LINES UPON A PICTURE OF AMELIA." 107

Oft have I seen those orbs of hazel glimmer,

Burn clear, and soften in their cheerful light,

Now bright as glow-worms' silver lamps that shimmer, Now dark as doves' eyes melting grief makes dimmer, Or waves of silver flashing in the night.

That look of light lives with me in lone places,
A moon-kissed spot in life's dark vale of tears;
Where, like a troop of fairies, fancy traces
The lineaments of long remembered faces,

With smiles of light from gone-by sunny years.

From me, thou scarce couldst think that time could borrow

So soon the looks that joys to youth impart,

Or that each Night should show, the blushing Morrow, Some deeply graven memory of sorrow,

Carved on the tablet of the human heart.

Sweet friend, bright bard! I care not for repining,
Grief ever comes too soon without our aid.

But now, within my heart I am entwining
A wreath, to give thee when thou shalt be shining,
A sister seraph in the Eden shade.

There will we bless our life's immortal Giver,
When golden fountains gush forth from the sun,
And heaven's flowers all around us quiver,
And see themselves in the Elysian river,

O'er whose bright waves the rose winged spirits run.

THE ELFIN QUEEN.

AN ALLEGORY.

THERE was an ancient castle, that stood beside a lake, Half hidden by the forest and the thickly tangled brake; 'Twas there a troop of fairies their midnight revels held, And their wild and witching music on the air of even swelled.

Oh, fairies gay! how beautiful are they!

With song and mirth they tread the earth,
Whilst lute and rebeck play.

Across the moonlit waters in rosy shells they glide,
And land amid the lilies which begirt the silver tide,
And dance among the flowers, which every billow laves,
Or flying o'er the sands their feet are kissed by wanton

waves.

Oh! fairies gay! how beautiful are they!

They skim the heath, in robe and wreath,
As white as ocean spray!

There was a lonely youth who strayed one even by this

shore,

To muse upon

roar,

the magic moon, and hear the wild waves

And o'er his ear came music, through the willow's

waving shade,

And thus he heard the accents of the fairies' serenade: "We fairies gay, to thee awake our lay—

Come join our throng, our dance and song, Our happy roundelay."

Their Queen reclined in beauty upon a mossy bed, Young violets were at her feet, red roses round her head, Her snowy arms were folded upon her swelling breast, And o'er her limbs a sea-shell's blush on marble seemed to rest.

A fairy gay, as beautiful as day,

With eyes as bright as Love's own light,
Or the maiden moon in May.

Oh! witching were the words she spake, and winning was her air,

Her face was lit with loveliness, a beauty passing rare! Her hair in heavy ringlets adown her back was rolled, And round her neck of snow it lay in many a raven fold! Oh, fairy gay! no words could e'er convey,

Thine angel face, and form of grace,

And those that round thee play.

The fond youth kissed the fairy, on her tender, crimson

cheek,

And gazed into those eyes, whose look no mortal tongue may speak,

And caught the magic accents of the eldrick maiden's

speech,

And felt the warm breath come from lips like blossoms of the peach.

Beware! beware! red lip and raven hair!

Fond youth, her breath is more than death— 'Tis madness and despair!

Beside that castle wanders, by the margin of the lake, An old man strange, who dreameth, though he seemeth

as awake,

And seeth airy phantoms on the moon-kissed greensward

throng,

And smiling bends his ear to hear the syren's silver song.
Sad soul, farewell! it is a wizard's spell—

Thy mind hath fled! enchantment dread
Hath rung thy reason's knell!

Young lovers, when the daisy is first upon the green,
Oft wander out to hear him speak about the elfin queen;
As he picks the reddest flower which flutters in the gale,
And says beside her crimson lips that scarlet bloom were
pale!

The old man sighs till tears bedim his eyes,

And lovers roam both weeping home,

More sad at heart, and wise.

FAREWELL SUMMER.

In the meads of western lands,
By Ohio's golden sands,

Fell a seed from angel hands,

When Paradise was new.

When ages fled, the backwoodsmen
Still found it blooming in the glen—
They "Farewell Summer" called it then,
This fairy flower blue-

A small thick plant, with woody stem,

And on each twig a diadem

Of sapphires blue, a floral gem,

A jewel of the earth,

Which sprung from germ, and took its root,
Spread dark green leaf, and sappy shoot,
Bearing precious gems, as fruit,

In amethystine birth.