SECOND SIGHT. BY MRS. HEMANS. Ne'er erred the prophet heart that grief inspired, Though joy's illusions mock their votarist. MATURIN. I. A mournful gift is mine, O friends! A murmur of the soul, which blends With the flow of song and wine. II. An eye, that through the triumph's hour And dwells upon the faded flower, Midst the rich summer's glow. III. Ye smile to view fair faces bloom I see the stillness and the gloom Of a home whence all are fled. IV. I see the withered garlands lie Forsaken on the earth, While the lamps yet burn, and the dancers fly V. I see the blood-red future stain On the warrior's gorgeous crest, And the bier amidst the bridal train, When they come with roses drest. VI. I hear the still small moan of Time, Through the ivy-branches made, Where the palace, in its glory's prime, With the sunshine stands arrayed. The thunder of the seas I hear, The shriek along the wave, When the bark sweeps forth, and song and cheer Salute the parting brave. VIII. With every breeze a spirit sends To me some warning sign ; A mournful gift is mine, O friends! IX. Oh! prophet heart! thy grief, thy power To all deep souls belong; The shadow in the sunny hour, The wail in the mirthful song. X. This sight is all too sadly clear For them a veil is riven; Their piercing thoughts repose not here, SONG. I. LILY! the smile that lit thy brow II. And if the vow you plighted when Although an angel wept. THE DEATH OF THE FLOWERS. BY THE AUTHOR OF SOLITARY HOURS.' I. How happily, how happily the flowers die away! The gay II. and glorious creatures! they neither "toil nor spin ;" Yet, lo! what goodly raiment they're all apparelled in; No tears are on their beauty, but dewy gems more bright Than ever brow of eastern queen endiademed with light. III. The young rejoicing creatures! their pleasures never pall; Nor lose in sweet contentment, because so free to all!The dew, the showers, the sunshine, the balmy, blessed air, Spend nothing of their freshness, though all may freely share. IV. The happy careless creatures! of time they take no heed; Nor weary of his creeping, nor tremble at his speed; V. And when their lives are over, they drop away to rest, Unconscious of the penal doom, on holy Nature's breast; No pain have they in dying—no shrinking from decay —Oh! could we but return to earth as easily as they! |