Afflicted nature shall inhale

Heaven-borrowed thoughts and joys divine;
No longer wish, no more repine
For man's neglect or woman's scorn;
Then wed thee to an exile's lot,

For if the world hath loved thee not,

Its absence may be borne.

THE DEATH-BOAT OF HELIGOLAND.

CAN restlessness reach the cold sepulchred head?
Ay, the quick have their sleep-walkers, so have the

dead.

There are brains, though they moulder, that dream in

the tomb,

And that maddening forehear the last trumpet of doom,
Till their corses start sheeted to revel on earth,
Making horror more deep by the semblance of mirth:
By the glare of new-lighted volcanoes they dance,
Or at mid-sea appall the chill mariner's glance.
Such, I wot, was the band of cadaverous smile
Seen ploughing the night-surge of Heligo's isle.

The foam of the Baltic had sparkled like fire,
And the red moon looked down with an aspect of ire;
But her beams on a sudden grew sick-like and gray,
And the mews that had slept clanged and shrieked far
away -

And the buoys and the beacons extinguished their light,
As the boat of the stony-eyed dead came in sight,
High bounding from billow to billow; each form
Had its shroud like a plaid flying loose to the storm;

With an oar in each pulseless and icy-cold hand,
Fast they ploughed, by the lee-shore of Heligoland,
Such breakers as boat of the living ne'er crossed;
Now surf-sunk for minutes again they uptossed,
And with livid lips shouted reply o'er the flood
To the challenging watchman that curdled his blood-
"We are dead we are bound from our graves in the

west,

First to Hecla, and then to

rest

For man's ear.

And their eyes

rang:

The old abbey bell thundered its clang, gleamed with phosphorous light as it

Ere they vanished, they stopped, and gazed silently

grim,

Till the eye could define them, garb, feature, and limb.

Now who were those roamers?-of gallows or wheel
Bore they marks, or the mangling anatomist's steel?
No! by magistrates' chains 'mid their grave-clothes

you saw,

They were felons too proud to have perished by law; But a riband that hung where a rope should have been, 'Twas the badge of their faction, its hue was not green, Showed them men who had trampled and tortured and driven

-

To rebellion the fairest Isle breathed on by Heaven,
Men whose heirs would yet finish the tyrannous task,
If the Truth and the Time had not dragged off their

mask.

They parted but not till the sight might discern
A 'scutcheon distinct at their pinnace's stern,

Where letters, emblazoned in blood-colored flame,

Named their faction I blot not my page with its

name.

SONG.

WHEN LOVE came first to Earth, the SPRING
Spread rose-beds to receive him,

And back he vowed his flight he'd wing
To Heaven, if she should leave him-

But SPRING departing, saw his faith
Pledged to the next new-comer-
He revelled in the warmer breath
And richer bowers of SUMMER.

Then sportive AUTUMN claimed by rights
An Archer for her lover,

And ev'n in WINTER's dark cold nights
A charm he could discover.

Her routs and balls, and fireside joy,
For this time were his reasons-
In short, Young Love's a gallant boy,
That likes all times and seasons.

SONG.

EARL MARCH looked on his dying child,

And smit with grief to view her

The youth, he cried, whom I exiled,
Shall be restored to woo her.

She's at the window many an hour
His coming to discover:

And he looked up to Ellen's bower,
And she looked on her lover-

But ah! so pale, he knew her not,

Though her smile on him was dwelling,

And am I then forgot - forgot?

It broke the heart of Ellen.

In vain he weeps, in vain he sighs,
Her cheek is cold as ashes;

Nor love's own kiss shall wake those eyes
To lift their silken lashes.

SONG.

WHEN Napoleon was flying
From the field of Waterloo,

A British soldier dying

To his brother bade adieu !

"And take," he said, "this token

To the maid that owns my faith, With the words that I have spoken In affection's latest breath."

Sore mourned the brother's heart,
When the youth beside him fell;
But the trumpet warned to part,
And they took a sad farewell.

There was many a friend to lose him,
For that gallant soldier sighed ;
But the maiden of his bosom

Wept when all their tears were dried.

LINES TO JULIA M

SENT WITH A COPY OF THE AUTHOR's poems,

SINCE there is magic in your look,
And in your voice a witching charm,
As all our hearts consenting tell,
Enchantress! smile upon my book,

And guard its lays from hate and harm
By Beauty's most resistless spell.

The sunny dew-drop of thy praise,
Young day-star of the rising time,
Shall with its odoriferous morn
Refresh my sere and withered bays.
Smile, and I will believe my rhyme
Shall please the beautiful unborn.

Go forth, my pictured thoughts, and rise
In traits and tints of sweeter tone,
When Julia's glance is o'er ye flung;
Glow, gladden, linger in her eyes,
And catch a magic not your own,
Read by the music of her tongue.