III.-FORMER HOME. N scenes untrod for many a year, I stand again, the long estranged; And gazing round me, ponder here On all that has, and has not changed. The casual visitor would see Naught altered in the aspects round; But long familiar shapes to me Are missing, which I fain had found. Still stands the rock, still runs the flood, Which not an eye could pass unmov'd; The flow'ry bank, the fringing wood, Which e'en the passer mark'd and lov'd. But when mine eye's delighted pride, A vine we train'd-and that was gone. And though awhile content I gazed I sought, ere long, a seat we raised Stones lay around, I knew not whether So whirl'd the waves that form'd it then, In foam around yon jutting stone; So arrowy shot they down the glen, When here we pass'd the hours long flown. There in the waters dipp'd the tree My solace still through time and chance. Full many a spring the tree has shone The wither'd leaves of that one year. That year was fraught with heavy things, Its mournful epitaph again. But most, those small familiar traits, Their absence seems to speak of those Those hands since then have grasp'd the brand, How changed are they !-how changed am I ! But what with years, oh what is won? I know not-but while standing now Its thoughts of Glory, Faith, and Truth— How full it was of good and great, How true to heav'n how warm to men. Alas! I scarce forbear to hate The colder breast I bring again. Hopes disappointed, sin, and time, Have moulded me since here I stood; Ah! paint old feelings, rock sublime, Speak life's fresh accents, mountain flood! IV.-HEARTS-EASE. H HEART-EASE, dost thou lie within that flower? OH lie -so much I need The healing aid of thine enshrined power To veil the past, and bid the time good speed! I gather it-It withers on my breast; The heart's-ease dies when it is laid to mine; Methinks there is no shape by joy possess'd Would better fare than thou upon that shrine Take from me things gone by-oh! change the past My hope, that never grew to certainty,— Bring these anew, and set me once again That happy I was never doom'd to be. Till these things are, and pow'rs divine descend,Love, kindness, joy, and hope to gild my day,-— In vain the emblem leaves towards me bend; Thy spirit, Heart-Ease, is too far away! PAUL FERROLL 1853. CAROLINE CLIVE. AN INCIDENT. (FROM CHAPTer vii.) "Do you remember as we went up the steep path to the inn, seeing an Englishwoman sitting just in the angle of one of the turns? The gardener's wife who was sewing on the seat at the top, said the lady was lame, and she did not know how she had managed to get down there; but she had been sitting quite still on the same spot for an hour and a half, while her friends were in a boat on the bay." "I recollect; the woman said she had three or four times peeped over the rock, but the lady always seemed contentissima, come se stesse in Paradiso." "That's the exact expression that struck me; it came into verse the other day. Read it, Janet." AËTA'S orange groves were there, GA Half circling round the sun-kiss'd sea; And all were gone, and left the fair Rich garden-solitude to me. My feeble foot refused to tread The rugged pathway to the bay; And then the thirst grew strong in me, To taste yet farther scenes so bright, |