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180

NO, THAT CAN NEVER RE.

When fancy fails, with straining eye,
To trace his form on vacancy?

Twin treasure of the picture seem

Those folded lines. In hopeful dream
Of future blisses do they tell,

Or breathe they of the sad farewell?

Yet wherefore ask? On that sweet face
Their meaning, sympathy may trace;

For o'er thy brow of pensive shade

The mystic sign of hope delayed
Hath blended with its beauty. Why,
Unnoticed thus, so listlessly

Are held those lines? 'Tis that no more

Thou need'st to scan their music o'er;
For oft and oft repeated, they

Have proved the charm of many a day;

Repeated oft, repeated still,

Through many a lonely hour, until

They're turned by love's fond alchemy

To gold, within thy memory.

LOVER.

NO, THAT CAN NEVER BE!

ES! I must leave-Oh, yes!

But not the thoughts of thee;

For that can never be !

To absence, loneliness,

"Tis vain-'tis vain to flee;

MEMORY'S CONSOLATION.

I see thee not the less,

When memory's shades I see ;
And how can I repress

The rising thoughts of thee?

No, that can never be!

Yet must I leave; the grave
Shall be a home for me,
Where fettered grief shall have
A portion with the free.

I other than a slave

To thy strange witchery

Can never, never be!

From the Spanish of Alonzo de Castagena.

MEMORY'S CONSOLATION.

SAW that lovely cheek grow wan and pale
At our sad parting, as at times a cloud,
Stealing the morn or evening sun to shroud,
Casts o'er his glorious light an envious veil.
I saw the rose's orient colour fail,

Yielding to lilies wan its empire proud,

And saw, with joy elate, by sorrow bowed,

How from those eyes the pearls and crystal fell.
Oh, precious words, and oh, sweet tears, that steep
In pleasing sadness my devoted heart,

181

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