TO A SISTER. YES, dear one, to the envied train To think of him that's far away? But wilt thou not sometimes the while, But not in Fashion's brilliant hall, O, think not, think not of me there. But when the thoughtless crowd is gone, And hushed the voice of senseless glee, And all is silent, still and lone, And thou art sad, remember me. Remember me-but, loveliest, ne'er, When, in his orbit fair and high, The morning's glowing charioteer Rides proudly up the blushing sky; But when the waning moon-beam sleeps At moon-light on that lonely lea, And nature's pensive spirit weeps In all her dews, remember me. Remember me, I pray-but not In Flora's gay and blooming hour, When every brake hath found its note, And sunshine smiles in every flower; But when the falling leaf is sear, And withers sadly from the tree, And o'er the ruins of the year Cold Autumn weeps, remember me. Remember me-but choose not, dear, Remember me but not to join If haply some thy friends should praise; 'Tis far too dear, that voice of thine To echo what the stranger says. Softly, sometimes, to him repeat Remember me-not, I entreat, In scenes of festal week-day joy, For then it were not kind or meet, That thought thy pleasure should alloy; T But on the sacred, souema dry, And, dearest, on thy bended knee, When thou for those then lov't dost pray, Sweet spurst, then remember me. Remember me but not as I On thee for ever, ever övel, Win antious heart and drooping eye, Where dark and gloomy sons fee, Oh mere, my water, be my part, And audy there remember ne. GRENVILLE MELLEN. ON SEEING AN EAGLE PASS NEAR ME IN AUTUMN TWILIGHT. SAIL on, thou lone imperial bird, As the night's breezes round thee ring! Thou stoop'st to earth so lowly now? Or hast thou left thy rocking dome, So closely to this shadowy world, Yet lonely is thy shattered nest, Thy eyry desolate, though high; And lonely thou, alike, at rest, Or soaring in thy upper sky. The golden light that bathes thy plumes, Falls cheerless on earth's desert tombs, And makes the North's ice-mountains bright. So come the eagle-hearted down, So come the proud and high to earth, That bore unveiled fame's noontide sun; So man seeks solitude, to die, His high place left, his triumphs done. So, round the residence of power, A cold and joyless lustre shines, And on life's pinnacles will lower Clouds dark as bathe the eagle's pines; But O, the mellow light that pours From God's pure throne-the light that saves! It warms the spirit as it soars, And sheds deep radiance round our graves. |