THE CAIRNGORM. A HIGHLAND HUSBAND'S Gift, WEAR thy mountain's diamond, fairest ! In thy waving hair; It will noblest seem, and rarest For only this dark gem can vie With those brown tresses' burnished dye, If it might touch thy spotless brow, Thy wedded love would living be. Or hanging on thy ear, dearest, But place it on thy hand, sweetest, And when a stranger's hand thou meetest, And thou shalt lute and tablet take In bower or chamber for my sake; And it shall teach thy pen to shew How thought should speak when speech is true. Then hide it in thy breast, dearest ! If it be pure as fair, When to thy heart this gem is nearest, For it has spells more deep and strong THE POET. V. Oн say not that truth does not dwell with the lyre, Thrown o'er the snow mountains, will sparkle, not melt. It is not the Alpine hills rich with the ray Of sunset can image the soul of the bard; The light of the evening around them may play, But the frost-work beneath is, though bright, cold and hard. 'Tis the burning volcano, that ceaselessly glows, Where the minstrel may find his own semblance pourtrayed; Ah, deeply the minstrel has felt all he sings, Then say not his love is a fugitive fire, L. E. L. TO THE MEMORY OF IDA. Oh! what are thousand living loves To one, that cannot quit the dead.-BYRON. WELL-though the clouds of sorrow haste, With darkening gloom, and threatening roll, To blight existence to a waste, And shut out sunshine from my soul, Departed Ida! rather far My musing thought would dwell on thee, Than join the mirthful, and the jar Of voices loud, and spirits free. Sad alteration!-Here alone, Where we so oft together sate, With hearts, where love's commingling tone Had linked us to one mutual fate: I gaze around me where art thou, Whose glance was sunshine to the spot? These roses bloomed, as they bloom now, But thou art-where-I see thee not! Oh! never more-oh! never more And see thee in my waking dreams. Then welcome be the doom that calls The fleur-de-lis with purple vest,— Removed from earth, and laid to rest. Oh! do not breathe on Ida's lute "Twould make her vanished form appear, Since Ida's breathing now is mute Since Ida's voice I cannot hear. All music, and all melody, The azure stream, and leafy tree, The glories of the earth and sky Are stripped of half their charms for me! Then welcome be the flapping sail, And welcome be the stormy main, And never may the breezes fail, But when they bring me back again! And I will wander o'er the deep, And brave the tempest's threatening harms, Since not a shore to which we sweep, To me can proffer Ida's arms! Oh! Ida, ever lost and dear, Soon come the day, and come it must, We two shall roam, and never part. NAUTA. FRAGMENT. A SOLITUDE Of green and silent beauty, just a home And not a taint of earth is on the air, Which the lip drinks pure as the stream whose source For even that, though shielded by God's name, Is covered with dark pines, which in the spring As parents do, rejoicing o'er their children In the green promise of their youthful shoots, The spreading of their fresh and fragrant leaves. The other part is thinly scattered o'er With dwarf oaks, stinted both in leaves and growth. And in the midst there are two stately firs, The one dark in its hoary foilage, like A warrior armed for battle; but the next Has lost its leafy panoply, the bark Stripped from the trunk, the boughs left black and bare By some fierce storm to which it would not bend :Like a high spirit, proud, though desolate. At one end is a cavern, musical With falling waters: roof, and floor, and walls Are set with sparry gems, snow turned to treasure; |