While sending forth a quiet gleam

Across the wood's repose,

And o'er the twilight of the stream,

A lowly chapel rose.

A pathway to that still retreat

Thro' many a myrtle wound, And there a sight—how strangely sweet!

My steps in wonder bound.

For on a brilliant bed of flowers,

Even at the threshold made, As if to sleep thro' sultry hours,

A
young

fair child was laid.

To sleep?-oh! ne'er on childhood's eye,

And silken lashes press’d,
Did the warm living slumber lie,

With such a weight of rest !

Yet still a tender crimson glow

Its cheek's pure marble dyed"Twas but the light's faint streaming flow

Thro’ roses heap'd beside.

I stoop'd—the smooth round arm was chill,

The soft lip's breath was fled, And the bright ringlets hung so still

The lovely child was dead!

66 Alas !” I cried, “fair faded thing!

Thou hast wrung bitter tears, And thou hast left a wo, to cling

Round yearning hearts for years !"

But then a voice came sweet and low

I turn'd, and near me sate
A woman with a mourner's brow,

Pale, yet not desolate.

And in her still, clear, matron face,

All solemnly serene,

A shadow'd image I could trace

Of that young slumberer's mien.

“Stranger ! thou pitiest me,” she said,

With lips that faintly smiled, 66 As here I watch beside my dead,

My fair and precious child.

be

“ But know, the time-worn heart may

By pangs in this world riven, Keener than theirs who yield, like me,

An angel thus to Heaven !"

THE CAPTIVE KNIGHT.

The prisoned thrush may brook the cage,
The captive eagle dies for rage.

Lady of the Lake.

'Twas a trumpet's pealing sound ! And the knight look'd down from the Paynim's tower, And a Christian host in its pride and power,

Thro' the pass beneath him wound.
Cease awhile, clarion ! Clarion, wild and shrill,
Cease! let them hear the captive's voice-be still!

“I knew 'twas a trumpet's note!

And I see my brethren's lances gleam,
And their pennons wave by the mountain stream,

And their plumes to the glad wind float!
Cease awhile, clarion! Clarion, wild and shrill,
Cease! let them hear the captive's voice--be still!

“I am here, with my heavy chain! And I look on a torrent sweeping by, And an eagle rushing to the sky,

And a host, to its battle-plain! Cease awhile, clarion! Clarion, wild and shrill, Cease! let them hear the captive's voice-be still !

“ Must I pine in my fetters here? With the wild wave's foam, and the free bird's flight, And the tall spears glancing on my sight,

And the trumpet in mine ear? Cease awhile, clarion ! Clarion, wild and shrill, Cease! let them hear the captive's voice—be still !

They are gone! they have all pass'd by!
They in whose wars I had borne my part,
They that I lov'd with a brother's heart,

They have left me here to die !
Sound again, clarion ! Clarion pour thy blast!
Sound! for the captive's dream of hope is past."