'Tis not in fate to harm me,

While fate leaves thy love to me, 'Tis not in joy to charm me,

Unless joy be shared with thee. One minute's dream about thee

Were worth a long, an endless year

Of waking bliss without thee,
My own love, my only dear!

And, though the hope be gone, love, That long sparkled o'er our way, Oh! we shall journey on, love, More safely without its ray.

Far better lights shall win me

Along the path I've yet to roam,—

The mind that burns within me,
And pure smiles from thee at home.

Thus, when the lamp that lighted
The traveller at first goes out,

He feels awhile benighted,

And looks round, in fear and doubt.

But soon, the prospect clearing,

By cloudless star-light on he treads, And thinks no lamp so cheering

As that light which Heaven sheds !

COME REST IN THIS BOSOM.

COME rest in this bosom, my own stricken deer!
Though the herd have fled from thee, thy home is still here ;
Here still is the smile that no cloud can o'ercast,

And the heart and the hand all thy own to the last!

Oh what was love made for, if 'tis not the same

Through joy and through torments, through glory and shame ? I know not, I ask not, if guilt 's in that heart,

I but know that I love thee, whatever thou art !

Thou hast call'd me thy Angel in moments of bliss,
And thy angel I'll be, 'mid the horrors of this,
Through the furnace, unshrinking, thy steps to pursue,
And shield thee, and save thee, or-perish there too!

I SAW FROM THE BEACH.

I SAW from the beach, when the morning was shining,
A bark o'er the waters move gloriously on;

1 came, when the sun o'er that beach was declining,—
The bark was still here, but the waters were gone!

T

Ah! such is the fate of our life's early promise,

So passing the spring-tide of joy we have known :
Each wave, that we danced on at morning, ebbs from us,
And leaves us, at eve, on the bleak shore alone!

Ne'er tell me of glories, serenely adorning

The close of our day, the calm eve of our night;—

Give me back, give me back the wild freshness of morning, Her clouds and her tears are worth evening's best light.

Oh! who would not welcome that moment's returning,
When passion first waked a new life through his frame,
And his soul-like the wood that grows precious in burning-
Gave out all its sweets to Love's exquisite flame!

ECHO.

How sweet the answer Echo makes

To music at night,

When, roused by lute or horn, she wakes,
And far away, o'er lawns and lakes,
Goes answering light.

Yet Love hath echoes truer far,

And far more sweet,

Than e'er, beneath the moon-light's star,
Or horn, or lute, or soft guitar,

The songs repeat.

'Tis when the sigh in youth sincere,

And only then,

The sigh, that's breathed for one to hear,

Is by that one, that only dear,

Breathed back again!

THEY KNOW NOT MY HEART.

THEY know not my heart, who believe there can be
One stain of this earth in its feelings for thee;
Who think, while I see thee in beauty's young hour,
As pure as the morning's first dew on the flower,
I could harm what I love-as the sun's wanton ray
But smiles on the dew-drop to waste it away!
No:-beaming with light as those young features are,
There's a light round thy heart which is lovelier far :
It is not that cheek-'tis the soul dawning clear
Through its innocent blush makes thy beauty so dear-
As the sky we look up to, though glorious and fair,
Is look'd up to the more because heaven is there!

SHE SUNG OF LOVE.

SHE sung of love-while o'er her lyre
The rosy rays of evening fell,

As if to feed with their soft fire

The soul within that trembling shell.
The same rich light hung o'er her cheek,
And play'd around those lips that sung
And spoke, as flowers would sing and speak,
If love could lend their leaves a tongue.

But soon the west no longer burn'd,

Each rosy ray from heaven withdrew ;
And when, to gaze again I turn'd,

The minstrel's form seem'd fading too.
As if her light and heaven's were one,
The glory all had left that frame;
And from her glimmering lips the tone,
As from a parting spirit, came.

Who ever loved, but had the thought
That he and all he loved must part?
Fill'd with this fear, I flew and caught
That fading image to my heart-
And cried, "Oh, love! is this thy doom?
Oh, light of youth's resplendent day!
Must ye then lose your golden bloom,
And thus, like sunshine, die away?"

IN THE MORNING OF LIFE.

In the morning of life, when its cares are unknown, And its pleasures in all their new lustre begin; When we live in a bright-beaming world of our own, And the light that surrounds us is all from within; Oh, it is not, believe me, in that happy time

We can love as in hours of less transport we may :Of our smiles, of our hopes, 't is the gay sunny prime, But affection is warmest when these fade away.