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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,
Had dwelt the rocks high front upon,
I sought upon its warmer side

A vine we train'd-and that was gone.

And though awhile content I gazed
Upon the river quick and fair,

I sought, ere long, a seat we raised
In childhood-but it was not there.

Stones lay around, I knew not whether
Its relics, or the winter's snow-
And sitting where we sate together,
Again I watch'd the torrent flow.

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
From which, the day I parted hence,
I took a few green leaves, to be

My solace still through time and chance.

Full many a spring the tree has shone
In sunlight, air, and beauty here;
While I in cities gazed upon

The wither'd leaves of that one year.

That year was fraught with heavy things,
With deaths and partings, loss and pain;
And every object round me rings

Its mournful epitaph again.

But most, those small familiar traits,
Which only we have lov'd or known;
They flourish'd with our happier days—
They wither'd because we were gone.

Their absence seems to speak of those
Who're scatter'd far upon the earth,
At whose young hands they once arose
Whose eyes gazed gleeful on their birth.

Those hands since then have grasp'd the brand,
Those eyes in grief grown dim and hot,
And wand'ring through a stranger's land,
Oft yearn'd to this remember'd spot.

How changed are they !-how changed am I !
The early spring of life is gone,
Gone is each youthful vanity,—

But what with years, oh what is won?

I know not-but while standing now
Where open'd first the heart of youth,
I recollect how high would glow

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
Renew the lost-restore me the decay'd ;—
Bring back the days whose tide has ebb'd so fast-
Give form again to the fantastic shade!

My hope, that never grew to certainty,—
My youth, that perish'd in its vain desire,—
My fond ambition, crush'd ere it could be
Aught save a self-consuming, wasted fire;

Bring these anew, and set me once again
In the delusion of life's infancy-
I was not happy, but I knew not then

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;
Down the steep rock I saw them thread,
And gain the boat and glide away.

And then the thirst grew strong in me,

To taste yet farther scenes so bright,
To do like those who wander'd free,
And share their exquisite delight.

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