NINA TO RIENZI.

LEAVE thee, Rienzi! Speak not thus,
Why should I quit thy side?
Say, shall I shrink with craven fear,
Thine own, and freedom's bride?
Whence comes the sternness on thy lip-
Needs Nina to be tried?

I leave thee! didst thou win and wed
A fond, weak girl-to twine
Her arms around thee in thy joy-
To press her lips to thine,

And breathe a love born of the heart,

But not the soul divine!

To thrill with childish awe, whene'er

Thy brow grew dark with thought,

And when the threat'ning lightnings gleamed Thy dark'ning sky athwart,

Shrink from the crash, and leave thee lone,

Amid the wrecks it wrought!

Am I not thine-wedded to thee

In heart, and soul, and mind—

Thou, and free Rome, within my breast

As on one altar shrined

My destiny, my very life,

Closely with thine entwined!

Thou calledst me thine, when freemen flung

Fame's laurel on thy brow;

ΝΙΝΑ ΤΟ RIENZI.

And am I less thine own-my love

Less fondly cherished now,

When Rome-dishonouring miscreants dare
That name to disavow!

Look in mine eyes! thou know'st thy love

Has been to me a heaven,

In which my soul has floated, like
The one pure star of even-
Proud in the lofty consciousness
Of glory gained and given.

Nay, strive not to look coldly, love;
Thou reck'st not of the power
With which my heart will cling to thine
In mad misfortune's hour-

Glowing more bright its changeless truth,
As darker storms shall lower.

And oh, Rienzi! should Heaven deem
Thy sacred mission done,

How glorious 't were to die with thee,

My own, my worshipped oneAs, bathed in living light, the day

Dies with the setting sun!

Anna H. Phillips.

LOVE grew in those calm shadows, silently;
It could not choose but grow, thou wert so dear-
The darling of all hearts, for, far and near,
All loved thee, high and low. I used to see

Rough peasant faces wrinkle into glee,
When thy fresh, happy face and smile of cheer
Met theirs, and honey-sweet upon their ear
Fell thy low-whispered words of sympathy.

LOVE GREW IN THOSE CALM SHADOWS.

All loved thee. I, a dweller in the towns,
Used to coarse faces, common souls, and worn
And fretted with inclement Fortune's frown,
A weary man, love-famished, and forlorn,
How could I choose, but own thee sweetest, best,
And give my poor, sad heart up like the rest?

DO YOU REMEMBER?

Thomas Westwood.

Do you remember how we used to pace
Under the lindens, by the garden wall?
It was a homely but secluded place,
Safe sheltered from the prying gaze of all.
Deep in the azure distance, loomed the tall
Grand, heathery hills, and one bluff headland night
Rose, rain-crown'd against the golden sky. . . .
How lovingly around you seem'd to fall

Those linden-shadows-when you laid aside

Your hat, in the hot noon, and let the air

Kiss cheek and forehead, while I fetched you rare
Red-coated peaches, or the purple pride

Of grapes, still glowing with the autumn sun! . . .
And we sipped other fruit too, little one.

Thomas Westwood.

COME HOME.

COME home.

Would I could send my spirit o'er the deep,
Would I could wing it like a bird to thee,
To commune with thy thoughts, to fill thy sleep
With these unwearying words of melody,
Brother, come home.

Come home.

Come to the hearts that love thee, to the eyes

That beam in brightness but to gladden thine; Come where fond thoughts like holiest incense rise, Where cherish'd Memory rears her altar's shrine. Brother, come home.

Come home.

Come to the hearth-stone of thy earlier days, Come to the ark, like the o'erwearied dove, Come with the sunlight of thy heart's warm rays, Come to the fire-side circle of thy love.

Brother, come home.

Come home.

It is not home without thee; the lone seat

Is still unclaim'd where thou wert wont to be;

In every echo of returning feet

In vain we list for what should herald thee.

Brother, come home.