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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,
Can reflect other features when yours are removed :
You have reft it of all but your image, alas !——
If this be not loving, you have not been loved.

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-
Oh! 'twere well for my peace, could that lesson be

taught !

From the dream which recalls you, I wake but to weep— If this be forgetting, you have been forgot.

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