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SUN OF THE SLEEPLESS.

Sun of the sleepless ! melancholy star !
Whose tearful beam glows tremulously far,
That showest the darkness thou canst not dispel,
How like thou art to joy remembered well !
So gleams the past, the light of other days,
Which shines, but warms not with its powerless rays ;
A night-beam sorrow watcheth to behold,
Distinct, but distant; clear, but, oh, how cold!

Byron.

TO A NIGHTINGALE.

The woodman lifts towards thee his thoughtful eye,
Pauses and wonders as he passes by ;
And village girls their evening walks prolong,
With hearts enamoured of thy love-taught song.

Thou fairy amorist ! in the forest singing,

How sweetly wild is thy melodious strain!

Varied in accents, tremulously flinging

Fragments of wonder on my dizzy brain.
Spirit of light I the music of thy song

Descends upon me, even as a dream;
I pause enchanted, and would fain prolong.

Each magic note of thy impassioned theme.
Where art thou sitting ?-in the branches high

Of yon old oak, whose flower-embroidered trunk Rests on a soft mat where the harebells lie,

Its spreading roots 'neath mossy herbage sunk? Minstrel of heaven ! is that thy leafy bower,

Where, like the queen of beauty, thou dost shade Thy gentle self in this voluptuous hour,

As in a veil of innocence arrayed ?The feathered choir to rest their wings have made A favourite haunt near thee, and mute, and fond, They listen, scattered in the boughs beyond. Hush! 'tis the mountain echoes that descend To wander thro' the trees !--they softly blend With every pause an answer so divine, They emulate, sweet bird ! that gentle song of thine.Children of air ! prolong the flowery tale,

Fill every bough, touch every living leaf, Let soft persuasive melody prevail,

That every heart, forgetful of its grief,

Like mine, exulting for an hour may be,
Uplifted on the wings of wildest ecstacy!

Alastor.

THE VASSAL'S LAMENT FOR THE FALLEN

TREE.

“ Here, (at Brereton, in Cheshire,) is one thing incredibly strange,

but attested, as I myself have heard, by many persons, and commonly believed. Before any heir of this family dies, there are seen, in a lake adjoining, the bodies of trees swimming on the water for several days.”

CAMDEN's BRITANNIA.

Yes! I have seen the ancient oak

On the dark deep water cast,
And it was not felled by the woodman's stroke,

Or the rush of the sweeping blast;
For the axe might never touch that tree,
And the air was still as a summer-sea.

.

I saw it fall, as falls a chief

By an arrow in the fight;
And the old woods shook, to their loftiest leaf,

At the crashing of its might!

And the startled deer to their coverts flew, And the spray of the lake as a fountain's dew.

'Tis fallen! but think thou not I

weep For the forest's pride o’erthrown ; An old man's tears lie far too deep

To be poured for this alone!
But by that sign too well I know,
That a youthful head must soon be low !

A youthful head, with its shining hair,

And its bright quick-flashing eye-
Well may I weep ! for the boy is fair,

Too fair a thing to die !
But on his brow the mark is set-
Oh! could my life redeem him yet!

He bounded by me as I gazed

Alone on the fatal sign,
And it seemed like sunshine when he raised

His joyous glance to mine!
With a stag's fleet step he bounded by,
So full of lifebut he must not die !

He must, he must ! in' that deep dell,

By that dark water's side,

'Tis known that ne'er a proud tree fell,

But an heir of his father died ; And he-there's laughter in his eye, Joy in his voice-yet he must die!

I've borne him in these arms, that now

Are nerveless and unstrung ;
And must I see on that fair brow,

The dust untimely flung ?
I must !-yon green oak, branch and crest,
Lies floating on the dark lake's breast !

The noble boy !-how proudly sprung

The falcon from his hand ! It seemed like youth to see

him

young,
A flower in his father's land !
But the hour of the knell and the dirge is nigh,
For the tree hath fallen, and the flower must die.

Say not 'tis vain -I tell thee, some

Are warned by a meteor's light,
Or a pale bird flitting calls them home,

Or a voice on the winds by night;
And they must go !—and he too, he-
Woe for the fall of the glorious tree !

Mrs Hemans.

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