Years passed, and his name grew famous;
We were proud, both she and I;
And we lived upon his letters,

While the slow days fleeted by.

Then at last-you know the story,
How a fearful rumour spread,
Till all hope had slowly faded,

And we heard that he was dead.
Dead! Oh, those were bitter hours;
Yet within my soul there dwelt
A warning, and while others mourned him,
Something like a hope I felt.

His was no weak life as mine was,
But a life, so full and strong-
No, I could not think he perished
Nameless, 'mid a conquered throng.
How she drooped! Years passed; no tidings
Came, and yet that little flame

Of strange hope within my spirit

Still burnt on, and lived the same.

Ah! my child, our hearts will fail us,
When to us they strongest seem

I can look back on those hours
As a fearful, evil dream.

She had long despaired; what wonder

That her heart had turned to mine?

Earthly loves are deep and tender,

Not eternal and divine!

Can I say how bright a future
Rose before my soul that day?
Oh, so strange, so sweet, so tender--
And I had to turn away.
Hard and terrible the struggle,

For the pain not mine alone;
I called back my Brother's spirit,
And I bade him claim his own.

Told her-now I dared to do it-
That I felt the day would rise
When he would return to gladden
My weak heart and her bright eyes.
And I pleaded-pleaded sternly-

In his name, and for his sake:
Now, I can speak calmly of it,

Then, I thought my heart would break.

Soon-ah, Love had not deceived me,
(Love's true instincts never err,)
Wounded, weak, escaped from prison,
He returned to me; to her.

I could thank God that bright morning,
When I felt my Brother's gaze,
That my heart was true and loyal,
As in our old boyish days.

Bought by wounds and deeds of daring,
Honours he had brought away;

Glory crowned his name-my Brother's; Mine too!-we were one that day.

Since the crown on him had fallen,
"VICTOR IN A noble strife,"

I could live and die contented
With my poor ignoble life.

Well, my darling, almost weary
Of my story? Wait awhile;
For the rest is only joyful;

I can tell it with a smile.
One bright promise still was left me,
Wound so close about my soul,
That, as one by one had failed me,
This dream now absorbed the whole.

"SINGER OF A NOBLE POEM,"

Ah, my darling, few and rare Burn the glorious names of Poets, Like stars in the purple air. That too, and I glory in it,

That great gift my Godfrey won;
I have my dear share of honour,
Gained by that beloved one.

One day shall my darling read it;
Now she cannot understand
All the noble thoughts, that lighten
Through the genius of the land.
I am proud to be his brother,

Proud to think that hope was true; Though I longed and strove so vainly What I failed in, he could do.

I was long before I knew it,
Longer ere I felt it so;

Then I strung my rhymes together

Only for the poor and low.
And, it pleases me to know it,
(For I love them well indeed,)
They care for my humble verses,
Fitted for their humble need.

And, it cheers my heart to hear it,
Where the far-off settlers roam,

My poor words are sung and cherished,
Just because they speak of Home.
And the little children sing them,
(That, I think, has pleased me best,)
Often, too, the dying love them,

For they tell of Heaven and rest.

So my last vain dream has faded; (Such as I to think of fame!) Yet I will not say it failed me,

For it crowned my Godfrey's name

No; my Angel did not cheat me,
For my long life has been blest ;
He did give me Love and Sorrow,
He will bring me Light and Rest.

B

A WOMAN'S QUESTION.

EFORE I trust my Fate to thee,
Or place my hand in thine,
Before I let thy Future give

Colour and form to mine,

Before I peril all for thee, question thy soul to-night for me.

I break all slighter bonds, nor feel

A shadow of regret :

Is there one link within the Past,

That holds thy spirit yet?

Or is thy Faith as clear and free as that which I can pledge to thee?

Does there within thy dimmest dreams

A possible future shine,

Wherein thy life could henceforth breathe,

Untouched, unshared by mine?

If so, at any pain or cost, oh, tell me before all is lost.

Look deeper still. If thou canst feel

Within thy inmost soul,

That thou hast kept a portion back,

While I have staked the whole;

Let no false pity spare the blow, but in true mercy tell

me so.