THE BRIDAL. BY THE REV. THOMAS DALE. I. BEFORE the altar now they kneel-the bridegroom and the bride, And who shall paint what lovers feel in this their hour of pride; Their hour of pride, when each can turn to years of suffering past, And both with speechless transport burn, that thus they meet at last! II. Yet 'tis not in the blushing bride, all beauteous as she seems, Like angel-forms through air that glide, to bless a martyr's dreams; Not in the bridegroom's stately mien, dark eye, brow, and daring The sight that chains mine eye is seen, and fills my bosom now. III. See'st thou that pale yet lovely maid, the sister of the bride, In robes of virgin-white arrayed, and kneeling at her side? Mark her dim eye and bloodless cheek-ah, wherefore dost thou start? Too well thou know'st, that both bespeak the struggling of the heart! IV. It is not that she mourns alone the tie where many blend, The gentle girl who links in one, companion, sister, friend; Sorrow for this perchance awhile had dimmed with tears her eye, Yet sorrow tempered by a smile, and tears that soon would dry. V. But oh! a closer, dearer tie is torn asunder now; A grief more hopeless dims her eye, and darkens on her brow; In silence and in solitude, a fatal flame was nursed; Ah! why that flame still unsubdued-thus would she brave the worst? VI. She thought with patient ear to hear the irrevocable vow That pledged his faith to one more dear-he is another's now! The prayers are prayed; the vows are said; they look the' unuttered bliss : O how wilt thou endure, fond maid, to give the parting kiss? VII. And now in close embrace she strains her sister to her breast, Yet still her latent grief remains unknown as unconfessed; No anxious fears the bridegroom move, her gushing tears to see He has but loved as brothers love, and as a sister she. VIII. And now the farewell words are said; the wedded pair depart To her lone home the gentle maid bears back a breaking heart; A heart that cannot cease to love, until it beats no more, And only hopes for rest above, when this sad strife is o'er. IX. For never shall the loved one know what she hath felt and feels, Not when at length in speechless woe beside her bed he kneels ; To him then be her last farewell-her parting accents given, Without a word on earth to tell what must be loved in heaven. STANZAS FOR MUSIC. BY W. READ, ESQ. I. O, DOUBT not! nor deem that my heart, like a glass, II. I never deceived you, and yet you condemn Is this the reward my fond truth has achieved? I turned from my friends, and preferred you to them— If this be deceiving, you have been deceived. III. Nor deem I forget, though between roll the deep- taught ! From the dream which recalls you, I wake but to weep— If this be forgetting, you have been forgot. |