.Barry Cornwall 148
Miss Bowles 149

The Death of the First-born.

The Wakening

The Child's Dream

Mrs. Hemans 218
.Lord J. Russell 227

Halleck 230

Mrs. Hemans 232

TABLE OF FIRST LINES.

A spirit, golden-haired, upon the side
A light is gone from yonder sky
Among the dwellings framed by birds.
Alas! they had been friends in youth
A cloud is on iny heart and brow
Art thou a thing of mortal birth
A beautiful and laughing thing
All as he left it' even the pen

A perilous life, and sad as life may be
Awake! the starry midnight hour
All night the booming minute gun
Away-away-why dost thou linger here
And thou art dead-as young and fair
And she was passing from the woods away
And is there sadness in thy dreams, my boy?
A white sail gleaming on the flood

A pilgrim of the harp was he

Ay, moralize on love, and deem

And is there glory from the heavens departed?

Beautiful creature, I have been.

Bride upon thy marriage day

Come again! come again!

Come to thy home, beloved!

Come away! the sunny hours

Come to my arras, my dear wee pet
Couldst thou but know what 'tis to weep

Day dawned. Within a curtained room
Dear is my little native vale
Dost thou idly ask to hear

From the bright stars, or from the viewless air

Fear not that, while around thee

Farewell! if ever fondest prayer

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320

Fare thee well, soul of sweet Romance! farewell
Fair images of sleep!

"Forget thee?"-If to dream by night, and muse on

thee by day

Gone from her cheek is the summer bloom

How long shall man's imprison'd spirit groan.
He sleeps, forgetful of his once bright fame
High on her speculative tower.
Hark! through the dim wood dying

Hope comes again, to this heart long a stranger
Her hands were clasp'd, her dark eyes rais'd
How happily, how happily the flowers die away!
He stood supreme in lofty genius, proud

He who hath bent him o'er the dead
How sweet and solemn, all alone
How beautiful this night! the balmiest sigh
Hail to this teeming stage of strife!

How many thousands are wakening now!
Hark! friends, it strikes; the year's last hour

His was a harp just fit to pour

How beautiful upon the wave

Her mighty sails the breezes swell

I am come back to my bower

I would I were a fairy, as light as falling snows