aks!
Whereon my listening soul
Hath trembled to the roll
Of thunders that Jove wreaks--
And calm Minerva's oracles hath heard
All more than now unstirred!

Adieu, ye beds of bloom!
No more shall zephyr bring
To me, upon his wing,
Your loveliest perfume;
No more upon your pure, immortal dyes,
Shall rest my happy eyes.

I pass by; at thy foot,
O, mount of my delight!
Ere yet from out thy sight,
I drop my voiceless lute:
It is in vain to strive to carry hence
Its olden eloquence.

Your sacred groves no more
My singing shall prolong,
With echoes of my song,
Doubling it o'er and o'er.
Haunt of the muses, lost to wistful eyes,
What dreams of thee shall rise!

Rise but to be dispelled--
For here where I am cast,
Such visions may not last,
By sterner fancies quelled:
Relentless Nemesis my doom hath sent--
This cruel banishment!

LOST AT SEA.

A fleet set sail upon a summer sea:
'Tis now so long ago,
I look no more to see my ships come home;
But in that fleet sailed all 'twas dear to me.

Ships never bore such precious freight as these,
Please God, to any woe.
His world is wide, and they may ride the foam,
Secure from danger, in some unknown seas.

But they have left me bankrupt on life's 'change;
And daily I bestow
Regretful tears upon the blank account,
And with myself my losses rearrange.

Oh, mystic wind of fate, dost hold my dower
Where I may never know?
Of all my treasure ventured what amount
Will the sea send me in my parting hour!

'TWAS JUNE, NOT I.

"Come out into the garden, Maud;"
In whispered tones young Percy said:
He but repeated what he'd read
That afternoon, with soft applaud:
A snatch, which for my same name's sake,
He caught, out of the sweet, soft song,
A lover for his love did make,
In half despite of some fond wrong:--
And more he quoted, just to show
How still the rhymes ran in his head,
With visions of the roses red
That on the poet's pen did grow.

The poet's spell was on our blood;
The spell of June was in the air;
We felt, more than we understood,
The charm of being young and fair.
Where eve