But scarcely had that gush of harmony been heard, when the sacred bird, which had, till now, been standing motionless as an image, spread wide his wings, and flew into the temple; while his graceful young worshippers, with a fleetness like his own, followed-and she, who had left a dream in my heart never to be forgotten, vanished along with the rest. As she went rapidly past the pillar against which I leaned, the ivy that encircled it caught in her drapery, and disengaged some ornament, which fell to the ground. It was the small mirror which I had seen shining on her bosom. Hastily and tremulously I picked it up, and hurried to restore it; but she was already lost to my eyes in the crowd.

In vain did I try to follow ;-the aisles were already filled, and numbers of eager pilgrims pressed towards the portal. But the servants of the temple denied all further entrance, and still, as I presented myself, their white wands barred the way. Perplexed and irritated amid that crowd of faces, regarding all as enemies that impeded my progress, I stood on tiptoe, gazing into the busy aisles, and with a heart beating as I caught, from time to time, a glimpse of some spangled zone, or lotus wreath, which led me to fancy that I had discovered the fair object of my search. But it was all in vain;-in every direction files of sacred nymphs were moving, but nowhere could I discover her whom alone I sought.

In this state of breathless agitation did I stand for some time-bewildered with the confusion of faces and lights, as well as with the clouds of incense that rolled around metill, fevered and impatient, I could endure it no longer. Forcing my way out of the vestibule into the cool air, I hurried back through the alley of sphinxes to the shore, and flung myself into my boat.

BERMUDA.

(FROM "POEMS RELATING TO AMERICA.")

Farewell to Bermuda, and long may the bloom
Of the lemon and myrtle its valleys perfume;
May spring to eternity hallow the shade,
Where Ariel has warbled and Waller has stray'd.
And thou—when, at dawn, thou shalt happen to

roam

Through the lime-covered alley that leads to thy

home,

And the stars were beginning to fade in the sun,
I have led thee along, and have told by the way
What my heart all the night had been burning to

say

Oh! think of the past-give a sigh to those times, And a blessing for me to that alley of limes

A CANADIAN BOAT SONG.

WRITTEN ON THE RIVER ST. LAWRENCE.

Faintly as tolls the evening chime
Our voices keep tune and our oars keep time.
Soon as the woods on shore look dim,
We'll sing at St. Ann's our parting hymn.
Row, brothers, row, the stream runs fast,
The Rapids are near and the daylight's past.

Why should we yet our sail unfurl?
There is not a breath the blue wave to curl;
But, when the wind blows off the shore,
Oh! sweetly we'll rest our weary oar.
Blow, breezes, blow, the stream runs fast,
The Rapids are near and the daylight's past.

Utawas' tide! this trembling moon Shall see us float over thy surges soon. Saint of this green isle! hear our prayers, Oh, grant us cool heavens and favouring airs. Blow, breezes, blow, the stream runs fast, The Rapids are near and the daylight's past.

DIALOGUE BETWEEN A SOVEREIGN AND A ONE-POUND NOTE.

(FROM "SATIRICAL AND HUMOROUS POEMS.")

Said a Sov'reign to a Note, In the pocket of my coat, Where they met in a neat purse of leather, "How happens it, I prithee,

That, though I'm wedded with thee,
Fair Pound, we can never live together?

"Like your sex, fond of change,
With silver you can range,

And of lots of young sixpences be mother;
While with me--upon my word,

Not my Lady and my Lord

Of W-stm-th see so little of each other!"

The indignant Note replied (Lying crumpled by his side), "Shame, shame, it is yourself that roam, SirOne cannot look askance,

But, whip! you're off to France, Leaving nothing but old rags at home, Sir.

And that horrid yard-measure uprais'd in his hand!

Oh-Papa, all along, knew the secret, 'tis clear

At the smallest hint in life,

You forsake your lawful wife,

As other Sovereigns did before you.

"I flirt with Silver, true

But what can ladies do,

When disown'd by their natural protectors?

And as to falsehood, stuff!

I shall soon be false enough,

dear!

The man, whom I fondly had fancied a king,
And, when that too delightful illusion was past,
As a hero had worshipp'd-vile, treacherous thing-
To turn out but a low linen-draper at last!
My head swam around-the wretch smil'd, I be-
lieve,

But his smiling, alas, could no longer deceive

The Sovereign, smiling on her, Now swore, upon his honour, To be henceforth domestic and loyal; But, within an hour or two, Why I sold him to a Jew, And he's now at No. 10 Palais Royal.

EPISTLE FROM MISS BIDDY FUDGE TO MISS DOROTHY.

(FROM "THE FUDGE FAMILY IN PARIS.") Oh, Dolly, dear Dolly, I'm ruin'd for everI ne'er shall be happy again, Dolly, never! To think of the wretch-what a victim was I! 'Tis too much to endure-I shall die, I shall dieMy brain's in a fever-my pulses beat quickI shall die, or, at least, be exceedingly sick! Oh, what do you think? after all my romancing, My visions of glory, my sighing, my glancing, This Colonel-I scarce can commit it to paper'This Colonel's no more than a vile linen-draper!! 'Tis true as I live-I had coax'd brother Bob so, (You'll hardly make out what I'm writing, I sob so,) For some little gift on my birth-day-September The thirtieth, dear, I'm eighteen, you rememberThat Bob to a shop kindly order'd the coach,

(Ah, little I thought who the shopman would prove),

To bespeak me a few of those mouchoirs de poche, Which, in happier hours, I have sigh'd for, my love

(The most beautiful things-two Napoleons the price

And one's name in the corner embroider'd so nice!) Well, with heart full of pleasure, I enter'd the shop, But-ye Gods, what a phantom!-I thought I should drop

wither

And, pale as a ghost, I was carried back hither!
I only remember that Bob, as I caught him,
With cruel facetiousness said, "Curse the Kiddy!
A staunch Revolutionist always I've thought him,
But now I find out he's a counter one, Biddy!"

