THE BRIDE OF THE GREEK ISLE.*

Fear!-I'm a Greek, and how should I fear death?

A slave, and wherefore should I dread my freedom?

COME from the woods with the citron-flowers,

Come with your lyres for the festal hours,
Maids of bright Scio! They came, and the breeze

Bore their sweet songs o'er the Grecian seas;-
They came, and Eudora stood rob'd and crown'd,
The bride of the morn, with her train around.

* Founded on a circumstance related in the Second Series of the Curiosities of Literature, and forming part of a picture in the "Painted Biography" there described.

Jewels flash'd out from her braided hair,

Like starry dews midst the roses there;
Pearls on her bosom quivering shone,
Heav'd by her heart thro' its golden zone;
But a brow, as those gems of the ocean pale,
Gleam'd from beneath her transparent veil;

Changeful and faint was her fair cheek's hue,
Tho' clear as a flower which the light looks through;
And the glance of her dark resplendent eye,

For the aspect of woman at times too high,
Lay floating in mists, which the troubled stream

Of the soul sent up o'er its fervid beam.

She look'd on the vine at her father's door,
Like one that is leaving his native shore ;
She hung o'er the myrtle once call'd her own,
As it greenly wav'd by the threshold stone;
She turn❜d—and her mother's gaze brought back

Each hue of her childhood's faded track.

Oh! hush the song, and let her tears
Flow to the dream of her early years!
Holy and pure are the drops that fall

When the

young bride goes from her father's hall;

She goes unto love yet untried and new,

She parts from love which hath still been true;
Mute be the song and the choral strain,

Till her heart's deep well-spring is clear again!
She wept on her mother's faithful breast,

Like a babe that sobs itself to rest;

She wept-yet laid her hand awhile

In his that waited her dawning smile,

Her soul's affianced, nor cherish'd less

For the gush of nature's tenderness!

She lifted her graceful head at last

The choking swell of her heart was past;

And her lovely thoughts from their cells found way

In the sudden flow of a plaintive lay.3

THE BRIDE'S FAREWELL.

Why do I weep?—to leave the vine
Whose clusters o'er me bend,-

The myrtle-yet, oh! call it mine!-
The flowers I lov'd to tend.

A thousand thoughts of all things dear,
Like shadows o'er me sweep,

I leave my sunny childhood here,
Oh, therefore let me weep!

I leave thee, sister! we have play'd

Thro' many a joyous hour,

Where the silvery green of the olive shade Hung dim o'er fount and bower.

Yes, thou and I, by stream, by shore,

In song, in prayer, in sleep,

Have been as we may be no more—

Kind sister, let me weep!

I leave thee, father! Eve's bright moon

Must now light other feet,

With the gather'd grapes, and the lyre in tune,

Thy homeward step to greet.

Thou in whose voice, to bless thy child,

Lay tones of love so deep,

Whose eye o'er all my youth hath smiled—

I leave thee! let me weep!

Mother! I leave thee! on thy breast,

Pouring out joy and wo,

I have found that holy place of rest

Still changeless,-—yet I go!

Lips, that have lull'd me with your strain,
Eyes, that have watch'd my sleep!

Will earth give love like yours again?
Sweet mother! let me weep!

And like a slight young tree, that throws

The weight of rain from its drooping boughs,

B