My sleep must be the unwaking sleep,
My bed must be the

grave :
Through my wild brain no more shall move
Or fear, or hope, or joy, or love.

Croly.

TO ELLEN.

Though time hath not wreathed

My temples with snow,
Though age hath not breathed

A spell o'er my brow,
Yet care's withered fingers

Press on me with pain ;
The fleeting pulse lingers,

And lingers in vain.

The
eyes

which behold thee,
Their brightness is flown;
The arms which enfold thee

Enfeebled are grown:
And friendship hath left me,

By fortune estranged;
All, all is bereft me,-

For thou, too, art changed !

Yes, dark ills have clouded

The dawning in tears ;
Adversity shrouded

My ripening years :
Life's path, wild and dreary,

Draws nigh to its close ;
Heart-broken and weary

I sigh for repose.

The world shall caress thee

When I cease to be;
And suns rise to bless thee

Which smile not for me :
And hearts shall adore thee,

And bend at thy shrine ;
But none bow before thee

So truly as mine.

Southey.

WHERE IS HE ?

And where is he ? Not by the side

Of her whose wants he loved to tend; Not o'er those valleys wandering wide,

Where, sweetly lost, he oft would wend;

That form beloved he marks no more,

Those scenes admired no more shall see ; Those scenes are lovely as before,

And she as fair ;--but where is he?

No, no; the radiance is not dim,

That used to gild his favourite hill ; The pleasures that were dear to him,

Are dear to life and nature still : But, ah ! his home is not as faire,

Neglected must his gardens be, The lilies droop and wither there,

And seem to whisper,' where is her

His was the pomp, the crowded hall, i

But where is now this proud display! His riches, honours, pleasures, all,

Desire could frame ; but where are they? And he, as some tall rock that stands

Protected by the circling sea, Surrounded by admiring bands,

Seemed proudly strong--and where is be?

The churchyard bears an added stone,

The fireside shows a vacant chair ; Here sadness dwells, and weeps alone,

And death displays his banner there :

The life is gone, the breath has fled,

And what has been no more shall be ; The well-known form, the welcome tread,

O where are they, and where is he?

Neele.

THE FICKLENESS OF LOVE.

Alas I-how light a cause may move
Dissension between hearts that love !
Hearts that the world in vain has tried,
And sorrow but more closely tied; 1
That stood the storm when waves were rough,
Yet in a sunny hour fall off,
Like ships that have gone down at sea,
When heaven was all tranquillity!
A something light as air a look,

A word unkind or wrongly taken0! love, that tempests never shook,

A breath, 'a touch like this has shaken
And ruder words will soon rush in
To spread the breach that words begin ;
And eyes forget the gentle ray
They wore in courtship's smiling day;

And voices lose the tone that shed
A tenderness round all they said ;
Till fast declining, one by one,
The sweetnesses of love are gone, .
And hearts, so lately mingled, seem
Like broken clouds-or like the stream
That smiling left the mountain's brow,

As though its waters ne'er could sever, Yet, ere it reach the plains below,

Breaks into floods that part for ever.

O you that have the charge of love,

Keep him in rosy bondage bound, As in the fields of bliss above

He sits, with flowerets fettered round: Loose not a tie that round him clings,

Nor ever let him use his wings;
For even an hour, a minute's flight
Will rob the plumes of balf their light,
Like that celestial bird, whose nest

Is found below far eastern skies, Whose wings, though radiant when at rest,

Lose all their glory when he flies ! Some difference of this dangerous kind,By which, though light, the links that bind

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