HAVE caught the last wave of his snow-white plume,
How fast to-night closes the evening gloom!

I have heard the last sound of his horse's feet,
Oh, wind once more the echo repeat.

I should not weep thus if thou wert gone
Away to the battle as oft thou hast done;

204

THE FORSAKEN.

Or if I wept, my tears would be

But voiceless orisons for thee.

Thou wert wont to part, my scarf on thine arm,
My last kiss laid on thy lips like a charm ;

I could pray, and believe that thy maiden's prayer
Would be with thee in battle, and guard thee there.

But now thou art gone to the festival,

To the crowded city, the lighted hall;

In the courtly beauty's shining bower.

Little thou'lt think of thine own wild flower.

Thou wilt join in the midnight saraband,

With thy graceful smile and thy whisper bland;
And to many another thou wilt be

Often I'd read in the minstrel tale
How bright eyes grow dim, and red lips pale ;
Of the tears that wail the fond maiden's lot ;-
But I loved thee, and all but my love forgot.

And must this be?-oh, heart of mine!
Why art thou not too proud to pine?

Again I will wreathe my raven hair

With the red-rose flowers it was wont to wear;

THE FORSAKEN.

Again I will enter my father's hall

Again be the gayest and gladdest of all ;

Like the falcon that soars at her highest bound,
Though her bosom bear in it its red death-wound!

But what boots it to teach my heart a task

So vain as weeping behind a mask :

Broken, with only ruins to hide,
Little it recks of the show of pride.

Will a smile bring back to my lip its red,
Or the azure light from my blue eye fled--
Efface from the faded brow and cheek
The tale that tells my heart must break?

No! I will away to my solitude,

And hang my head in my darkened mood;
Passing away, with a silent sigh,

Unknown, unwept,-and thus will I die!

Farewell! farewell! I have but one prayer-
That no thought may haunt thee of my despair;
Be my memory to thee a pleasant thing,—
An odour that came and passed with thy spring.

Forget me; I would not have thee know

Of the youth and bloom thy falseness laid low;
That the green grass grows, the cypresses wave,
And the death-stone lies on thy once love's grave!

I. E. I..

205

206

A LAMENT.

A LAMENT.

WOW desolate and how lone

My home appears, now thou art far away!

Oh, when wilt thou come back again, mine own?
What tempts thee thus to stray?

Come back! come back!-hath the world aught so dear

As the true loving heart that waits thee here?

Hast thou not vowed to be

Mine, and mine only, through each changing scene?

As yet my heart hath found no change in thee :-
Be still what thou hast been,

Fond, kind, and faithful-my sole friend and guide,
And dearer far than all the world beside.

Oh, when wilt thou return?

Vainly I look for thee at close of day,

And often does my aching bosom yearn
For thee, now far away.

Hath absence changed thee? No, it cannot be !-
There is no truth if thou art false to me.

Yet thou dost tarry long,

Whilst here in cheerless solitude I mourn,

And dark forebodings o'er my fond soul throng;
Oh, when wilt thou return?

Sickness may reach thee, pain, or grief, or care

Fall on thy breast, and I not near to share.

STANZAS.

Come back to thy own home!

I know thou canst not change, but I am sad
And weary with long watching,-do thou come
And make my spirit glad.

I know no joy whilst thou art from my sight;

My yearning thoughts are with thee day and night!

ANON.

207

STANZAS.

T was not for the diamond ring upon your lily hand;

It was not for your noble name; it was not for your land;—
I saw no gem, no lordly name, no broad domain with thee.
The day you stole my trusting heart and peace of mind from me.

You came, I knew not whence you came; we met,-'twas in the dance;
There was honey in each word of yours, and glamour in each glance.
Though many were around me then, I nothing saw but him,
Before whose brow of starry sheen fresh fallen snow were dim.

You're gone! it was a weary night we parted at the barn;
You swore by all the stars above that you would soon return ;
That you would soon return, light love, and I your bride should be;.
But backward will the burnie roll ere you come back to me.

They say that soon a smiling dame, of lineage like to thine,
Will take thee by the fickle hand thy falsehood placed in mine:
The music and the rose-red wine to greet her will appear-
For wedding song a sigh I'll have, for bridal pledge a tear.