And then our ghosts, whilst raves the madden'd storm,

Will sweep at midnight o'er the wilder'd wave;

YES! all is past-swift time has fled Wilt thou our lowly beds with tears of

I sought the cold brink of the midnight surge,

I sigh'd beneath its wave to hide my

woes,

The rising tempest sung a funeral dirge,
And on the blast a frightful yell arose.
Wild flew the meteors o'er the madden'd
main,

pity lave?"

sigh.

It is the Benshie's moan on the storm, Or a shivering fiend that thirsting for sin,

Seeks murder and guilt when virtue sleeps,

Wilder did grief athwart my bosom Wing'd with the power of some ruthless

glare;

king,

Still'd was the unearthly howling, and And sweeps o'er the breast of the prostrate plain.

a strain,

It was not a fiend from the regions of Still secure 'mid the wildest war of the hell sky,

That poured its low moan on the still- The phantom courser scours the waste, And his rider howls in the thunder's

ness of night :

It is not the shade of a murdered More distinct than the thunder's wildest

Who has rushed uncalled to the throne Then does the dragon, who chain'd in the caverns

of his God,

And howls in the pause of the eddying To eternity, curses the champion of

This voice is low, cold, hollow, and Moan and yell loud at the lone hour of chill, midnight, 'Tis not heard by the ear, but is felt in And twine his vast wreaths round the forms of the demons;

the soul. 'Tis more frightful far than the death- Then in agony roll his death-swimming

demon's scream,

eyeballs,

Or the laughter of fiends when they Though wilder'd by death, yet never to

Of a man who has sold his soul to Then he shakes from his skeleton folds

Yet when the fierce swell of the tempest On the blast that sweeps the breast of

the lake,

And the whirlwinds howl in the caves And mingles its swell with the moon

is raving,

MELODY TO A SCENE OF

FORMER TIMES

ART thou indeed for ever gone,
For ever, ever, lost to me?
Must this poor bosom beat alone,
Or beat at all, if not for thee?
Ah! why was love to mortals given,
To lift them to the height of heaven,
Or dash them to the depths of hell?
Yet I do not reproach thee, dear!
Ah! no, the agonies that swell

This panting breast, this frenzied
brain

Might wake my

tear.

And thine must ever, ever be." But oh! awak'ning still anew, Athwart my enanguish'd senses flew A fiercer, deadlier agony!

[End of Posthumous Fragments of Margaret Nicholson.]

STANZA FROM A TRANSLA
TION OF THE MARSEIL-
LAISE HYMN

TREMBLE Kings despised of man!
Ye traitors to your Country

-'s slumb'ring Tremble! Your parricidal plan
At length shall meet its destiny
We all are soldiers fit to fight
But if we sink in glory's night
Our mother Earth will give ye new
The brilliant pathway to pursue
Which leads to Death or Victory ..

Oh! heaven is witness I did love,
And heaven does know I love thee still,
Does know the fruitless sick'ning thrill,
When reason's judgment vainly strove
To blot thee from my memory;
But which might never, never be.
Oh! I appeal to that blest day
When passion's wildest ecstasy
Was coldness to the joys I knew,
When every sorrow sunk away.
Oh! I had never liv'd before,
But now those blisses are no more.
And now I cease to live again,
I do not blame thee love; ah no!
The breast that feels this anguish'd woe
Throbs for thy happiness alone.
Two years of speechless bliss are gone,
I thank thee dearest for the dream.
'Tis night-what faint and distant scream
Comes on the wild and fitful blast?
It moans for pleasures that are past,
It moans for days that are gone by.
Oh! lagging hours how slow you fly!
I see a dark and lengthen'd vale,
The black view closes with the tomb;
But darker is the lowering gloom

That shades the intervening dale.
In visioned slumber for awhile
I seem again to share thy smile,
I seem to hang upon thy tone.

Again you say, "Confide in me,
For I am thine, and thine alone,

Yet more lenient, more gentle OH! take the pure gem to where

Waves too pure, too celestial, for For I found the pure gem, when the

What remains, but to curse him,-to Seeks Heaven to mix with its own