The City of the Bead. By L. E. L. "Twas dark with cypresses and yews which cast * Dark portal of another world-the grave I do not fear thy shadow; and methinks, With those who pine for them. I fear thee not; I only fear mine own unworthiness, Lest it prove barrier to my hope, and make 1. LAUREL! oh fling thy green boughs on the air, The ears of the midnight, why hang they on thee? 2. Rose of the morning, the blushing and bright, Her dark tresses' wealth from the wild summer wind. over; Fragrant as blooming-thou lovely rose tree! 3. Dark cypress I see thee - thou art my reply, Why the tears of the night on thy comrade trees lie; That laurel it wreathed the red brow of the brave, Yet thy shadow lies black on the warrior's grave. That rose was less bright than the lip which it prest, Yet thy sad branches sweep o'er the maiden's last rest: The brave and the lovely alike they are sleeping, 4 Yet sunbeam of heaven thou fall'st on the tomb- Thou art from another, a lovelier sphere, Thou art as a herald of hope from above :- feet, But gaze on yon starry world- there ye shall meet. 5. O heart of mine! is there not One dwelling there When I think of the glad and the beautiful home, I may kneel at thy feet, and part from thee no more; While death holds such hope forth to soothe and to save, Oh sunbeam of heaven thou mayest well light the grave. NIGHT AND DEATH. A SONNET. Dedicated to S. T. Coleridge, Esq. by his sincere friend, MYSTERIOUS night, when the first man but knew Thee by report, unseen, and heard thy name, Did he not tremble for this lovely frame, This glorious canopy of light and blue? Yet 'neath a curtain of translucent dew Bathed in the rays of the great setting flame, Hesperus, with the host of heaven, came, And lo! creation widened on his view! Who could have thought what darkness lay concealed Within thy beams, oh Sun? Or who could find, Whilst fly, and leaf, and insect stood revealed, That to such endless orbs thou mad'st us blind? Weak man! Why to shun death, this anxious strife? If light can thus deceive, wherefore not life? THE WANDERINGS OF CAIN. A FRAGMENT. By S. T. Coleridge, Esq. "A LITTLE further, O my father, yet a little further, and we shall come into the open moonlight!" Their road was through a forest of fir-trees; at its entrance the trees stood at distances from each other, and the path was broad, and the moonlight, and the moonlight shadows reposed upon it, and appeared quietly to inhabit that solitude. But soon the path winded and became narrow; the sun at high noon sometimes speckled, but never illumined it, and now it was dark as a cavern. "It is dark, O my father!" said Enos, 66 but the path under our feet is smooth and soft, and we shall soon come out into the open moonlight. why dost thou groan so deeply ?" Ah, "Lead on my child," said Cain, "guide me, little child." And the innocent little child clasped a finger of the hand which had murdered the righteous Abel, and he guided his father. "The fir branches drip upon thee my son."—" Yea, pleasantly, father, for I ran fast and eagerly to bring thee the pitcher and the C |