The Criminal.

I

Stanzas.

BY CAROLINE BOWLES.

NEVER cast a flower away,

The gift of one who cared for me,

A little flower,-a faded flower,—
But it was done reluctantly.

I never look'd a last adieu

To things familiar, but my heart
Shrank with a feeling almost pain,
Even from their lifelessness to part.

I never spoke the word farewell!

But with an utterance faint and broken;

A heart-sick yearning for the time
When it should never more be spoken.

105

The Criminal.

BY MISS LANDON, (L. E. L.)

IS silence in that cell, and dim the light

'TIS

Gleaming from the sunk lamp; there is one stands

Fetter'd and motionless-so very pale,

That were he laid within his winding-sheet,

And death were on him, yet his cheek could not

Wear ghastlier hues; cold damps are on his brow;

With intense passion the red veins are swell'd;

The white lip quivers witn suppressed sobs,

And his dark eye is glazed with tears, which still
He is too stern to shed. His countenance

Bears wild and fearful traces of the years

Which have pass'd on in guilt; pride, headstrong ire, Have left their marks behind. Yet, 'mid this war

Of evil elements, some glimpses shine

Of better feelings, which, like clouded stars,
Soon set in night. A sullen sound awakes
The silence of the cell:-and up he starts,
Roused from his dizzy trance of wretchedness,
And gasps for breath, as that deep solemn toll
Sinks on his spirit, like a warning voice
Sent from Eternity; again it rolls—
Thy awful bell, St Sepulchre, which tells
The criminal of death; his life-pulse stops,
As if in awe, and then beats rapidly :
Flushes a sudden crimson on his face-
Passes, and leaves it deadlier than before.

The door was open'd, and the chains were struck
From off his shackled limbs. They led him forth.
They led him on; his step was firm, although
His face was deadly pale; and when he reach'd
The scaffold, he knelt meekly down and pray'd.
Silence was all around; his eyes were closed:
This world one gasp concluded, and to him
Open'd Eternity.

Spring Birds.

107

Spring Birds.

BY J. H. WIFFEN.

HARK to the merry gossip of the Spring!

The sweet mysterious voice which peoples place With an Italian beauty, and does bring As 'twere Elysium from the wilds of space Where'er her wing inhabits,-give it chase, In other bowers the fairy shouts again; Where'er we run it mocks our rapid raceStill the same loose note in a golden chain Rings through the vocal woods, and fills with joy the plain.

Hail to thee, shouting Cuckoo! in my youth
Thou wert long time the Ariel of my hope,
The marvel of a Summer! it did soothe
To listen to thee on some sunny slope,
Where the high oaks forbade an ampler scope
Than of the blue skies upward, and to sit
Canopied in the gladdening horoscope

Which thou my planet flung-a pleasant fit

Long time my hours endear'd, my kindling fancy smit.

And thus I love thee still-thy monotony
The selfsame transport flashes through my frame;
And when thy voice, sweet Sibyl, all is flown,

My eager ear I cannot choose but blame.
O may the world these feelings never tame!

If Age o'er me her silver tresses spread,
It still would call thee by a lover's name,
And deem the spirit of delight unfled,

Nor bear, though gray without, a heart to Nature dead.

IN

The Head of Memnon.

BY HORACE SMITH.

N Egypt's centre, when the world was young, My statue soar'd aloft—a man-shaped tower, O'er hundred-gated Thebes, by Homer sung, And built by Apis' and Osiris' power.

When the sun's infant eye more brightly blazed,
I mark'd the labours of unwearied Time,
And saw, by patient centuries up-raised,
Stupendous temples, obelisks sublime.

Hewn from the rooted rock, some mightier mound, Some new colossus more enormous springs,

So vast, so firm, that, as I gazed around,

I thought them, like myself, eternal things.

Then did I mark, in sacerdotal state, Psammis the king, whose alabaster tomb (Such the inscrutable decrees of Fate)

Now floats athwart the sea to share my doom.

O Thebes! I cried, thou wonder of the world!
Still shalt thou soar, its everlasting boast!
When lo! the Persian standards were unfurl'd,
And fierce Cambyses led the invading host.

Where from the East a cloud of dust proceeds,
A thousand banner'd suns at once appear;
Nought else was seen; but sound of neighing steeds
And faint barbaric music met mine ear.

The Head of Memnon.

Onward they march, and foremost I descried
A cuirass'd Grecian band in phalanx dense;
Around them throng'd, in Oriental pride,

Commingled tribes-a wild magnificence.

Dogs, cats, and monkeys in their van they show,
Which Egypt's children worship and obey;
They fear to strike a sacrilegious blow,
And fall-a pious, unresisting prey.

Then, havoc leaguing with infuriate zeal,
Palaces, temples, cities are o'erthrown,
Apis is stabb'd!-Cambyses thrusts the steel,
And shuddering Egypt heaved a general groan.

109

The firm Memnonium mock'd their feeble powerFlames round its granite columns hiss'd in vain ;— The head of Isis, frowning o'er each tower,

Look'd down with indestructible disdain.

Mine was a deeper and more quick disgrace :-
Beneath my shade a wondering army flock'd;
With force combined, they wrench'd me from my base,
And earth beneath the dread concussion rock'd.

Nile from his banks receded with affright;

The startled Sphinx long trembled at the sound;
While from each pyramid's astounded height,
The loosen'd stones slid rattling to the ground.

I watch'd, as in the dust supine I lay,

The fall of Thebes,-as I had mark'd its fame,Till crumbling down, as ages roll'd away,

Its site a lonely wilderness became.