And like those waters rushing

Among the wooden piers,

A flood of thoughts came o'er me
That filled my eyes with tears.

How often, O, how often,

In the days that had gone by, I had stood on that bridge at midnight And gazed on that wave and sky!

How often, O, how often,

I had wished, that the ebbing tide Would bear me away on its bosom O'er the ocean wild and wide!

For my heart was hot and restless,
And my life was full of care,
And the burden laid upon me
Seemed greater than I could bear.

But now it has fallen from me,

It is buried in the sea;
And only the sorrow of others

Throws its shadow over me.

Yet whenever I cross the river

On its bridge with wooden piers, Like the odour of brine from the ocean Comes the thought of other years,

And I think how many thousands
Of care-encumbered men,

Each bearing his burden of sorrow,
Have crossed the bridge since then.

I see the long procession

Still passing to and fro,

The young heart hot and restless,
And the old subdued and slow!

And for ever, and for ever,

As long as the river flows,
As long as the heart has passions,
As long as life has woes;

The moon, and its broken reflection,

And its shadows shall appear,

As the symbol of love in heaven,

And its wavering image here.

1

CURFEW.

I.

SOLEMNLY, mournfully,
Dealing its dole,

The Curfew Bell

Is beginning to toll.

Cover the embers,

And put out the light,

Toil comes with the morning,
And rest with the night.

Dark grow the windows,
And quenched is the fire;
Sound fades into silence,-
All footsteps retire.

No voice in the chambers,

No sound in the hall !
Sleep and oblivion

Reign over all!

II.

The book is completed,

And closed, like the day; And the hand that has written it Lays it away.

Dim grow its fancies,

Forgotten they lie;

Like coals in the ashes,
They darken and die.

Song sinks into silence,
The story is told,

The windows are darkened,

The hearthstone is cold.

Darker and darker

The black shadows fall; Sleep and oblivion

Reign over all.

THE WARDEN OF THE CINQUE PORTS.

[The great Duke of Wellington held the office of Warden of the Cinque Ports, and died at his official residence, Walmer Castle, Kent, after a few hours' illness, on the 14th of September, 1852.]

A MIST was driving down the British Channel,-
The day was just begun;

And through the window-panes, on floor and panel,
Streamed the red autumn sun.

It glanced on glowing flag and rippling pennon,-
And the white sails of ships;

And, from the frowning rampart, the black cannon
Hailed it with feverish lips.

Sandwich and Romney, Hastings, Hythe and Dover, Were all alert that day,

To see the French war-steamers speeding over,

When the fog cleared away.

Sullen and silent, and like couchant lions,

Their cannon through the night,

Holding their breath, had watched in grim defiance The sea-coast opposite,