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Hath been thine exiled youth ; but now take back,
To thy heart's holy place; there let them dwell We shall o'ersweep the grave to meet-Farewell!
THE BRIDE OF THE GREEK ISLE.*
Fear! I'm a Greek, and how should I fear death ?
I will not live degraded.
COME from the woods with the citron-flowers,
Come with your lyres for the festal hours,
* Founded on a circumstance related in the Second Series of the Curiosities of Literature, and forming part of a picture in the " Painted Biography" there described.
Jewels flash'd out from her braided hair,
She look'd on the vine at her father's door,
Oh! hush the song, and let her tears
from her father's hall; She
goes unto love yet untried and new, She parts from love which hath still been true; Mute be the song and the choral strain, Till her heart's deep well-spring is clear again She wept on her mother's faithful breast, Like a babe that sobs itself to rest; She wept-yet laid her hand awhile In his that waited her dawning smile, Her soul's affianced, nor cherish'd less For the gush of nature's tenderness ! She lifted her graceful head at lastThe choking swell of her heart was past; And her lovely thoughts from their cells found way In the sudden flow of a plaintive lay. 3
THE BRIDE'S FAREWELL.
Why do I weep ?-to leave the vine
Whose clusters o'er me bend, The myrtle--yet, oh! call it mine!
The flowers I lov'd to tend.
A thousand thoughts of all things dear,
Like shadows o'er me sweep,
I leave my sunny childhood here,
Oh, therefore let me weep!
I leave thee, sister! we have play'd
Thro' many a joyous hour, Where the silvery green of the olive shade
Hung dim o'er fount and bower.
Yes, thou and I, by stream, by shore,
In song, in prayer, in sleep,
Kind sister, let me weep!