THERE was a light upon the stream,
Just one pale and silent beam
From the moon's departing car,
From the setting morning star,
Like Hope asking, timidly,
Whether it must live or die;
But that twilight pause is past !—
Crimson hues are colouring fast,
All the eastern clouds that fly,
Banners spread triumphantly.
The moon is but a speck of white,
The sun has looked away her light;
Farewell Night, thy shadowy gleams,
Dewy flowers, gentle dreams!
Be thy starry pinions furled,-
Day has blushed upon the world.
Never day-beam hath shone o'er
Lovelier or wilder shore!
Half was land, and half was sea,
Where the eye could only see
The blue sky for boundary.
From the green woods sounds are ringing,
For the wakened birds are singing
To the blossoms where they slept,
Thanks for the sweet watch they kept.
Here stand tall and stately trees;
Others, that the slightest breeze
Bows to earth, and from their bloom
Shakes and rifles the perfume:
Like woman, feeble but to bless,
Sweetest in weak loveliness!
Music is upon the air,
Azure wings are waving there;
Music is on yonder hill,
A low song from its bright rill,
Where the water lilies float,
And the Indian Cupid's boat,
The red Lotus; while above
Hang the Grecian flowers of love,
Roses-leading soft and bright,
Lives, half perfume and half light;
In their leaves the honey bee
Lulled to sleep, voluptuously.
There are shades, which the red sun
Never yet has looked upon;
Where the moon has but the power
Of a cool and twilight hour.
By the sea are sparry caves,
Where the music of the waves
Never ceases, and the walls
Are hung with the coronals
Left by Sea-maids, when they wring
Pearls which in their wet hair cling.
"Tis a land of fruit and flowers,
Silver waters, sunny hours;
Human foot has never prest
Its so sweet and silent rest.
But a bark is on the sea,
And those in that bark will be
Soon upon the island shore,
And its loneliness is o'er !
Oh, if any dare intrude
On the lovely solitude!
If there be that need not fear
Breaking the sweet quiet here!
If there should be those, for whom
Leaves expand and flowers bloom,
Birds breathe song,-oh, if there be,
Surely, Love, it is for thee!
Lover's step would softly press
Flowers with its light caress;
Lover's words would have atone
With each song in unison!
Lover's smiles would be as fair
As the sunniest day-beam there;
And no roses would be sweet
As the sighs when lovers meet.
The slight bark came o'er the sea,
Two leant in it mournfully:
One who left her convent cell
With the youth she loved so well;
One who left his native land
For the sake of that dear hand.
Shine and storm they had sailed through—
What is there love dare not do?
Her arm round his neck was thrown,
His was round her like a zone,
Guarding with such anxious fear
All it had in love most dear.
Pale her cheek, and the sea spray
Dashed upon it, as she lay
Pillowed on her lover's arm;
But her lip still kept the charm
(Fondly raised to his the while)
Of its own peculiar smile,
As with him she had no fear
Of the rushing waters near;
And the youth's dark flashing eye
Answered her's, so tenderly,
So wildly, warmly, passionate,
As she only were his fate.
But Hope rises from her
There is a land upon the wave:
What are toils or perils past
Reached is the bright isle at last,
Free from care or earthly thrall,
For Love's own sweet festival!
A REVERIE AT MATLOCK, IN DERBYSHIRE.
BY JAMES MONTGOMERY, ESQ.
WERE I a trembling leaf
On yonder stately tree,
After a season gay and brief,
Condemned to fade and flee,-
I should be loth to fall
Beside the common way,
Weltering in mire, and spurned by all,
Till trodden down to clay.
I would not choose to die
All on a bed of grass,
Where thousands of my kindred lie,
And idly rot in mass.
Nor would I like to spread
My thin and withered face,
In hortus siccus, pale and dead,
A mummy of my race.
No, on the wings of air
Might I be left to fly,
I know not, and I heed not where,
A waif of earth and sky!
Or, cast upon the stream,
Curled like a fairy-boat,
As through the changes of a dream,
To the world's end I'd float.
Who, that hath ever been,
Could bear to be no more?
Yet who would tread again the scene
He trod through life before. !
On, with intense desire,
Man's spirit will move on;
It seems to die, yet like heaven's fire
It is not quenched, but gone.
"Twas not when early flowers were springing,
When skies were sheen,
And wheat was green,
And birds of love were singing,
That first I loved thee, or that thou
Didst first the tender claim allow.
For when the silent woods had faded
From green to yellow,-
When fields were fallow,
And the changed skies o'ershaded,
My love might then have shared decay,
Or passed with summer songs away.
'Twas winter,-cares and clouds were 'round me, Instead of flowers
When Love unguarded found me:
'Mid wintry scenes my passion grew,
And wintry cares have proved it true,
Dear are the hours of summer weather,
When all is bright,
And hearts are light,
And Love and Nature joy together ;
But stars from night their lustre borrow,—
And hearts are closer twined by sorrow.
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