THE THREE BROTHERS. I. THEY dwelt in a valley of sunshine, those Brothers; Green were the palm trees that shadow'd their dwelling; Sweet, like low music, the sound of the fountains That fell from the rocks round their beautiful home : There the pomegranate blush'd like the cheek of the maiden When she hears in the distance the step of her lover, And blushes to know it before her young friends. They dwelt in the valley-their mine was the corn-field Heavy with gold, and in autumn they gather'd The grapes that hung clustering together like rubies: Summer was prodigal there of her roses, The banks of the river were cover'd with gardens: And even when sunset was pale on the ocean, The turrets were shining with taper and lamp, Which fill'd the night-wind, as it pass'd them, with odours. The angel of death came and summon'd the monarch; But he look'd on the city, the fair and the mighty, And said, "Ye proud temples, I leave ye my fame." IV. The conqueror went forth, like the storm over ocean, His chariot-wheels red with the blood of the vanquish'd; Nations grew pale at the sound of his trumpet, Thousands rose up at the wave of his banners, And the valleys were white with the bones of the slain. He stood on a mountain, no foeman was near him, Heavy and crimson his banner was waving And the ringdoves fill'd every grove with their O'er the plain where his victories were written in song. II. blood, And he welcomed the wound whence his life's tide was flowing; But those Brothers were weary; for hope like a For death is the seal to the conqueror's fame. glory Lived in each bosom-that hope of the future V. Which turns where it kindles the heart to an altar, But the youngest went forth with his lute—and the valleys Were fill'd with the sweetness that sigh'd from its strings; Maidens, whose dark eyes but open'd on palaces, home; He sang to the victor, who loosen'd his captives,' While the tears of his childhood sprang into his eyes. He died and his lute was bequeath'd to the cypress, And his tones to the hearts that loved music and song. VI. Long ages pass'd, from the dim world of shadows These brothers return'd to revisit the earth; They came to revisit the place of their glory, And the King said, "The earth shall be fill'd with To hear and rejoice in the sound of their fame. my glory, And he built him a temple-cach porphyry column Was the work of a life; and he built him a cityA hundred gates open'd the way to his palace, (Too few for the crowds that there knelt as his slaves,) They look'd for the palace- the temple of marble The rose-haunted gardens-a desert was there; The sand, like the sea in its wrath, had swept o'er them, And tradition had even forgotten their names. And the highest tower saw not the extent of the The Conqueror stood on the place of his battles, walls. And his triumph had pass'd away like a vapour, And the green grass was waving its growth of | Said I, when thy beauty's sweet vision was wild flowers; fled, And they, not his banner, gave name to the place. How wouldst thou turn, pining, to days like the They pass'd a king's garden, and there sat his daughter, Singing a sweet song remember'd of old, And the song was caught up, and sent back like an echo, From a young voice that came from a cottage beside. Then smiled the Minstrel, "You hear it, my Brothers, My Songs yet are sweet on the lute and the lip." King, not a vestige remains of your palaces; Conqueror, forgotten the fame of your battles: But the Poet yet lives in the sweetness of musicHe appeal'd to the heart, that never forgets. dead! O! long ere one shadow shall darken that brow, Wilt thou weep like a mourner o'er all thou lovest now; When thy hopes, like spent arrows, fall short of their mark; Or, like meteors at midnight, make darkness more dark; When thy feelings lie fetter'd like waters in frost, Or, scatter'd too freely, are wasted and lost : For aye cometh sorrow, when youth has pass'd by What saith the Arabian? Its memory's a sigh. CHANGE. I would not care, at least so much, sweet Spring, Is doubly sorrowful when it recalls WHEN those eyes have forgotten the smile they wear now, When care shall have shadow'd that beautiful browWhen thy hopes and thy roses together lie dead, And thy heart turns back pining to days that are fled Then wilt thou remember what now seems to pass Like the moonlight on water, the breath-stain on glass: O! maiden, the lovely and youthful, to thee As the rose by the fountain flings down on the wave Its blushes, forgetting its glass is its grave: So the heart sheds its colour on life's early hour, But the heart has its fading as well as the flower. The charmed light darkens, the rose-leaves are gone, And life, like the fountain, floats colourless on. EDITH. WEEP not, weep not, that in the spring We have to make a grave; The flowers will grow, the birds will sing, The early roses wave; And make the sod we're spreading fair, For her who sleeps below: We might not bear to lay her there In winter frost and snow. We never