TO A SISTER.

YES, dear one, to the envied train
Of those around thy homage pay;
But wilt thou never kindly deign

To think of him that's far away?
Thy form, thine eye, thine angel smile,
For many years I may not see;

But wilt thou not sometimes the while,
My sister dear, remember me?

But not in Fashion's brilliant hall,
Surrounded by the gay and fair,
And thou the fairest of them all,-

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,
The hour when, on the gentle lake,
The sportive wavelets, blue and clear,
Soft rippling, to the margin break;
But when the deafning billows foam
In madness o'er the pathless sea,
Then let thy pilgrim fancy roam
Across them, and remember me.

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.
They know us not-but shouldst thou meet
Some faithful friend of me and thee,

Softly, sometimes, to him repeat
My name, and then remember me.

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,
And door oud grieve the should I se
But in shy calm, unclouded heart,

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,
Of quenchless eye and tireless wing;
How is thy distant coming heard

As the night's breezes round thee ring!
Thy course was 'gainst the burning sun
In his extremest glory! How!
Is thy unequalled daring done,

Thou stoop'st to earth so lowly now?

Or hast thou left thy rocking dome,
Thy roaring crag, thy lightning pine,
To find some secret, meaner home,
Less stormy and unsafe than thine?
Else why thy dusky pinions bend

So closely to this shadowy world,
And round thy scorching glances send,
As wishing thy broad pens were furled?

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,
On thine interminable flight,

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,
When life's night-gathering tempests frown
Over their glory and their mirth;
So quails the mind's undying eye,

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.