THE BRIDGE OF SIGHS

ONE more Unfortunate
Weary of breath,
Rashly importunate,
Gone to her death!

Take her up tenderly,
Lift her with care;
Fashion'd so slenderly,
Young, and so fair!

Look at her garments
Clinging like cerements;
Whilst the wave constantly
Drips from her clothing;
Take her up instantly,
Loving, not loathing.

Touch her not 'scornfully;
Think of her mournfully,
Gently and humanly;
Not of the stains of her -
All that remains of her
Now is pure womanly.

Make no deep scrutiny
Into her mutiny

Rash and undutiful :

Past all dishonour,

Death has left on her

Only the beautiful.

Still, for all slips of hers,

One of Eve's family

Wipe those poor lips of hers

Oozing so clammily.

Loop up her tresses

Escaped from the comb,
Her fair auburn tresses;

Whilst wonderment guesses
Where was her home?

Who was her father?
Who was her mother?

Had she a sister?

Had she a brother?

Or was there a dearer one

Still, and a nearer one

Yet, than all other?

Alas! for the rarity
Of Christian charity
Under the sun!
Oh! it was pitiful!
Near a whole city full,
Home she had none.

Sisterly, brotherly,
Fatherly, motherly

Feelings had changed:
Love, by harsh evidence,
Thrown from its eminence;

Even God's providence

Seeming estranged.

Where the lamps quiver

So far in the river,

With many a light

From window and casement,

From garret to basement,

She stood, with amazement,

Houseless by night.

The bleak wind of March

Made her tremble and shiver

But not the dark arch,
Or the black flowing river:
Mad from life's history,
Glad to death's mystery

Swift to be hurl'd -
Any where, any where
Out of the world!

In she plunged boldly,
No matter how coldly

PAST AND PRESENT

I REMEMBER, I remember
The house where I was born,
The little window where the sun
Came peeping in at morn;

He never came a wink too soon
Nor brought too long a day;
But now, I often wish the night
Had borne my breath away.

I remember, I remember
The roses, red and white,
The violets, and the lily-cups -
Those flowers made of light!
The lilacs where the robin built,
And where my brother set

The laburnum on his birth-day, —
The tree is living yet!

I remember, I remember

Where I was used to swing,

And thought the air must rush as fresh

To swallows on the wing;

My spirit flew in feathers then

That is so heavy now,

And summer pools could hardly cool

The fever on my brow.

I remember, I remember

The fir trees dark and high;

I used to think their slender tops

Were close against the sky:

It was a childish ignorance,

But now 't is little joy

To know I'm farther off from Heaven Than when I was a boy.

BY OBADIAH-BIND-THEIR-KINGS-IN-CHAINS-AND-THEIR

NOBLES-WITH-LINKS-OF-IRON, SERGEANT IN IRETON'S

REGIMENT

OH! wherefore come ye forth in triumph from the north, With your hands, and your feet, and your raiment all red? And wherefore doth your rout send forth a joyous shout? And whence be the grapes of the wine-press that ye tread?

Oh! evil was the root, and bitter was the fruit,

And crimson was the juice of the vintage that we trod;
For we trampled on the throng of the haughty and the strong,
Who sate in the high places and slew the saints of God.

It was about the noon of a glorious day of June,
That we saw their banners dance and their cuirasses shine,
And the man of blood was there, with his long essenced hair,
And Astley, and Sir Marmaduke, and Rupert of the Rhine.

Like a servant of the Lord, with his bible and his sword,
The general rode along us to form us for the fight;
When a murmuring sound broke out, and swell'd into a
shout

Among the godless horsemen upon the tyrant's right.

And hark! like the roar of the billows on the shore,
The cry of battle rises along their charging line:

For God! for the cause! for the Church! for the laws !
For Charles, king of England, and Rupert of the Rhine!

The furious German comes, with his clarions and his drums, His bravoes of Alsatia and pages of Whitehall;

They are bursting on our flanks! Grasp your pikes! Close your ranks!

For Rupert never comes, but to conquer or to fall