That mouldering chest was noticed; and 'twas said By one as young, as thoughtless as Genevra, Why not remove it from its lurking place?' "Twas done as soon as said; but on the way It burst, it fell; and lo, a skeleton, With here and there a pearl, an emerald stone, There then had she found a grave ! Within that chest had she concealed herself, Fluttering with joy, the happiest of the happy; When a spring lock, that lay in ambush there, Fastened her down for ever! THE WISH. Mine be a cot beside the hill; A bee-hive's hum shall soothe my ear; The swallow oft, beneath my thatch, And share my meal, a welcome guest. Around my ivied porch snall spring, Each fragrant flower that drinks the dew; And Lucy at her peals shall sing, In russet gown and apron blue. The village-church among the trees, Where first our marriage vows were given, With merry peals shall swell the breeze, And point with taper spire to heaven. MOORE. AWAKENED CONSCIENCE. CHEERED by this hope she bends her thither;- That fluttered round the jasmine stems, To the fair child, who fearless sat, But hark! the vesper-call to prayer, Is rising sweetly on the air, From SYRIA's thousand minarets! The boy has started from the bed Of flowers, where he had laid his head, And down upon the fragrant sod Kneels, with his forehead to the south, Lisping the eternal name of God Like a stray babe of Paradise, Just lighted on that flowery plain, And seeking for its home again! Oh 'twas a sight-that Heaven-that child— A scene, which might have well beguiled For glories lost and peace gone by! And how felt he, the wretched Man, Reclining there,-while memory ran O'er many a year of guilt and strife, Flew o'er the dark flood of his life, Nor found one sunny resting-place, Nor brought him back one branch of grace! "There was a time," he said in mild Heart-humbled tones, "thou blessed child, "When young and haply pure as thou, "I looked and prayed like thee—but now”He hung his head,-each nobler aim, And hope, and feeling, which had slept, From boyhood's hour, that instant came Fresh o'er him, and he wept-he wept! Blest tears of soul-felt penitence! Of guiltless joy that guilt can know |