Shall murmur by the hedge that skirts the

way,

The cricket chirp upon the russet lea,

And man delight to linger in thy ray.

Yet one rich smile, and we will try to bear The piercing winter frost, and winds, and darkened air.

SONG OF THE GREEK AMAZON.

I BUCKLE to my slender side

The pistol and the scimitar,

And in my maiden flower and pride
Am come to share the tasks of war.

And yonder stands my fiery steed,

That paws the ground and neighs to go, My charger of the Arab breed,—

I took him from the routed foe.

My mirror is the mountain spring,
At which I dress my ruffled hair;

My dimmed and dusty arms I bring,
And wash away the blood-stain there.
Why should I guard from wind and sun
This cheek, whose virgin rose is fled?
It was for one-oh, only one-

I kept its bloom, and he is dead.

But they who slew him-unaware

Of coward murderers lurking nigh— And left him to the fowls of air,

Are yet alive-and they must die. They slew him—and my virgin years

Are vowed to Greece and vengeance now,

And many an Othman dame in tears,

Shall rue the Grecian maiden's vow.

I touched the lute in better days,
I led in dance the joyous band;
Ah! they may move to mirthful lays

Whose hands can touch a lover's hand.

The march of hosts that haste to meet Seems gayer than the dance to me; The lute's sweet tones are not so sweet As the fierce shout of victory.

TO A CLOUD.

BEAUTIFUL cloud! with folds so soft and fair, Swimming in the pure quiet air!

Thy fleeces bathed in sunlight, while below Thy shadow o'er the vale moves slow; Where, midst their labor, pause the reaper train, As cool it comes along the grain.

Beautiful cloud! I would I were with thee

In thy calm way o'er land and sea :

To rest on thy unrolling skirts, and look
On Earth as on an open book;

7*