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The gentle wind a sweet and passionate wooer Kisses the blushing leaf, and stirs up life Within the solemn woods of ash deep-crimson'd, And silver beach, and maple yellow-leaved, Where Autumn, like a faint old man, sits down By the way-side a-weary. Through the trees The golden robin moves ; the purple finch, That on wild cherry and red cedar feeds, A winter bird,-comes with its plaintive whistle, And pecks by the witch-hazel ; whilst aloud, From cottage roofs, the warbling blue-bird sings ; And merrily, with oft-repeated stroke, Sounds from the threshing-floor the busy flail.
O, what a glory doth this world put on
THE LOST DARLING.
SHE was my idol. Night and day to scan
Her voice was like some tiny harp that yields
But now alone I sit,
weep As though it were a sin to speak to one Whose home is with the angels.
Gone to God!
Gone to God!
THE CAPTIVE OF ALHAMA.
Besieged Granada's towers :
Gonsalvo, with a hundred knights
Of Leon's chivalrie,
Staid succour from the sea.
One morn a Moorish youth was led
To brave Gonsalvo's tent,
And his horse had fall'n o'erspent;
As the tear roll'd down his cheek, And scornful look'd each mailed chief,
To behold a youth so weak.
“From beauteous Malaga I came, e
But by no beaten way; Superb Granada was my aim,
Woe, woe the luckless day! For had I in my journey sped
To Darro's rushing water, This morn Zorayda I had wed, Granada's fairest daughter.
“If pity then, or love's sweet power,
E'er touch'd thy gallant breast, But grant me freedom for an hour
To the oar I give the rest;
My mournful fate to tell,
And take my long farewell!"
Gonsalvo had no marble heart,
Albeit his look was stern;
And ere set of sun return:
Yet sometimes turn'd his head,
His captive featly sped.
Yet blush'd with rosy light,
Before the Christian knight;
For a damsel pzess'd his arm,
And quivering with alarm. Awhile they stood in speechless gloom,
She look'd at him and wept;
An equal silence kept.
She knelt at the chieftains knee,
«Gaze), thy captive. Christian kiught,
is ere: iv his solera vow, H vas my lover yesternight,
Es isband now; Vitti um inie to me is vain,
Apudd its sounding pageants hollow, Win him I've promised to remain ;
Him, him alone I follow., " 'T was for me he dared, unwisely brave,
The ambush'd road to take;
Ah! then, his love still let me share,
To whom I've pledged my oath;
But let them bind us both!”
They soften'd to his suit;
Like music from a lute.
The buttress, not the bower;
And not to crush the flower.
Live happy; and whene'er
Believe Gonsalvo there!"
To their own dear Darro's water;
THE HAPPIEST TIME.
Wakes the young roses from their crimson rest; When cheerfil sounds, upon the fresh winds borne,
Tell man resumes his work with blither zet; While the bright waters leap from rock to glen
Are we the happiest then? Alas, those roses !--they will fade away,
And thunder-tempests will deform the sky; And summer heats bid the spring buds decay,
And the clear sparkling fountain may be dry; And nothing beauteous may adorn the scene,
To tell what it has been!