HE NEVER SMILED AGAIN. BY MRS. HEMANS. Henry I. (after the loss of Prince William) entertained hopes, for three days, that his son had put into some distant port of England; but when certain intelligence of the calamity was brought him, he fainted away; and it was remarked, that he never afterwards was seen to smile, nor ever recovered his wonted cheerfulness. HUME. THE bark that held a Prince went down, The sweeping waves rolled on; And what was England's glorious crown He lived-for life may long be borne Ere sorrow break its chain ! Why comes not death to those that mourn ?-- There stood proud forms around his throne, The stately and the brave; But which could fill the place of one, That one beneath the wave? Before him passed the young and fair In pleasure's reckless train; But seas dashed o'er his son's bright hair, He sat where festal bowls went round, He saw the tourney's victor crowned A murmur of the restless deep Seemed blent with every strain, A voice of winds that would not sleep He never smiled again! Hearts, in that time, closed o'er the trace And stranger's took the kinsman's place Graves which true love had washed with tears Were left to heaven's bright rain; Fresh hopes were born for other years— STANZAS BY LORD BYRON. AND wilt thou weep when I am low ? My heart is sad!—my hopes are gone !- And when I perish, thou alone Wilt sigh above my place of rest. And yet, methinks, a beam of peace Doth through my cloud of anguish shine; And, for a while my sorrows cease To know that heart hath felt for mine! O Lady! blessed be that tear, It falls for one who cannot weep; Such precious drops are doubly dear To those whose eyes no tears may steep. Sweet Lady! once my heart was warm Then wilt thou weep when I am low? Yet, if they grieve thee, say not so; DERWENT-WATER AND SKIDDAW. BY BARRY CORNWALL. DEEP stillness lies upon this lovely lake. And the soft air, through which the tempest ran So lately in its speed, rebels no more: The clouds are gone which but this morning gloomed But a few hours ago and sounds were heard Through all the region: Rain and the white hail sang Then shamed their gentle natures, and rose up And answered rudely the rude winds, which then Amongst themselves waged wild and glittering war. Oh! could imagination now assume The powers it lavished in the by-gone days On Fauns and Naiads, or in later times Village religion or wild fable flung O'er sylphs and gnomes and fairies, fancies strange, Here would I now compel to re-appear While round about their throne the fays should dance; Skiddaw! Eternal mountain, hast thou been Thou wast not dumb, nor to the rains when they Art thou indignant then, or hear I not? Z Stood up an everlasting mark to all Who wander: haply now some wretch, whose bark -And shall I, while these things may be, complain? A thing of grandeur; and throughout the year Be forgot ever) turns aside the winds Which else might kill the flowers of this sweet vale. London Magazine. FOR MUSIC. THOU art looking on the face of night, my love! Methinks it is A world of bliss For spirits all softness and light, my love! This earth is so chilled with care, my dear! With the cloudless rays It would have in a world so fair, my dear! But my wish to visit that star, dear love! Of idolatry Breathes with thee like that planet afar, dear love! Literary Gazette. L. E. L. |