The bow of the covenant brightens the storm,
When its dark wings are shading the brow of the morn;
But thou art uncradled by vapour or cloud,
Thy glory's unshaded by night's sable shroud.

Oh whence is thy splendour, fair luminous bow?
From light's golden chalice thy radiance must flow;
Thou look'st from the throne of thy beauty above
On this desolate earth, like the spirit of love!

THE SUGAR BIRD.[C]

Thou splendid child of southern skies!
Thy brilliant plumes and graceful form
Are not so precious in mine eyes
As those gray heralds of the morn,
Which in my own beloved land
Welcome the azure car of spring,
When budding flowers and leaves expand
On hawthorn boughs, and sweetly sing.

But thou art suited to the clime,
The golden clime, that gave thee birth;
Where beauty reigns o'er scenes sublime,
And fadeless verdure decks the earth;
Where nature faints beneath the blaze
Of her own gorgeous crown of light,
And exiled eyes, with aching gaze,
Sigh for the softer shades of night,

That memory to their dreams may bring
Past scenes, to cheer their sleeping eye,
The dark green woods where linnets sing,
And echo wafts the faint reply.
Ah, from those voiceless birds that glow,
Like living gems 'mid blossoms rare,
The captive turns in sullen woe
To climes more dear and scenes less fair!

FOOTNOTES:

[Footnote C: This elegant bird is a native of Van Dieman's land.]

THE DREAM.

Methought last night I saw thee lowly laid,
Thy pallid cheek yet paler, on the bier;
And scattered round thee many a lovely braid
Of flowers, the brightest of the closing year;
Whilst on thy lips the placid smile that played,
Proved thy soul's exit to a happier sphere,
In silent eloquence reproaching those
Who watched in agony thy last repose.

A pensive, wandering, melancholy light
The moon's pale radiance on thy features cast,
Which, through the awful stillness of the night,
Gleamed like some lovely vision of the past,
Recalling hopes once beautiful and bright,
Now, like that struggling beam, receding fast,
Which o'er the scene a softening glory shed,
And kissed the brow of the unconscious dead.

Yes--it was thou!--and we were doomed to part,
Never in this wide world to meet again.
The blow that levelled thee was in my heart,
And thrilled my breast with more than mortal pain.
Despair forbade the gathering tears to start;
But soon the gushing torrents fell like rain