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And every leaf, though dead, did keep

Its station in mockery;
For there was not one breath to sweep

The leaves from each perishing tree;
And there they hung dead, motionless ;

They hung there day by day, As though death were too busy with other things

To sweep their corpses away.
Oh, terrible it was to think

Of human creatures then!
How they did sink in vain to drink

In every vale and glen;
And how the scorched foot did shrink

As it touch'd the slippery plain :
And some had gather'd beneath the trees

In hope of finding shade;
But alas! there was not a single breeze

Astir in any glade!
The cities were forsaken,

For their marble wells were spent;
And their walls gave back the scorching glare

Of that hot firmament:
But the corses of those who died were strewn

In the street, as dead leaves lay,
And dry they wither'd-and wither'd alone,

They felt no foul decay!
Night came. The fiery sun sank down,

And the people's hope grew strong:
It was a night without a moon,
It was a night in the depth of June,

And there swept a wind along;
'T was almost cool : and then they thought
Some blessed dew it would have brought.

Vain was the hope there was no cloud

In the clear dark-blue Heaven; But, bright and beautiful, the crowd

Of stars look'd through the even.

And women sat them down to weep

Over their hopeless pain:
And men had visions dark and deep,

Clouding the dizzy brain :
And children sobb'd themselves to sleep,

And never woke again
The morning rose—not as it comes

Softly ’midst rose and dew-
Not with those cool and fresh perfumes

That the weariest heart renew,
-But the sun sprang up as if eager to see

What next his power could do!
A mother held her child to her breast

And kiss'd it tenderly,
And then she saw her infant smile;

What could that soft smile be?
A tear had sprung with a sudden start,

To her hot feverish eye ;
It had fallen upon that faint child's lip

That was so parch'd and dry.
I look'd upon the mighty Sea;

Oh, what a sight it was!
All its waves were gone save two or three,

That lay like burning glass,
Within the caves of those deep rocks

Where no human foot could pass.
And in the very midst, a ship

Lay in the slime and sand;
With all its sailors perishing

Even in sight of land ;
Oh! water had been a welcome sight

To that pale dying band!
Oh, what a sight was the bed of the Sea!

The bed where he had slept, Or toss'd and tumbled restlessly,

And all his treasures kept

For ages : he was gone; and all

His rocky pillows shown, With their clustering shells, and sea-weed pall,

And the rich gems round them thrown. And the monsters of the deep lay dead,

With many a human form, That there had found a quiet bed

Away from the raging storm ; And the fishes, sodden in the sun,

Were strewn by thousands round; And a myriad things, long lost and won,

Were there, unsought for, found.
I turn'd away from earth and sea,

And look'd on the burning sky,
But no drop fell, like an angel's tear-

The founts of heaven were dry :
The birds had perish'd every one ;

Not a cloud was in the air,
And desolate seem'd the very Sun,

He look'd so lonely there!
And I began to feel the pang-

The agony of thirst :
I had a scorching swelling pain,

As if my heart would burst.
My tongue seem'd parch'd ; I tried to speak-

The spell that instant broke;
And, starting at my own wild shriek,
In mercy I awoke.

Miss M. A. BROWNE.

THE LILY.
Addressed to a Young Lady on her entrance into Life

FLOWER of light! forget thy birth,
Daughter of the sordid earth,
Lift the beauty of thine eye
To the blue ethereal sky.

While thy graceful buds unfold
Silver petals starr'd with gold,
Let the bee among thy bells
Rifle their ambrosial cells,
And the nimble pinion'd air
Waft thy breath to heaven, like prayer;
Cloud and sun alternate shed
Gloom or glory round thy head;
Morn impearl thy leaves with dews,
Evening lend them rosy hues,
Morn with snow-white splendour bless,
Night with glow-worm jewels dress;
Thus fulfil thy summer day,
Spring and flourish and decay;
Live a life of fragrance-then
Disappear-to rise again,
When thy sisters of the vale
Welcome back the nightingale.
So may she whose name I write,
Be herself a flower of light,
Live a life of innocence,
Die-to be transported hence
To that Garden in the skies,
Where the lily never dies.

JAMES MONTGOMERY.

ADDRESS TO A PRIMROSE.
FLOWER! thou art not the same to me

That thou wert long ago;
The hue has faded from thy face,

Or from my heart the glow-
The glow of young romantic thoughts,

When all the world was new,
And many a blossom round my path

Its sweet, fresh fragrance threw; Thou art not what I thought thee then, Nor ever wilt thou be again.

It was a thing of wild delight,

To find thee on the bank,
Where all the day thy opening leaves

The golden sunlight drank
To sce thee in the sister gro'ip

That clustering grew together, And seem'd too delicate for aught

Save summer's brightest weather,
Or for the gaze of Leila's eyes
Thou happiest primrose 'neath the skies !
I know not what it was that made

My heart to love thee so;
For though all gentle things to me

Were dear, long, long ago,
There was no bird upon the bough,

No wild-flower on the lea,
No twinkling star, no running brook,

I loved so much as thee;
I watch'd thy coming every spring,
And hail'd thee as a living thing.
And yet I look upon thee now

Without one joyful thrill;
The spirit of the past is dead,

My heart is calm and still:
A lovelier flower than e'er thou art

Has faded from my sight,
And the same chill that stole her bloom

Brought unto me a blight, 'Tis fitting thou should'st sadder seem, Since Leila perish'd like a dream.

ANON.

ETTY'S ROVER.
Thou lovely and thou happy child,

Ah, how I envy thee!
I should be glad to change our state,

If such a change might be.

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