MIDNIGHT.

Orr in the stilly night,

Ere slumber's chain has bound me,

Fond Mem'ry brings the light

Of other days around me.

MOORE.

Ir is the hour whose tranquil pow'r breathes holiness

and peace,

And bids the aching heart be still, its warring passions

cease;

The time is fraught with solemn thought, and mem'ry fondly turns

To vanish'd scenes of other days, for which the heart still yearns.

As dew-drops that unmark'd descend upon the moonlit earth,

Refreshing as they fall the land from whence they have their birth;

E'en so remembrance of the past serenes my weary breast,

And musing on the past alone can give my spirit rest.

What tho' for me life's falling tree is yet in all its

bloom,

And few would deem that grief or care my spirit could consume

The deadly blight of sorrow's night, mine early morn hath known,

And I can tell of love estranged, and early friendships flown.

The clouds that roll before the moon, and dim its placid light,

Will pass away, and leave its orb more beautiful and bright;

But bitter thoughts that at this hour come back upon the mind,

May vanish hence, but still will leave their darksome shade behind.

To hopes that threw a splendid hue on whatsoever they fell,

My heart hath long been taught to breathe a wild and fond farewell,

As flowers that fling in early spring their fragrance to the gale,

But ere the rosy summer comes, their balmy sweets exhale.

PRESENTED

WITH MRS. HEMANS' "Records of Woman."

ΤΟ

TO THEE, this little volume-deeply fraught
With all of woman's life that most endears,
The holiness of love by sorrow taught,

As brightly on the path of life appears,
While onward journeying thro' its bitter tears--
I give: rejoiced if unto thee a spring
It prove, which on the dreary desert cheers;
But unto thee, while joy is on the wing
And gladness all around, unheeded I may sing.

But from the flow'r the perfume will depart, The dew-drop vanish from the earth away, And sorrow's clouds will darken the young heart, And joyful hopes to nothingness decay— While thou, perchance, life's anguish to allay, To other sources wilt for comfort turnThine humbled heart to strengthen and to stay; And tho' for purer fountains thou wilt yearn, E'en this may soothe thee then, and thou may'st from it learn

How, by the depth of pure affection taught,
(In Prince's hall or Peasant's cot the same)
Hath Woman's gentle heart a firmness caught,
Which not the terrors e'en of death could tame,
An upborne spirit in a wasted frame !

And tho' Death spread his pallid heralds there Yet the deep tenderness of Love could claim

What well might seem existence in despair, And triumph in its might o'er anguish, grief, and care. And when beneath affliction's power bowed, In mem❜ry's glass the pleasant scenes pass by, As in the morning time a gilded cloud

Sails lonely thro' the everlasting sky; When thou wilt cease on false hopes to rely, And find life's joys before thy touch decay, And earthly pleasures like a meteor fly

Oh, turn thine eyes to Heaven's unclouded day, Where sorrow may not be, and tears are wiped away!

SERENADE.

"How silver sweet are lovers tones at nightLike softest music to attending ears."

SHAKSPEARE.

I KNOW thy step-thy fairy form
Glides softly o'er the ground-
And echo fears to breathe again
The magic of the sound;

Then come to me-I would but gaze
One minute on that face,
And mem❜ry will for years rejoice
That minute to retrace.

I know thy glance-its cheerful ray
Bespeaks a heart at rest;

And all on whom its gladness lights

Are surely of the blest.

Then smile on me, and tho' my heart

Were overcast with gloom,

One look of thine would all beguile,
And joy my soul illume.