A placid, pallid brow, which keepeth Which knows no change-no sorrow suffereth. Bind on that slumbering brow a fragrant rose-wreath, Sweets to the sweet! A TRIBUTE OF SYMPATHY. TO ROWLAND BROWN. THE quivering pulse grew feebler in its beating, Which welcomed her to her eternal home. Wrapt in the shadows of the tomb, she sleepeth; The fragile form, the mouldering clay, are there; O, mourning heart! thy pilgrim path is blighted, Shall heal thy wounded heart, and guard thy way. L JERUSALEM. SILENT and desolate the shattered walls, The vine-fringed arches, where the glare of day Ne'er gilds the gloom, save when a suubeam falls, Searching for beauty, finding but decay ;— Silent and desolate the winding streets. Where Israel's children once in thousands trod, Perchance a lonely pilgrim treads, and meets No answering echo to his weary plod— Is this Jerusalem, the city of our God? Ay!-Seated by yon sad memorial stones, : To bend the knee before their Prophet's shrine :- Where mournful cypress-leaves a fitting shade entwine. Around the city rise the hills of yore: The ancient streams still murmur to the breeze: E'en as of old, with venerable trees : But over all the melancholy change As when a star, amid the darkness gleaming, Mothers, and sons, and friends shall meet once more; A VISION. SPECTRE-FORMS are gliding round me: lo! the hazy moon revealeth Each pale phantom, as with noiseless tread it slowly passeth on: And in deep mysterious silence, see, the long procession stealeth To the Land of the Unknown. One dim shadow lingereth near me: hark! a ghostly whisper claimeth A remembrance of an earth-love ere the grave received its own: Ah! another, and another: and my mournful memory nameth Long-lost brethren, one by one. As I gaze with wondering glances on these once familiar faces, Lo! there gather round about them panoramas of the past: And they once more stand before me, robed in all the tender graces Which decay forbade to last. O! 'tis strange once more to see my childhood's inno cent romances, Feel again its wayward wildness, smile again its happy smile: And in dreamy recollection ponder o'er its fairest fan cies Though it is but for a while. But the vision quickly changeth, and in passionate embracings, To my lips one softly presseth a cold and chilly kiss; And my spirit throbs within me, as I see the faded tracings Of my brief Elysian bliss. Ah! the lingerers pass onwards, and the vision is decaying, As the shadows of the evening in their wonted places fall; And my straining glances see nought but the glimmering moonbeams playing On my lonely parlour wall. No! my mortal eyes may see not where the spirit-forms may linger, But I know they still are near me and I seem to see a hand Still outstretched amid the gloaming, and a beckoning with a finger To the never-dying land. BRIDE AND BRIDEGROOM. A BRIDE and bridegroom of a day |