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Hath been thine exiled youth; but now take back,
From dying hands, thy freedom, and re-track (After a few kind tears for her whose days Went out in dreams of thee) the sunny ways
Of hope, and find thou happiness! Yet send, Ev'n then, in silent hours a thought, dear friend! Down to my voiceless chamber; for thy love Hath been to me all gifts of earth above,
Tho' bought with burning tears! It is the sting
Of death to leave that vainly-precious thing
In this cold world!
What were it then, if thou,
With thy fond eyes, wert gazing on me now?
Into that word: thou hear'st not,-but the wo
THE BRIDE OF THE GREEK ISLE.*
Fear!-I'm a Greek, and how should I fear death?
A slave, and wherefore should I dread my freedom?
COME from the woods with the citron-flowers,
*Founded on a circumstance related in the Second Series of the Curiosities of Literature, and forming part of a picture in the "Painted Biography" there described.
Jewels flash'd out from her braided hair,
Like starry dews midst the roses there;
She look'd on the vine at her father's door,
Oh! hush the song, and let her tears
Flow to the dream of her early years !
When the young bride goes from her father's hall;
She parts from love which hath still been true;
Till her heart's deep well-spring is clear again!
Like a babe that sobs itself to rest;
In his that waited her dawning smile,
She lifted her graceful head at last—
The choking swell of her heart was past;
And her lovely thoughts from their cells found way
In the sudden flow of a plaintive lay.3
THE BRIDE'S FAREWELL.
Why do I weep?-to leave the vine
The myrtle-yet, oh! call it mine!--
A thousand thoughts of all things dear,
Like shadows o'er me sweep,
I leave my sunny childhood here,
I leave thee, sister! we have play'd
Thro' many a joyous hour,
Where the silvery green of the olive shade
Hung dim o'er fount and bower.
Yes, thou and I, by stream, by shore,
In song, in prayer, in sleep,
Have been as we may be no more
Kind sister, let me weep!