hoped to keep her long, With dancing step, and birdlike song, She look'd a flower that one rough gale There was too clear and blue a light She was too thoughtful for her years, Her blue eyes shone more clear, And every day she grew more weak, And every hour more dear. I speak of grief that long has slept, I mourn o'er cold forgetfulness, I've mingled with the young and fair, In silence and in shade. How could I see a sweet mouth shine With smiles, and not remember thine? Ah! it is well we can forget, Or who could linger on Beneath a sky whose stars are set, On earth whose flowers are gone? Our early friends, those of our youth? Which made us such friends then. No more a sweet necessity, Love must and will expand, Our love was of that early time; It breathes as of a purer clime Than where my lot is cast, It shock'd me first to see the sun To see the wild flowers o'er it run The heaven whence thy nature came It is Hope that now breathes thy name, I feel this earth could never be Farewell! the early dews that fall THE CITY OF THE DEAD. 'Twas dark with cypresses and yews, which cast Dark portal of another world-the grave- The many long to enter thee, for thou With those who pine for them. I fear thee not; Lest it prove barrier to my hope, and make I. LAUREL! O, fling thy green boughs on the air, There is dew on thy branches, what doth it do there? Before thee the grove and the garden are spread— Still thy heart in its beating; be glad of such rest, Weep no more that affection thus loosens its tie; Weep no more that the loved and the loving must die; Weep no more o'er the cold dust that lies at your feet; But gaze on yon starry world-there ye shall meet. V. O heart of mine! is there not One dwelling there Thou that art worn on the conqueror's shield, ward. prayer? day, As a link in the fetters that keep me away? Earth's changeless and sacred-thou proud laurel When I think of the glad and the beautiful home Which oft in my dreams to my spirit hath come: The tears of the midnight, why hang they on That when our last sleep on my eyelids hatk thee? tree! II. prest, That I may be with thee at home and at rest: more: Rose of the morning, the blushing and bright, Thou whose whole life is one breath of delight; Beloved of the maiden, the chosen to bind Her dark tresses' wealth from the wild summer While death holds such hope forth to soothe and wind. to save, Fair tablet, still vow'd to the thoughts of the lover, O, sunbeam of heaven, thou may'st well light the Whose rich leaves with sweet secrets are written all over; Fragrant as blooming-thou lovely rose tree! thee? III. Dark cypress! I see thee-thou art my reply, Why the tears of the night on thy comrade trees lie; That laurel it wreath'd the red brow of the brave, Yet thy sad branches bend o'er the maiden's last rest; The brave and the lovely alike they are sleeping, IV. Yet, sunbeam of heaven! thou fall'st on the tomb; Why pausest thou by such dwelling of doom? grave! THE ALTERED RIVER. THOU lovely river, thou art now As fair as fair can be, To turn thy waves to light, Upon thy diamond plain, Around thy charm'd domain. Fair as thou art, thou wilt be food As heaven's face can be here. Flowers fling their sweet bonds on thy breast, The willows woo thy stay, In vain, thy waters may not rest, Their course must be away. In yon wide world, what wilt thou find? Far other weight to bear. Through which the barges toil, Smoke has shut out the sun's glad beam, Till thou hast reach'd the mighty sea, Bend thou, young poet, o'er the stream- ADMIRAL COLLINGWOOD. METHINKS it is a glorious thing As scarcely did the wild wind dare To watch the frigates scatter'd round, Yet know they only wait your will- And look'd upon the sea; He held the glass in his right hand, And far and near look'd he : He could not see one hostile ship Abroad upon the main ; From east to west, from north to south, It was his own domain. "Good news for England this, good news," Forth may her merchants fare; Thick o'er the sea, no enemy Will cross the pathway there. A paleness came upon his cheek, A shadow to his brow; Alas! our good Lord Collingwood, What is it ails him now? Tears stand within the brave man's eyes, It is the sickness of the heart, He's pining for his native seas, He has been many years at sea, He's worn with wind and wave; He asks a little breathing space Between it and his grave: He feels his breath come heavily, His keen eye faint and dim; It was a weary sacrifice That England ask'd of him. He never saw his home again- Amid the many names that light I know not one, brave Collingwood, THE FIRST GRAVE. [This poem originated in the circumstance of the first grave being formed in the churchyard of the new church at Brompton. The place had been recently a garden, and some of the flowers yet showed themselves among the grass, where this one tenant, the forerunner of its popula tion, had taken up his last abode.] A SINGLE grave!-the only one In this unbroken ground, A single grave!-—my heart has felt |