldst thou weep, if thou saw'st me perish?
Mayhap, for an hour. Poor maid!

Fond woman's true heart to measure,
But rarely thy sex can rise;
She loves not for sportive pleasure;
She loves, as saints love the skies.
She sets her all,
Whate'er befall,

On one poor earthly cast, ah me !
And if she yearn

For full return,

How vain her thirst may be!

And yet, if that hope be madness,

We cherish the darling woe;

There's a charm in love's deepest sadness:
Would I cease then to love thee? No.

HIS ANSWER.

X.

SWEETEST of chiders, in all things I see
Shadows and emblems and echoes of thee.

Blame not this heart if, through love's bounteous cheer,
It count the whole universe sacred and dear.

Yet, sweet, I doubt not, by order divine,
Purer, nay deeper, thy nature than mine.
Man is the river that sweeps to its goal;
Woman the lakelet that mirrors the soul.

Life, active life, may the currents divide,
Rocks may arrest them, gain trouble the tide:
Only at eve seem the waters to rest,

When the starshine of happiness sleeps on their breast.

So, when the strife of the hot day is o'er
Ever thy presence to health shall restore.
Fancy's wild visions might tempt us to roam;
Bind shall the heart's priceless magnet to home.

ALONE with thee; earth's strains afar seem calling,
While faintly steals eve's shadow o'er the sea;
No shade of doubt athwart this soul is falling;
I seek for light in God alone, and thee!
Harsh hearts may scorn us; dream'st thou, I regret?
No, let the mighty scowl, the base deride:

My all with thee upon the cast is set,
And bliss is mine, if I can feel me yet
Thy spirit's bride.

Men know thee not; men dare to scorn and hate thee;
Seek in my bosom nobler sympathies !
Though in myself unworthy all to mate thee,
Yet, in my love, to thy pure height I rise.
Say, wilt thou hail in me the mirror clearest,
The echo fond, which earth till now denied?
What? that my soul should pine for wealth, thou fearest?
O best beloved, O first and ever dearest,

I am thy bride!

So, all in vain would myriad empires lure me,
Back from that side where first I learn'd to reign,
Reign in the royal thoughts which deep assure me
That all I prized till now was worse than vain.
the selfish chide, the cold condemn,

So may

Our love by heav'n is blest, and blest shall be;
So let the world neglect, forget, contemn!

I am thy bride, what should I care for them,
Alone with thee?

XII.

SONG OF THE WIFE.

(In After Years.)

YES, this heart was a timid thing
That fear'd it knew not why,
As the young bird spreads its wing
When a zephyr flutters by.

But should lightnings glare around me,
And heav'n's thunders crash above,
I could joy, since thou hast found me,
And seek shelter in thy love:
Yes, my fear

Now proves dear;

Thou to chide and shield art near.

I have shrunk in pale affright

From the world's rough bitter ways, From deceit and lawless might,

From the noontide's scorching rays; But in danger, when I listen

To the arrogant world-blast,

I see thy dear eyes glisten,

And dread and care are past:
Then my fear

Proves more dear;

Thou to chide and shield art near.

So the dread of love's young dawn,
That thy heart might tire of mine,
When like some mute startled fawn
I have sought the woods to pine;
This hath slowly, surely faded,

'Neath the sunshine of thine eyes,
Till faith's mirror shines unshaded,
Faint reflecting back the skies.
So no fear

Lingers here,

Save the dread to lose thee, dear!

TWO EARLY PRONUNCIAMENTOS.

I.

Он, blame me not, because I love
My native isle !

I find, where'er my footsteps rove,
Force, change, and guile;

But-open honour, candour free,-
Britain! for these I turn to thee.

Then let each swelling brawler boast

His martial fame!

We fear not, we, earth's threat'ning host, While right's our aim.

Britain, though loud thy foemen yell, Thy wooden walls shall shield thee well.

Russia, the empire of the knout,

Sad Germany,

Italia with its Popish rout,

Are scarce for me;

All these do slavery's bonds defile;

I love, I love my native isle.