And while her friends were with her, her pure mind

Seemed meekly to the will of heaven resigned;

But sometimes, if she sat in solitude,

Dark bodings on her spirit would intrude;
And then she thought of Henry: might she live,

One parting word to say-one kiss to give;

Might life's decaying lamp just faintly burn,
That she at once might welcome his return,
And bid farewell for ever;-that was all

She wished on earth; but every mortal thrall
She felt fast breaking, and she strove to crush
Each feeling of impatience, and to hush

The whisperings of her bosom, where still strove,
With resignation, woman's faithful love!

It was a wintry evening;--and the breeze Moaned wildly through the leafless poplar trees; And Margaret sadly sate beside the hearth

She once made joyous with her harmless mirth;

She started! for she heard her chamber door

Thrown open, and a step upon the floor

Behind her; and she felt that she was pressed

Again unto her Henry's throbbing breast!

She flung herself upon his bosom :-when

They parted from that long embrace, again
Her eyes were closed, and there was not a streak

Of colour on the pale and placid cheek ;

He laid his hand that faithful heart upon,

'T was motionless !-his Margaret's life was gone!

THE SLEEPERS.

THEY are sleeping! who are sleeping?

Children wearied with their play;

For the stars of night are peeping,
And the sun hath sunk away :

As the dew upon the blossoms

Bows them on the slender stem,—

So, as light as their own bosoms,

Balmy sleep has conquered them.

They are sleeping! who are sleeping? Mortals compassed round with woe,— Eyelids wearied out with weeping,

Close for very weakness now;

And that short relief from sorrow,

Harassed nature shall sustain,

Till they wake again to morrow,

Strengthened to contend with pain.

They are sleeping! who are sleeping?
Captives in their gloomy cells;

And sweet dreams are o'er them creeping,
With their thousand coloured spells.

All they loved! again they clasp them,— Feel again their long-lost joys!

But the haste with which they grasp them,

Every fairy form destroys.

They are sleeping! who are sleeping?

Misers by their hoarded gold;

And in fancy now are heaping

Gems and pearls of price untold.

Golden chains their limbs encumber,

Diamonds seem before them strown;

But they waken from their slumber,
And the splendid dream is gone.

They are sleeping! who are sleeping?
Pause a moment-lightly tread,-

Anxious friends are fondly keeping
Vigils by those sleepers' bed:

Other hopes have all forsaken,

One remains-that slumber deep; Speak not, lest they should awaken

From that sweet, that saving sleep.

They are sleeping! who are sleeping?

Thousands who have passed away,

From a world of woe and weeping,

To the regions of decay.