But the huts of the hamlet lie still and deep, And the hills o'er their quiet a vigil keep : Say what have ye found in the peasant's cot, Since last ye parted from that sweet spot?—

"A change we have found there-and many a change!

Faces and footsteps, and all things strange!
Gone are the heads of the silvery hair,

And the young that were have a brow of care,
And the place is hush'd where the children play'd-
Naught looks the same, save the nest we made!"

Sad is your tale of the beautiful earth,
Birds that o'ersweep it in power and mirth!
Yet through the wastes of the trackless air
Ye have a guide, and shall we despair?
Ye over desert and deep have pass'd-
So may we reach our bright home at last!

THE GRAVES OF A HOUSEHOLD.

THEY grew in beauty side by side,

They fill'd one home with glee ;Their graves are sever'd far and wide, By mount, and stream, and sea.

The same fond mother bent at night
O'er each fair sleeping brow:
She had each folded flower in sight-
Where are those dreamers now?

One, midst the forest of the West,
By a dark stream is laid-
The Indian knows his place of rest,
Far in the cedar-shade.

The sea, the blue lone sea, hath one-
He lies where pearls lie deep;
He was the loved of all, yet none
O'er his low bed may weep.

One sleeps where southern vines are drest
Above the noble slain :

He wrapt his colours round his breast
On a blood-red field of Spain.

And one-o'er her the myrtle showers
Its leaves, by soft winds fann'd;
She faded 'midst Italian flowers-
The last of that bright band.

And parted thus they rest, who play'd Beneath the same green tree; Whose voices mingled as they pray'd Around one parent knee !

They that with smiles lit up the hall,
And cheer'd with song the hearth!-
Alas, for love! if thou wert all,
And naught beyond, O Earth!

MOZART'S REQUIEM.

[A short time before the death of Mozart, a stranger of remarkable appearance, and dressed in deep mourning, called at his house, and requested him to prepare a requiem, in his best style, for the funeral of a distinguished person. The sensitive imagination of the composer immediately seized upon the circumstance as an omen of his own fate; and the nervous anxiety with which he laboured to fulfil the task, had the effect of realising his impression. He died within a few days after completing this magnificent piece of music, which was performed at his interment.]

"These birds of Paradise but long to flee

Back to their native mansion."

"Prophecy of Dante."

A REQUIEM!-and for whom?

For beauty in its bloom?

For valour fallen-a broken rose or sword?
A dirge for king or chief,

With pomp of stately grief,

Banner, and torch, and waving plume deplored?

Not so-it is not so!

The warning voice I know,

From other worlds a strange mysterious tone; A solemn funeral air

It call'd me to prepare,

And my heart answer'd secretly-my own!

One more then, one more strain,
In links of joy and pain,

Mighty the troubled spirit to enthrall!
And let me breathe my dower
Of passion and of power

Full into that deep lay-the last of all!

The last!-and I must go

From this bright world below,

This realm of sunshine, ringing with sweet sound! Must leave its festal skies,

With all their melodies,

That ever in my breast glad echoes found!