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STANZAS.

155

If that forın looked forth so lovely,

If the sweet face smiled
Down into the lonesome valley,

Peaceful, angel-mild.
There a corse they found him sitting

Once when day returned,
Still his pale and placid features
To the lattice turned.

F. VON SCHILLER. (Anonymous Translation.)

Stanzas.

Hen I quanto minus est cum reliquis versari quám tui meminisse !

AND thou art dead, as young and fair

aught
And form so soft, and charms so rare

Too soon returned to earth!
Though earth received them in her bed,
And o'er the spot the crowd may tread

In carelessness or mirth,
There is an eye which could not brook
A moment on that grave to look.

I will not ask where thou liest low,

Nor gaze upon the spot;
There flowers or weeds at will may grow,

So I behold them not;
It is enough for me to prove
That what I loved, and long must love,

Like common earth can rot;
To me there needs no stone to tell,
'Tis Nothing that I loved so well.

Yet did I love thee to the last,

As fervently as thou,
Who didst not change through all the past,

And can'st not alter now.
The love where Death has set his seal,
Nor age can chill, nor rival steal,

Nor falsehood disavow:
And, what were worse, thou can'st not see
Or wrong, or change, or fault in me.

The better days of life were ours;

The worst can be but mine;
The sun that shines, the storm that lowers,

Shall never more be thine.
The silence of that dreamless sleep
I envy now too much to weep;

Nor need I to repine
That all those charms have passed away,
I might have watched through long decay.

The flower in ripened bloom unmatched

Must fall the earliest prey ;
Though by no hand untimely snatched,

The leaves must drop away.
And yet it were a greater grief
To watch it withering leaf by leaf,

Than see it plucked to-day ;
Since earthly eye but ill can bear
To trace the change to foul from fair.

I know not if I could have borne

To see thy beauties fade;
The night that followed such a morn

Had worn a deeper shade;
Thy day without a cloud hath past,
And thou wert lovely to the last,

Extinguished, not decayed :
As stars that shoot along the sky,
Shine brightest as they fall from high.

EVELYN HOPE.

157

As once I wept if I could weep,

My tears might well be shed
To think I was not near, to keep

One vigil o'er thy bed;
To gaze, how fondly! on thy face,
To fold thee in a fond embrace,

Uphold thy drooping head;
And show that love, however vain,
Nor thou nor I can feel again.

Yet how much less it were to gain,

Though thou hast left me free-
The loveliest things that still remain,

Than to remember thee!
The all of thee that cannot die
Through dark and dread eternity,

Returns again to me,
And more thy buried love endears
Than aught except its living years.

LORD BYRON.

Evelyn Hope. BEAUTIFUL Evelyn Hope is dead !

Sit and watch by her side an hour. That is her book-shelf, this her bed;

She plucked that piece of geranium-flower, Beginning to die, too, in the glass.

Little lias yet been changed, I think; The shutters are shut-no light may pass,

Save two long rays through the hinge's chink.

Sixteen years old when she died !

Perhaps she had scarcely heard my name It was not her time to love; beside,

Her life had many a hope and aim,

Duties enough and little cares;

And now was quiet, now astirTill God's hand beckoned unawares,

And the sweet white brow is all of her.

Is it too late, then, Evelyn Hope?

What ! your soul was pure and true; The good stars met in your horoscope,

Made you of spirit, fire, and dew; And just because I was thrice as old,

And our paths in the world diverged so wide, Each was naught to each, must I be told?

We were fellow-mortals-naught beside ?

No, indeed! for God above

Is great to grant, as mighty to make, And creates the love to reward the love;

I claim you still, for my own love's sake! Delayed, it may be, for more lives yet,

Through worlds I shall traverse, not a few; Much is to learn, and much to forget,

Ere the time be come for taking you.

But the time will come--at last it will

When, Evelyn Hope, what meant, I shall say, In the lower earth-in the years long still

That body and soul so pure and gay; Why your hair was amber I shall divine,

And your mouth of your own geranium's red And what you would do with me, in fine,

In the new life come in the old one's stead.

I have lived, I shall say, so much since then,

Given up myself so many times, Gained me the gains of various men,

Ransacked the ages, spoiled the climes;

HIGHLAND MARY.

159

Yet one thing-one-in my soul's full scope,

Either I missed or itself missed meAnd I want and find you, Evelyn Hope !

What is the issue ? let us see !

I loved you, Evelyn, all the while;

My heart seemed full as it could holdThere was place and to spare for the frank young smile,

And the red young mouth, and the hair's young gold So, hush! I will give you this leaf to keep;

See, I shut it inside the sweet, cold hand.
There, that is our secret! go to sleep :
You will wake, and remember, and understand.

ROBERT BROWNING.

Highland Mary.

YE

E banks, and braes, and streams around

The castle o' Montgomery,
Green be your woods, and fair your flowers,

Your waters never drumlie!
There simmer first unfald her robes,

And there the langest tarry! For there I took the last fareweel

O’ my sweet Highland Mary.

How sweetly bloomed the gay green birk !

How rich the hawthorn blossom !
As, underneath their fragrant shade,

I clasped her to my bosom !
The golden hours, on angel wings,

Flew o'er me and my dearie ;
For dear to me as light and life

Was my sweet Highland Mary.

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