Part 22 (1/2)

MORNING.

_(”L'aurore s'allume.”)_

[XX. a, December, 1834.]

Morning glances. .h.i.ther, Now the shade is past; Dream and fog fly thither Where Night goes at last; Open eyes and roses As the darkness closes; And the sound that grows is Nature walking fast.

Murmuring all and singing, Hark! the news is stirred, Roof and creepers clinging, Smoke and nest of bird; Winds to oak-trees bear it, Streams and fountains hear it, Every breath and spirit As a voice is heard.

All takes up its story, Child resumes his play, Hearth its ruddy glory, Lute its lifted lay.

Wild or out of senses, Through the world immense is Sound as each commences Schemes of yesterday.

W.M. HARDINGE.

SONG OF LOVE.

_(”S'il est un charmant gazon.”)_

[XXII, Feb. 18, 1834.]

If there be a velvet sward By dewdrops pearly drest, Where through all seasons fairies guard Flowers by bees carest, Where one may gather, day and night, Roses, honeysuckle, lily white, I fain would make of it a site For thy foot to rest.

If there be a loving heart Where Honor rules the breast, Loyal and true in every part, That changes ne'er molest, Eager to run its n.o.ble race, Intent to do some work of grace, I fain would make of it a place For thy brow to rest.

And if there be of love a dream Rose-scented as the west, Which shows, each time it comes, a gleam,-- A something sweet and blest,-- A dream of which heaven is the pole, A dream that mingles soul and soul, I fain of it would make the goal Where thy mind should rest.

TORU DUTT.

SWEET CHARMER.[1]

_(”L'aube nait et ta porte est close.”)_

[XXIII., February, 18--.]

Though heaven's gate of light uncloses, Thou stirr'st not--thou'rt laid to rest, Waking are thy sister roses, One only dreamest on thy breast.

Hear me, sweet dreamer!

Tell me all thy fears, Trembling in song, But to break in tears.

Lo! to greet thee, spirits pressing, Soft music brings the gentle dove, And fair light falleth like a blessing, While my poor heart can bring thee only love.