XIV.

And I lie so composedly
Now in my bed,
Knowing her love,

That you fancy me dead;
And I rest so contentedly
Now in my bed,

With her love at my breast,
That you fancy me dead-
That you shudder to look at me,
Thinking me dead.

XV.

But my heart it is brighter
Than all of the many
Stars in the sky,

For it sparkles with Annie

It glows with the light

Of the love of my AnnieWith the thought of the light Of the eyes of my Annie.

BRIDAL BALLAD.

I.

THE ring is on my hand,

And the wreath is on my brow; Satins and jewels grand

Are all at my command,

And I am happy now.

II.

And my lord he loves me well;

But, when first he breathed his vow,

I felt my bosom swell,

For the words rang as a knell,

And the voice seemed his who fell

In the battle down the dell,

And who is happy now.

III.

But he spoke to reassure me,
And he kissed my pallid brow,
While a reverie came o'er me,
And to the churchyard bore me,
And I sighed to him before me,
Thinking him dead D'Elormie,
"O, I am happy now!"

IV.

And thus the words were spoken, And this the plighted vow; And though my faith be broken, And though my heart be broken, Behold the golden token

That proves me happy now.

V.

Would God I could awaken!

For I dream I know not how, And my soul is sorely shaken Lest an evil step be taken,Lest the dead who is forsaken

May not be happy now.

IN heaven a spirit doth dwell

"Whose heart-strings are a lute;" None sing so wildly well

As the angel Israfel;

And the giddy stars (so legends tell),

Ceasing their hymns, attend the spell

Of his voice, all mute.

*"And the angel Israfel, whose heart-strings are a lute, and who has the sweetest voice of all God's creatures."-Koran.

Tottering above

II.

In her highest noon,

The enamoured Moon Blushes with love;

While, to listen, the red levin

(With the rapid Pleiades even, Which were seven)

Pauses in heaven.

III.

And they say (the starry choir And the other listening things) That Israfeli's fire

Is owing to that lyre

By which he sits and sings,

The trembling living wire

Of those unusual strings.

IV.

But the skies that angel trod, Where deep thoughts are a dutyWhere Love's a grown-up god—

Where the houri glances are Imbued with all the beauty

Which we worship in a star.