第23章 III(15)

But I oped my eyes at last, And I heard a muffled sound;'Twas the night-breeze, come to say That the snow was on the ground.

Then I knew that there was rest On the mountain's bosom free;So I left my fevered couch, And I flew to waken thee!

I have flown to waken thee--

For, if thou wilt not arise, Then my soul can drink no peace From these holy moonlight skies.

And this waste of virgin snow To my sight will not be fair, Unless thou wilt smiling come, Love, to wander with me there.

Then, awake! Maria, wake!

For, if thou couldst only know How the quiet moonlight sleeps On this wilderness of snow, And the groves of ancient trees, In their snowy garb arrayed, Till they stretch into the gloom Of the distant valley's shade;I know thou wouldst rejoice To inhale this bracing air;Thou wouldst break thy sweetest sleep To behold a scene so fair.

O'er these wintry wilds, ALONE, Thou wouldst joy to wander free;And it will not please thee less, Though that bliss be shared with me.

THE CAPTIVE DOVE.

Poor restless dove, I pity thee;And when I hear thy plaintive moan, I mourn for thy captivity, And in thy woes forget mine own.

To see thee stand prepared to fly, And flap those useless wings of thine, And gaze into the distant sky, Would melt a harder heart than mine.

In vain--in vain! Thou canst not rise:

Thy prison roof confines thee there;Its slender wires delude thine eyes, And quench thy longings with despair.

Oh, thou wert made to wander free In sunny mead and shady grove, And far beyond the rolling sea, In distant climes, at will to rove!

Yet, hadst thou but one gentle mate Thy little drooping heart to cheer, And share with thee thy captive state, Thou couldst be happy even there.

Yes, even there, if, listening by, One faithful dear companion stood, While gazing on her full bright eye, Thou mightst forget thy native wood But thou, poor solitary dove, Must make, unheard, thy joyless moan;The heart that Nature formed to love Must pine, neglected, and alone.

SELF-CONGRATULATION.

Ellen, you were thoughtless once Of beauty or of grace, Simple and homely in attire, Careless of form and face;Then whence this change? and wherefore now So often smoothe your hair?

And wherefore deck your youthful form With such unwearied care?

Tell us, and cease to tire our ears With that familiar strain;Why will you play those simple tunes So often o'er again?

"Indeed, dear friends, I can but say That childhood's thoughts are gone;Each year its own new feelings brings, And years move swiftly on:

"And for these little simple airs--

I love to play them o'er So much--I dare not promise, now, To play them never more."

I answered--and it was enough;They turned them to depart;They could not read my secret thoughts, Nor see my throbbing heart.

I've noticed many a youthful form, Upon whose changeful face The inmost workings of the soul The gazer well might trace;The speaking eye, the changing lip, The ready blushing cheek, The smiling, or beclouded brow, Their different feelings speak.

But, thank God! you might gaze on mine For hours, and never know The secret changes of my soul From joy to keenest woe.

Last night, as we sat round the fire Conversing merrily, We heard, without, approaching steps Of one well known to me!

There was no trembling in my voice, No blush upon my cheek, No lustrous sparkle in my eyes, Of hope, or joy, to speak;But, oh! my spirit burned within, My heart beat full and fast!

He came not nigh--he went away--

And then my joy was past.

And yet my comrades marked it not:

My voice was still the same;They saw me smile, and o'er my face No signs of sadness came.

They little knew my hidden thoughts;And they will NEVER know The aching anguish of my heart, The bitter burning woe!

FLUCTUATIONS, What though the Sun had left my sky;To save me from despair The blessed Moon arose on high, And shone serenely there.

I watched her, with a tearful gaze, Rise slowly o'er the hill, While through the dim horizon's haze Her light gleamed faint and chill.

I thought such wan and lifeless beams Could ne'er my heart repay For the bright sun's most transient gleams That cheered me through the day:

But, as above that mist's control She rose, and brighter shone, I felt her light upon my soul;But now--that light is gone!

Thick vapours snatched her from my sight, And I was darkling left, All in the cold and gloomy night, Of light and hope bereft:

Until, methought, a little star Shone forth with trembling ray, To cheer me with its light afar--

But that, too, passed away.

Anon, an earthly meteor blazed The gloomy darkness through;I smiled, yet trembled while I gazed--

But that soon vanished too!

And darker, drearier fell the night Upon my spirit then;--

But what is that faint struggling light?

Is it the Moon again?

Kind Heaven! increase that silvery gleam And bid these clouds depart, And let her soft celestial beam Restore my fainting heart!

SELECTIONS FROM THE LITERARY REMAINS OF ELLIS AND ACTON BELL.

BY CURRER BELL.

SELECTIONS FROM POEMS BY ELLIS BELL.

It would not have been difficult to compile a volume out of the papers left by my sisters, had I, in making the selection, dismissed from my consideration the scruples and the wishes of those whose written thoughts these papers held. But this was impossible: an influence, stronger than could be exercised by any motive of expediency, necessarily regulated the selection. I have, then, culled from the mass only a little poem here and there. The whole makes but a tiny nosegay, and the colour and perfume of the flowers are not such as fit them for festal uses.

It has been already said that my sisters wrote much in childhood and girlhood. Usually, it seems a sort of injustice to expose in print the crude thoughts of the unripe mind, the rude efforts of the unpractised hand; yet I venture to give three little poems of my sister Emily's, written in her sixteenth year, because they illustrate a point in her character.