Only think, my dear creature, if this should be known

To that saucy, satirical thing, Miss Malone!
What a story 'twill be at Shandangan for ever!
What laughs and what quizzing she'll have with
the men!

It will spread through the country-and never, oh, never

Can Biddy be seen at Kilrandy again! Farewell I shall do something desp'rate, I fearAnd, ah! if my fate ever reaches your ear, One tear of compassion my Doll will not grudge To her poor-broken-hearted-young friend,

BIDDY FUDGE.

Nota bene-I am sure you will hear, with delight,
That we're going, all three, to see Brunet to-night,
A laugh will revive me-and kind Mr. Cox
(Do you know him?) has got us the Governor's box.

TO MY MOTHER. WRITTEN IN A POCKET-BOOK, 1822. They tell us of an Indian tree,

Which, howsoe'er the sun and sky May tempt its boughs to wander free, And shoot, and blossom, wide and high, Far better loves to bend its arms

Downward again to that dear earth, From which the life, that fills and warms Its grateful being, first had birth.

THE TEARS OF PENITENCE.

(FROM "PARADISE AND THE PERI.")

And now-behold him kneeling there
By the child's side, in humble pray'r,
While the same sunbeam shines upon
The guilty and the guiltless one,

And hymns of joy proclaim through Heav'n
The triumph of a Soul Forgiv'n!

'Twas when the golden orb had set,
While on their knees they linger'd yet,
There fell a light more lovely far
Than ever came from sun or star,
Upon the tear that, warm and meek,
Dew'd that repentant sinner's cheek.
To mortal eye this light might seem
A northern flash or meteor beam-
But well the' enraptur'd Peri knew
'Twas a bright smile the Angel threw

1 This and the three following extracts are from the four tales of Lalla Rookh.

BEAUTY.

(FROM "THE FIRE-WORSHIPPERS.")

Oh what a pure and sacred thing

Is Beauty, curtain'd from the sight Of the gross world, illumining

One only mansion with her light! Unseen by man's disturbing eye,

The flow'r that blooms beneath the sea, Too deep for sunbeams, doth not lie Hid in more chaste obscurity.

A soul, too, more than half divine,

Where, through some shades of earthly feeling, Religion's soften'd glories shine,

Like light through summer foliage stealing, Shedding a glow of such mild hue, So warm, and yet so shadowy too, As makes the very darkness there More beautiful than light elsewhere.

LIGHT CAUSES MAY CREATE DISSEN

SION.

(FROM "THE LIGHT OF THE HAREM.")

Alas!-how light a cause may move

Dissension between hearts that love!

Hearts that the world in vain had tried,

And sorrow but more closely tied;

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 taken-
Oh! love, that tempests never shook,

A breath, a touch like this hath 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

And call young lovers round, to view

As though its waters ne'er could sever, Yet, ere it reach the plain below, Breaks into floods, that part for ever.

The pilgrim pair, as they pursue Their pathway towards eternity.

NAMA AND ZARAPH'S LOVE.

(FROM THE LOVES OF THE ANGELS.")

Oh Love, Religion, Music-all

That's left of Eden upon earth-
The only blessings, since the fall
Of our weak souls, that still recall
A trace of their high, glorious birth-
How kindred are the dreams you bring!

How Love, though unto earth so prone, Delights to take Religion's wing,

When time or grief hath stain'd his own! How near to Love's beguiling brink, Too oft, entranc'd Religion lies! While Music, Music is the link

They both still hold by to the skies, The language of their native sphere, Which they had else forgotten here.

To love as her own Seraph loved,

With Faith, the same through bliss and woe-
Faith, that, were even its light removed,
Could, like the dial, fix'd remain,
And wait till it shone out again;-
With Patience that, though often bow'd

By the rude storm, can rise anew;
And Hope that, even from Evil's cloud,

Sees sunny Good half breaking through!
This deep, relying Love, worth more
In heaven than all a cherub's lore-
This Faith, more sure than aught beside,
Was the sole joy, ambition, pride

Of her fond heart-the unreasoning scope
Of all its views, above, below-

So true she felt it that to hope,

To trust, is happier than to know.
And thus in humbleness they trod,
Abash'd, but pure before their God;
Nor e'er did earth behold a sight
So meekly beautiful as they,
When, with the altar's holy light

Full on their brows, they knelt to pray,

Hand within hand, and side by side,

Two links of love, awhile untied
From the great chain above, but fast
Holding together to the last!

Like two fair mirrors, face to face, Whose light, from one to the other thrown, Is heaven's reflection, not their ownShould we e'er meet with aught so pure, So perfect here, we may be sure

'Tis Zaraph and his bride we see;

There is not in the wide world a valley so sweet As that vale in whose bosom the bright waters meet; Oh! the last rays of feeling and life must depart, Ere the bloom of that valley shall fade from my heart.

Yet it was not that Nature had shed o'er the scene Her purest of crystal and brightest of green; 'Twas not her soft magic of streamlet or hill, Oh! no, it was something more exquisite still. 'Twas that friends, the belov'd of my bosom, were

near,

Who made every dear scene of enchantment more dear,

And who felt how the best charms of nature im.

prove,

When we see them reflected from looks that we

love.