Side by side as trees we'll grow, WOMAU. From a Poem entitled "Silent Love." JAMES WILSON, O woman! woman! ever true and kind, Thou sweet perfection of the gentle mind! Blest to refine thy lord-like brother-man, The last, but noblest of the Almighty's plan! How calm, how tender, and how full of love, An earthly angel sent him from above;A being in whose soft expressive eyes We read the light, the language of the skies! CALMNESS was on the summer sea, Waxed cloud-like, beautiful and dim, Fainter, and fainter, still it grew Into the gold enamelled blue, Which shaded from the summit's rim. Night closed about the ship, no sound Save of the plashing sea Was heard, the waters all around. Murmured so pleasantly, You would have thought the mermaids sang Down in their coral caves, So softly, and so sweetly rang The music of the waves. Slowly the watch paced o'er the deck, Humming some joyous air, How could he in such calmness reck The coming of despair, The good ship bore on steadily, Through the faint murmurs of the sea. But hark! the night is startled by a scream, It stretches round a blazing pyramid, The breaking billows catch the light, And roll it far into the night; Fainter, and fainter, still they grow, As sinks the fierce devouring glow. The fire upon the ship burns low. The sun from out the eastern sea MARY'S DREAM. ALEXANDER LOWE. THE moon had climb'd the highest hill Which rises o'er the source of Dee, And from the eastern summit shed Her silver light o'er tower and tree: When Mary laid her down to sleep, Her thoughts on Sandy far at sea; When soft and low a voice was heard Say, "Mary, weep no more for me!" She from her pillow gently raised Her head, to ask who there might be She saw young Sandy shivering stand, With visage pale and hollow e'e. "O Mary dear! cold is my clay, It lies beneath a stormy sea; Far, far from thee I sleep in death, So, Mary, weep no more for me! "Three stormy nights and stormy days We toss'd upon the raging main; And long we strove our bark to save, But all our striving was in vain. E'en then, when horror chill'd my blood, My heart was fill'd with love for thee; The storm is past, and I at rest, So, Mary, weep no more for me! "O maiden dear, thyself prepare, We soon shall meet upon that shore Where love is free from doubt and care, And thou and I shall part no more." Loud crow'd the cock, the shadow fled, No more of Sandy could she see; But soft the passing spirit said, "Sweet Mary, weep no more for me!" |