WRITTEN BENEATH A PICTURE.

1.

DEAR object of defeated care!

Though now of Love and thee bereft,

To reconcile me with despair

Thine image and my tears are left.

2.

"Tis said with Sorrow Time can cope; But this I feel can ne'er be true: For by the death-blow of my Hope My Memory immortal grew.

ON PARTING.

1.

THE kiss, dear maid! thy lip has left,

Shall never part from mine,

Till happier hours restore the gift

Untainted back to thine.

TO THYRZA.

WITHOUT a stone to mark the spot,

And say, what Truth might well have said, By all, save one, perchance forgot,

Ah, wherefore art thou lowly laid?
By many a shore and many a sea
Divided, yet beloved in vain ;
The past, the future fled to thee

To bid us meet-no-ne'er again!
Could this have been-a word, a look

That softly said, "We part in peace," Had taught my bosom how to brook,

With fainter sighs, thy soul's release. And didst thou not, since Death for thee Prepared a light and pangless dart, Once long for him thou ne'er shalt see,

Who held, and holds thee in his heart? Oh! who like him had watch'd thee here? Or sadly mark'd thy glazing eye, In that dread hour ere death appear, When silent Sorrow fears to sigh, Till all was past? But when no more 'Twas thine to reck of human woe,

ffection's heart-drops, gushing o'er,
Had flow'd as fast-as now they flow.
hall they not flow, when many a day
In these, to me, deserted towers,
re call'd but for a time away,

Affection's mingling tears were ours?
urs too the glance none saw beside;
The smile none else might understand;
he whisper'd thought of hearts allied,
The pressure of the thrilling hand;
The kiss so guiltless and refined

That Love each warmer wish forbore; hose eyes proclaim'd so pure a mind, Even passion blush'd to plead for more. he tone, that taught me to rejoice,owa When prone, unlike thee, to repine; he song, celestial from thy voice, But sweet to me from none but thine; he pledge we wore-I wear it still,

But where is thine?-ah, where art thou?

ft have I borne the weight of ill,
But never bent beneath till now!
'ell hast thou left in life's best bloom
The cup of woe for me to drain.
rest alone be in the tomb,

I would not wish thee here again;

›L. V.

But if in worlds more blest than this
Thy virtues seek a fitter sphere,
Impart some portion of thy bliss,

To wean me from mine anguish here.
Teach me too early taught by thee!
To bear, forgiving and forgiven:

On earth thy love was such to me;
It fain would form my hope in heaven!

STANZAS.

1.

AWAY, away, ye notes of woe!

Be silent, thou once soothing strain,
Or I must flee from hence, for, oh!

I dare not trust those sounds again.
To me they speak of brighter days-
But lull the chords, for now, alas!
I must not think, may not gaze

On what I am-on what I was.

The voice that made those sounds more sweet Is hush'd, and all their charms are fled;