LI.

But art thou gone, quite gone, my youth's fair dream,
And must the real world delight alone?
Not so still lives one cherish'd lingering beam
Of early fire: still, still it trembles on.
Let no harsh breath dispel that quivering gleam ;
It tells of hopes that once so fairly shone,-
Oh let it linger yet! The time may come
"Twill soar again and all my soul illume.

LII.

But to young Lena now we turn once more.
'Tis strange, but grief most often follows joy,
Whene'er the heart is most secure, and o'er

Its dream of future bliss finds sweet employ.
Think of the pain that you the most deplore-
The death of wife, or friend, or darling boy-
Did it not smite when hope looked gladly round
And saw each long-formed wish already crowned ?

LIII.

More sad was Lena's fate! Not mine to tell

The bliss that late had soothed her gentle mind; Not mine upon her happy past to dwell

From childhood's hour, till woo'd with transport kind,

Her feelings bow'd to Love's enduring spell,

And saw the altar those sweet feelings bind; Not mine to paint all this and rashly breathe

O'er the chaste bloom that decks love's fairest wreath !

LIV.

Let your own mind recur to her for whom

You feel or have felt most: let all the charms
That now, perchance, lie buried in the tomb
Or blush in hallow'd bliss within your arms,

Once more flash on you with their earliest bloom; Let each fond grace cold Time the soonest harms, Those slightest, childish spells that then could bless, Beam once more on you in their loveliness,

LV.

And you will feel for them. Was aught too slight To bless or grieve them ?-As you met, they met ; As blent your eyes in pure affection bright,

So blended theirs; as every fond regret For hours of absence, cast its shadow light,

So each hour spent apart their hearts would fret ; As you beheld with pain the time to sever, So mourned it they till bound in bliss for ever.

LVI.

For ever?......Wretched Lena !-Hark! the rain
Beats loudly clattering on the rocks around;
The damp clouds hang above the darkened plain
And precipice that sinks in chasm profound;
To pierce their depths, the eye essays in vain ;
Nought passes those white billows save the sound
Of waters rushing o'er the loosened rocks,

And pine trees shattered 'neath the wind's rude shocks.

LVII.

At times, the clouds beneath them part and show,
Athwart their billows torn by the rude blast,
The plain in sunshine smiling bright below,
Or only checkered by the shadows cast
From distant storms. And as the evening glow
Of the far hamlet meets their eyes, the waste
And dreary scene around, before, above,
Makes Lena shudder o'er her drooping love.

LVIII.

For drooping now he seems.

While skies were fair

Above him and the varying scene allured,
No weakness could his buoyant mind impair,
And all fatigue unheeded was endured:

Now that the scene is changed, he too must share
Its change; and that slight form, so ill inured
To meet unharmed e'en Autumn's mildest breath,
Bows down this frozen Alpine blast beneath.

LIX.

Now in the Simplon's higher range, a storm
Of snow succeeds the rain; winds, piercing cold,
Congeal his blood; and, o'er the chariot warm,
Large heavy flakes in crystal masses fold.
In vain, with soft affection's fond alarm,

His young bride strives his courage to uphold; Harsh blows the whirlwind from the frozen sky""Tis heaven's decree," he says, "here let me die!

LX.

"But yesterday, and life with new hope beaming "Allured me on, for heaven benignant smiled. "This change o'erwhelms my soul: no bright, redeeming "Future now opes before me. Long beguiled "By inward peace, resigned to all, yet teeming "With love for thee, what pleasure, pure and mild "Has long been mine! and happy by thy side, "I thought not cruel death could thus divide.

LXI.

"And therefore did I linger, nor would leave "Our treacherous clime till thou could'st share my way;

"An earlier flight my weakness might retrieve,

"But thou the prize that would reward my stay.

I lingered-thou art mine; and shall I grieve? "Though I had called thee mine one only day, "That day would e'er forbid me to repine"Though life may be the price, still art thou mine!

LXII.

Then, dearest, mourn not o'er my early fate; "It calls not for thy pity. I have been ' 'Blest, and but grieve to leave thee desolate. "But thou wilt live in many a vanished scene, Nor feel alone. Thou still wilt contemplate "These days of love though long years intervene. "We part not, dearest Lena!--still my love"Warm-pure-as now-shall bless thee from above."

LXIII.

Her head was nestled in his heaving breast-
Her arms encircling, still more closely bound
O'er him her loosened cloak. No word exprest
Her anguish; but her speechless sorrow found
Its vent in tears that on her hallowed nest

Of love-his bosom-fell. And his arms wound Round her slim waist; and his flushed cheek sank down On that dear form he died to call his own.

LXIV.

And he was happy! Purest joy was his !
Let death remove, he felt that it could not
Estrange their hearts. From heaven's eternal bliss-
And tranquil conscience promised him such lot—
From heaven he'd love; for love as pure as this
No holier essence from his soul would blot.

From heaven he'd bend o'er her: in heaven he'd pray
For her dear soul and guide it on its way.

Still falls the snow.

LXV.

The summit now is gained, And the mad whirlwind from the bare rocks

sweeping,

Speeds o'er the naked height they have attained.
Along the frozen road still slowly creeping—
'Mid snow-clad rocks where desert grandeur reigned-
Down the other side they tend; while ever keeping
Her eyes on his flushed cheek, poor Lena sate:
The Alp was past-oh! could it be too late ?......

LXVI.

Still they descend; for Simplon's sheltering inn
Lies far way down. And Lena, all engrost,
Turns her quick glance, and, pale and shuddering,
Seeks the rude hamlet; for all is not lost,
She deems, if its warm shelter they can win

Ere bows the sufferer 'neath the deadly frost.
The road turns-"Oh, 'tis there!" she cries, with joy
And rapture bending o'er her rescued boy.

LXVII.

The inn is gained. The horses stop. And lights, Through the wide portal, cheer the frozen street: The steps are lower'd: but, with one bound alights The impatient girl, and on his trembling feet Uplifts her husband whose fond eye delights

To mark her hope. Their smiles one moment meet: Then on the step he treads......oh God! he tiresSinks in her arms-and, smiling still, expires.

LXVIII.

And he is dead! Gone every hope that lighted With transient ray her breast! And he is dead Her every new-found promise crushed and blighted, Its short-lived radiance now for ever fled !