It seemed as if the hour were one Sent from beyond the skies, Which scattered from above the sun A light of Paradise.

II.

We paused amid the pines that stood The giants of the waste,

Tortured by storms to shapes as rude
As serpents interlaced,

And soothed by every azure breath
That under heaven is blown,
To harmonies and hues beneath,
As tender as its own;

Now all the tree tops lay asleep,
Like green waves on the sea,
As still as in the silent deep
The ocean woods may be.

III.

How calm it was!-the silence there

By such a chain was bound, That even the busy woodpecker Made stiller by her sound

The inviolable quietness;

The breath of peace we drew With its soft motion made not less The calm that round us grew. There seemed from the remotest seat

Of the wide mountain waste.

To the soft flower beneath our feet,

A magic circle traced;
A spirit interfused around
A thrilling silent life,
To momentary peace it bound
Our mortal nature's strife ;-
And still I felt the centre of

The magic circle there,

Was one fair form that filled with love

The lifeless atmosphere.

IV.

We paused beside the pools that lie
Under the forest bough,
Each seemed as 'twere a little sky
Gulfed in a world below;
A firmament of purple light,

Which in the dark earth lay,
More boundless than the depth of night,

And purer than the day;

In which the lovely forests grew,

As in the upper air,

More perfect both in shape and hue

Than any spreading there.

There lay the glade and neighbouring lawn,

And through the dark green wood

The white sun twinkling like the dawn

Out of a speckled cloud.

Sweet views which in our world above

Can never well be seen,

Were imaged by the water's love
Of that fair forest green.
And all was interfused beneath
With an Elysian glow,

An atmosphere without a breath,

A softer day below.

Like one beloved the scene had lent
To the dark water's breast,
Its every leaf and lineament
With more than truth exprest,
Until an envious wind crept by,
Like an unwelcome thought,
Which from the mind's too faithful eye

Blots one dear image out.
Though thou art ever fair and kind,

The forests ever green,

Less oft is peace in S―'s mind,
Than calm in waters seen.

ΤΟ

THE keen stars were twinkling,

And the fair moon was rising among them,
Dear * * * !

The guitar was tinkling,

But the notes were not sweet till you sung them

Again.

As the moon's soft splendor

The stars will awaken,

Though the moon sleep a full hour later

To-night;

No leaf will be shaken

Whilst the dews of your melody scatter
Delight.

Though the sound overpowers,

Sing again, with your dear voice revealing A tone

Of some world far from ours,

Where music and moonlight and feeling
Are one.

LINES.

WHEN the lamp is shattered,
The light in the dust lies dead;
When the cloud is scattered,
The rainbow's glory is shed;
When the lute is broken,
Sweet tones are remembered not;
When the lips have spoken,

Loved accents are soon forgot.

As music and splendor

Survive not the lamp and the lute,
The heart's echoes render

Να song when the spirit is mute, —
No song but sad dirges,

Like the wind through a ruined cell,
Or the mournful surges

That ring the dead seaman's knell.

When hearts have once mingled,
Love first leaves the well-built nest;
The weak one is singled

To endure what it once possest.
O Love! who bewailest

The frailty of all things here,
Why choose you the frailest

For your cradle, your home, and

Its passions will rock thee,

your

bier?

As the storms rock the ravens on high;

Bright reason will mock thee, Like the sun from a wintry sky.

From thy nest every rafter Will rot, and thine eagle home

Leave thee naked to laughter,

When leaves fall and cold winds come.