ire
Gleams through quick tears, thrilled by thy lay, doth lean
Her graceful head upon her stern lord's breast,
Like an o'erwearied child, whom music lulls to rest?

Play my proud minstrel! strike the chords again!
Lo! Victory crowns at last thy heavenly skill!
For Pluto turns relenting to the strain--
He waves his hand--he speaks his awful will!
My glorious Greek! lead on; but ah! _still_ lend
Thy soul to thy sweet lyre, lest yet thou lose thy friend!

Think not of me! Think rather of the time,
When moved by thy resistless melody,
To the strange magic of a song sublime,
Thy argo grandly glided to the sea!
And in the majesty Minerva gave,
The graceful galley swept, with joy, the sounding wave!

Or see, in Fancy's dream, thy Thracian trees,
Their proud heads bent submissive to the sound,
Swayed by a tuneful and enchanted breeze,
March to slow music o'er th' astonished ground--
Grove after grove descending from the hills,
While round thee weave their dance the glad, harmonious rills.

Think not of me! Ha! by thy mighty sire,
My lord, my king! recall the dread behest!
Turn not--ah! turn not back those eyes of fire!
Oh! lost, forever lost! undone! unblest!
I faint, I die!--the serpent's fang once more
Is here!--nay, grieve not thus! Life but _not Love_ is o'er!

THE VOICE OF THE NIGHT WIND.

BY E. CURTISS HINE, U. S. N.

When the day-king is descending
On the blue hill's breast to lie,
And some spirit-artist blending
On the flushed and bending sky
All the rainbow's hues, I listen
To the breeze, while in my eye
Tears of bitter anguish glisten,
As I think of days gone by.

Change, relentless change is lighting
On the brow of young and fair,
And with iron hand is writing
Tales of grief and sorrow there.
On life's journey friends have faltered,
And beside its pathway lie,
But that breeze, with voice unaltered,
Sings as in the days gone by.

Sings old songs to soothe the anguish
Of a heart whose hopes are flown;
Cheering one condemned to languish
In this weary world alone;
Tells old tales of loved ones o'er me,
Dearest ones, remembered well,
That have passed away before me,
In a brighter land to dwell.

MAJ