Themselves, when some alarming shock of fate
Strikes through their wounded hearts the sudden dread;
But their hearts wounded, like the wounded air,
Soon close; where, past the shaft, no trace is found.
As from the wing no scar the sky retains,
The parted wave no furrow from the keel,
So dies in human hearts the thought of death!
Even with the tender tear which nature sheds
O'er those we love, we drop it in their grave.

THE LAST HOURS OF ELLEN WOODVILLE.

A FEW hours before her death, she found herself considerably better: it was evening-a calm, beautiful, moonlight evening; and she requested to be removed to the sofa by the window. Ellen remained silent for a few minutes, she raised her meek eyes to heaven, her countenance wore an expression of something almost celestial, it appeared as if "illumined by a ray divine;" and so tranquil, so heavenly was her whole appearance, that she seemed as if already an inhabitant of the world unseen. In this state she remained for some time, apparently communing with her own heart, and absorbed in solemn meditation; after which, she requested her mother would read that sublime and touching prayer in the 17th chapter of John. Ellen was powerfully affected, she took the precious volume from the hands of her afflicted parent, and placing it into those of Mr. Harman, said, "Keep that, Edward! for my sake; it has been my guide through life, and my comforter in death; oh! may it also be yours!" After a long pause, which none sought to interrupt, she took a ring from her finger-it was one which he had given her in happier days-and putting it on that of her lover,-" Wear that, too, Edward!" her pale lips quivered, and a tear accompanied the gift; it was the last gush of human feeling: all after was tranquillity and peace.

66

Mr. Harman was inexpressibly affected; he kissed both the dear and valued gifts; he knelt and clasped her thin transparent hands;—" In my heart of hearts, Ellen!" he articulated, "will I treasure up your words: next to the holy book of God, they will be the guide of my remaining days; and when they are ended, may we meet again, in that land of blessedness to which you first pointed out the way." Here Ellen observed her sister weeping; she beckoned her to approach, and gently taking her hand, said, Dry these tears, my kind, affectionate Lucy! nor grieve for me: it is the hand of a Father which is leading me away, and shall I unwillingly follow its direction? no, no, I have long looked forward to this hour; and my entire faith in the infinite goodness and mercy of God, as declared unto us by his Son, leaves me no shadow of a doubt with respect to my future happiness. I feel," added she, tenderly embracing her, "I can say no more: farewell, then, my dear, my only sister! may we meet in heaven!" Death was now fast approaching; a considerable alteration had taken place in her countenance, but it still retained its calmness and placidity: she once more opened her eyes, and raising them to heaven, faintly ejaculated,— "O my Father! thou hast guided me through life-thou supportest me in death! what but the incense of an adoring heart, have I to offer for all?" Then, taking the hand of her mother, who, pale and motionless, sat regarding her with looks of the most touching anguish,-" God bless you, my dearest, best of parents!-oh, farewell! Adieu, dear Lucy-Edward—” a smile accompanied the words, and she sunk exhausted on the pillow. They were the last she ever spoke: very soon after, a restlessness took place, and a difficulty of breathing; and during these painful moments, all stood round the bed, contemplating the last, faint struggles of mortality. At length, after a pause of perfect stillness, a marked appearance of sensibility revisited the eyes of the dying saint. She turned them upon each of her friends with

66

a smile of ineffable sweetness, and then towards heaven to their resting-place;-her pale lips moved, but no sound was uttered; and the last incense of her devout and grateful heart, silently ascended to the throne of grace and mercy.

PRISONER OF CHILLON.

O GOD! it is a fearful thing

To see the human soul take wing
In any shape, in any mood!
I've seen it rushing forth in blood-
I've seen it on the breaking ocean
Strive with a swoln, convulsive motion,—
I've seen the sick and ghastly bed
Of Sin, delirious with its dread!
But these were horrors-this was woe
Unmix'd with such, but sure and slow:
He faded, and so calm and meek,
So softly worn, so sweetly weak,
So tearless, yet so tender—kind,
And grieved for those he left behind;
With all the while a cheek whose bloom
Was as a mockery of the tomb,
Whose tints as gently sunk away
As a departing rainbow's ray;
An eye of most transparent light,
That almost made the dungeon bright,
And not a word of murmur-not
A groan o'er his untimely lot!
A little talk of better days,
A little hope my own to raise,
For I was sunk in silence-lost
In this last loss, of all the most;
And then the sighs he would suppress
Of fainting nature's feebleness,

More slowly drawn, grew less and less:

I listen'd, but I could not hear—
I call'd, for I was wild with fear;
I knew 'twas hopeless, but my dread
Would not be thus admonished;
I call'd, and thought I heard a sound-
I burst my chain with one strong bound,
And rush'd to him:-I found him not,

I only stirr'd in this black spot,
I only lived-I only drew
The accursed breath of dungeon-dew;
The last-the sole the dearest link
Between me and the eternal brink,
Which bound me to my failing race,
Was broken in this fatal place.
One on the earth, and one beneath-
My brothers-both had ceased to breathe:
I took that hand which lay so still,
Alas! my own was full as chill;
I had not strength to stir, or strive,
But felt that I was still alive-
A frantic feeling, when we know
That what we love shall ne'er be so.

I know not why

I could not die,

I had no earthly hope-but faith,
And that forbade a selfish death.

A light broke in upon my brain,---
It was the carol of a bird;

It ceased, and then it came again,

The sweetest song ear ever heard,
And mine was thankful till my eyes
Ran over with the glad surprise,
And they that moment could not see
I was the mate of misery;

G

But then by dull degrees came back
My senses to their wonted track,
I saw the dungeon walls and floor
Close slowly round me as before,
I saw the glimmer of the sun
Creeping as it before had done,
But through the crevice where it came
That bird was perch'd as fond and tame,
And tamer than upon the tree;
A lovely bird, with azure wings,
And song that said a thousand things,
And seem'd to say them all for me!
I never saw its like before,

I ne'er shall see its likeness more:
It seem'd, like me, to want a mate,
But was not half so desolate,

And it was come to love me, when
None lived to love me so again,
And cheering from my dungeon's brink,
Had brought me back to feel and think.
I know not if it late were free,

Or broke its cage to perch on mine, But knowing well captivity,

Sweet bird! I could not wish for thine!

Or if it were, in winged guise,

A visitant from Paradise;
For-Heaven forgive that thought! the while
Which made me both to weep and smile;

I sometimes deem'd that it might be
My brother's soul come down to me;
But then at last away it flew,
And then 'twas mortal-well I knew,
For he would never thus have flown,
And left me twice so doubly lone,—
Lone as the corse within its shroud,
Lone as a solitary cloud,