He was a child when thus the bower he wove, (Oh! hath a day fled since his childhood's time?) That I might sit and hear the sound I love, Beneath its shade-the convent's vesper-chime. And sit thou there! - for he was gentle ever, With his glad voice he would have welcomed thee, And brought fresh fruits to cool thy parch'd lips' fever There in his place thou 'rt resting-where is he? If I could hear that laughing voice again, But once again!—how oft it wanders by, The dark, clear, lightning eye!—on heaven and earth Fill'd all my home even with o'erflowing joy, Sweet laughter, and wild song, and footstep freeWhere is he now?-my pride, my flower, my boy! His sunny childhood melted from my sight, Like a spring dew-drop-then his forehead wore A prouder look-his eye a keener light I knew these woods might be his world no more! He loved me. but he left me!-thus they go Whom we have rear'd, watch'd, bless'd, too much adored! He heard the trumpet of the Red-Cross blow, And bounded from me with his father's sword! Thou weep'st-I tremble -thou hast seen the slain Oh! hath his smile departed?-Could the grave That look gives hope-I knew it could not be! Still weep'st thou, wand'rer?-some fond mother's glance O'er thee, too, brooded in thine early yearsThink'st thou of her, whose gentle eye, perchance, Bathed all thy faded hair with parting tears? Speak, for thy tears disturb me!-what art thou? Why dost thou hide thy face, yet weeping on? Look up!-oh! is it-that wan cheek and brow!Is it-alas! yet joy!-my son, my son! THEKLA'S SONG; OR, THE VOICE OF A SPIRIT. FROM THE GERMAN OF SCHILLER. This song is said to have been composed by Schiller in answer to the enquiries of his friends respecting the fate of Thekla, whose beautiful character is withdrawn from the tragedy of Wallenstein's Death, after her resolution to visit the grave of her lover is made known. ""Tis not merely The human being's pride that peoples space Since likewise for the stricken heart of love COLERIDGE'S Translation of Wallenstein. ASK'ST thou my home?-my pathway would'st thou know, When from thine eye my floating shadow pass'd! Was not my work fulfill'd and closed below? Had I not lived and loved?-my lot was cast. Would'st thou ask where the nightingale is gone, But while she loved, she lived, in that deep lay! Think'st thou my heart its lost one hath not found?— There shalt thou find us, there with us be blest, And well he feels, no error of the dust Drew to the stars of heaven his mortal ken, There it is with us, even as is our trust, He that believes, is near the holy then. There shall each feeling, beautiful and high, Keep the sweet promise of its earthly day;Oh! fear thou not to dream with waking eye! There lies deep meaning oft in childish play. THE REVELLERS. RING, joyous chords!-ring out again! They are here—the fair face and the careless heart, But I met a dimly mournful glance, In a sudden turn of the flying dance; I heard the tone of a heavy sigh In a pause of the thrilling melody! And it is not well that woe should breathe On the bright spring-flowers of the festal wreath! Ye that to thought or to grief belong, Leave, leave the hall of song! Ring, joyous chords!-but who art thou In the misty depths of thy soft dark eyes? Thou hast loved, fair girl! thou hast loved too well! There is not a tone in our songs for thee- Ring, joyous chords!—ring out again!— Ring, joyous chords!-ring forth again! By thine eye's quick flash through its troubled cloud, |