Thro' my heart of hearts, and chasing all the discords

lingering yet On the ruffled waves of life that could not in an hour

forget. For, oh ! dream not that a spirit which has mingled

once with shame Can regain the crystal sunshine of pure hearts and spot

less fame; Ye who deem that after waters wash away the stains

of sinNo-no-no—the heart must suffer, aye for life-time,

deep within. Often on my holiest moments burst detested thoughts

and vile, Till she saw the cloud and chased it with the magic

of her smile. Soon we parted—but that radiance pass'd not into mist

or dreams, Haunting still deep mystic caverns with the light of

moonlight streams : Yes, we parted—but that music did not die mine

ears, For its cycle hath no boundary, and its * lordliness no

peers. Thrice we met and thrice were sever'd, this the last sad

farewell sound Ere earth’s links should bind, we whisper'd, those

heaven had already bound.

upon

'Twas a night of clouds and tempests sweeping thro'

the void of black, Every sad blast thro' the forest given in sadder echoes back, *“ Listening the lordly music flowing on

The illimitable years.”—TENNYSON's Ode to Memory.

Till they died among the cloisters with a melancholy

cry, As of restless moaning waters or dark spectres hurry

ing by. And drear thoughts would rise within me with their

weeping train of woes, But I shut my heart upon them, chased them ever as

they rose, Rambled on thro' fancy-labyrinths, dreaming o'er my

Adeline, Threw me on my couch, and sleeping, still dreamt on

that dream divine. And I thought she look'd upon me with her own un

troubled gaze, Blushing while my silent rapture praised as language

could not praise : But beneath my eye her beauty grew to deepness more

intense, All that could be earthly melting into heavenlier inno

cence.

Brother, Sleep hath eyes—and Silence hears strange

sounds at midnight hours, Wonder then unbars the caverns of her phantom

haunted towers, And we see prophetic visions—but, oh! never till that

time Saw I with my earnest eyes the secrets of night's lonely

chime. At her beauty I was troubled, so unearthly bright, and

deep, And I felt a cold misgiving stealing thro' my feverish

sleep. Brother, list ! my dreams were startled ; in my couch

I sate upright;

And I wildly gazed around me-not a star was in the

night, But a mild and chasten'd radiance softly streaming

fill’d my room, Cent’ring round her angel figure-even in death my

light in gloom. Yes, she stood there—from her eye the tears fell silently

and fast ; If ye will, fond human frailty still victorious to the last : Tears—aye well she knew the iron soon would rive this

quivering heart; Tears—her home was far away, and I an exile, we

must part. But methinks I could have borne far easier bosom

rending groans Than that mournful boding silence, and I cried in

passionate tones, “ Am I dreaming ? oh, beloved, gaze I on thee there

awake ? “ Wherefore weepest thou ? speak—speak, for soon this

bursting heart will break! “ Hast thou left me then for ever, here upon this deso

late shore ? “ Thou my only fellow-pilgrim-speak, speak, art thou

mine no more ?” And she spoke-her voice was music, music over waters

heard, The deep waters of that grief that in her bosom's

depths was stirred. “ Yes, mine own one, we are parted, such as time and

space can part “ But for ever and for ever we are one in soul and

heart ! “ This shall seal me thine"--and speaking, nearer to

my side she press’d,

And unclosed the bright apparel flowing o'er her angel

breast. Words may never tell my rapture, blent with awe

serenely proud, As I felt her presence bending o'er me like a golden

cloud; And a moment on my fluttering bosom she did lay her

own, Press'd her lips to mine—and in a moment I was

there-alone. Nothing saw I but the midnight's funeral blackness in

my room, Nothing heard I but the wind and raindrops driving

through the gloom : All my being, that had lately bloomed with flowers and

teem'd with springs, Seem’d one dreary vast alone,' a barren wilderness of

things. Aye alone—the spell of sunshine that had fallen on my

track, Now was far beyond the clouds, its native sky had

called it back : I was left o'er moor and mountain still to wander

wearily, And the dead leaves round me telling, Autumn had

come soon for me.

Never have I yet remember'd how that night did pass

away, And the morning dawn'd, tho' morning, still to me a

midnight day. She was dead, I knew more surely than if I had seen

her die, But grief clings to fragile anchors when the storms are

hurtling by.

So at morning set I forth my heartless, hopeless way to

wend, Sorrow clinging round my journey, sorrow brooding at

the end. But one met me, and he wept-I knew his tale ere he

begunShe had died as yester-midnight, dying as the bell

pealed 'one'! Heavy-hearted I return'd—I could not bear her corse

to see,

Whom I just had seen apparell'd like one of the far

countree. Yes, I felt my heart was broken ! tho’ for years it did

not die, But it must be with its treasure up in yon eternal sky. God, my Father, He was there—my blessed Saviour,

'twas His home, Adeline, and she who bore me harbour'd there, no more

to roam. And my earthly path was clouded, all its lingering

gleams had fled, Save the memories of communion with the living and

the dead. Oh, they sicken'd not, nor faded into fond imaginings, For true joys, if only true, immortal are 'mid mortal

things : Whilome they were golden lamps that o'er our pilgrim

pathway shone, Whose dear light we fondly blessed, and wended unre

pining on: And when number'd with the past, they sank not in the

misty sea With the foul and base-born glimmer of the world's

false-hearted glee, MARCH, 1847.