e.
O winsome aye was his face, Mother,
And tender his bright blue eye;
But his beauty and manly grace, Mother,
Beneath the dark earth do lie.

II.

They tell me that I am young, Mother,
That joy will return once more;
But sorrow my heart has wrung, Mother,
And I feel the wound full sore.
The tree at the root frost-bitten
Will flourish never again,
And the woe that my life hath smitten
Hath frozen each inmost vein.

III.

Whene'er the moon's shining clear, Mother,
I think o' my lover that's gone;
Heaven seem'd to draw very near, Mother,
As above us in glory it shone.
Ah! whither hath fled all my gladness?
Ah! would from life I could fly!
That laying me down in my sadness
I might kiss thee, my Mother, and die!

AN APRIL SQUALL.

Breathless is the deep blue sky;
Breathless doth the blue sea lie;
And scarcely can my heart believe,
'Neath such a sky, on such a wave,
That Heaven can frown and billows rave,
Or Beauty so divine deceive.

Softly sail we with the tide;
Silently our bark doth glide;
Above our heads no clouds appear:
Only in the West afar
A dark spot, like a baneful star,
Doth herald tempests dark and drear.

And now the wind is heard to sigh;
The waters heave unquietly;
The Heaven above is darkly scowling;
Down with the sail! They come, they come!
Loos'd from the depths of their wintry home,
The wild fiends of the storm are howling.

Hold tight, and tug at the straining oar,
For the wind is rising more and more:
Row like a man through the dashing brine!
Row on!--already the squall is past:
No more the sky is overcast;
Again the sun doth brightly shine.

Oh! higher far is the well-earn'd bliss
Of quiet after a storm like this
Than all the joys of selfish ease:
'Tis thus I would row o'er the sea of Life,
Thus force my way through the roar and strife,
And win repose by toils like these.

BEDFORDSHIRE BALLAD.--I.

THE TWO MAIDENS.

[The following Verses were written for a country Penny Reading].

Two Bedfordshire maidens in one village dwelt;
Side by side in their Church every Sunday they knelt;
They were not very pretty and not very plain;
And their names were Eliza and Emily Jane.

Now Carpenter Smith was young, steady and still,
And wherever he went, worked and played with a will:
To bed he went early, and early