I'll wait for your return on England's shore,

And then we'll cross the deep and part no more.”

To-morrow both his soul's compassion drew

TO JULIA'S call, and CONSTANCE urged anew

That not to heed her now would be to bind

A load of pain for life upon his mind.

He went with UDOLPH-from his CONSTANCE went

Stifling, alas! a dark presentiment

Some ailment lurk'd, ev'n whilst she smiled, to mock

His fears of harm from yester-morning's shock.

Meanwhile a faithful page he singled out,

To watch at home, and follow straight his route,

If aught of threaten'd change her health should show:

-With UDOLPH then he reach'd the house of woe.

That winter's eve how darkly Nature's brow Scowl'd on the scenes it lights so lovely now! The tempest, raging o'er the realms of ice, Shook fragments from the rifted precipice; And whilst their falling echoed to the wind, The wolf's long howl in dismal discord join'd, While white yon water's foam was raised in clouds That whirl'd like spirits wailing in their shrouds : Without was Nature's elemental din

And beauty died, and friendship wept, within!

Sweet JULIA, though her fate was finish'd half, Still knew him-smiled on him with feeble laughAnd blest him, till she drew her latest sigh!

But lo! while UDOLPH's bursts of agony,

And age's tremulous wailings, round him rose,.T

What accents pierced him deeper yet than those!) 'Twas tidings-by his English messenger

Of CONSTANCE-brief and terrible they were.

She still was living when the page set out

From home, but whether now was left in doubt.
Poor JULIA! saw he then thy death's relief-I
Stunn'd into stupor more than wrung with grief

It was not strange; for in the human breast
Two master-passions cannot co-exist,

And that alarm which now usurp'd his brains
Shut out not only peace, but other pain.

JW A

'Twas fancying CONSTANCE underneath the shroud That cover'd JULIA made him first weep loud,

And tear himself away from them that wept. load

Fast hurrying homeward, night nor day he slept,

Till, launch'd at sea, he dreamt that his soul's saint

Clung to him on a bridge of ice, pale, faint,

O'er cataracts of blood. Awake, he bless'd
The shore; nor hope left utterly his breast,
Till reaching home, terrific omen! there
The straw-laid street preluded his despair-
The servant's look-the table that reveal'd

His letter sent to CONSTANCE last, still seal'd,
Though speech and hearing left him, told too clear

That he had now to suffer-not to fear.

He felt as if he ne'er should cease to feel

A wretch live-broken on misfortune's wheel:

Her death's cause he might make his peace with

Heaven,

Absolved from guilt, but never self-forgiven.

The ocean has its ebbings-so has grief:
'Twas vent to anguish, if 'twas not relief,
To lay his brow ev'n on her death-cold cheek.
Then first he heard her one kind sister speak:
She bade him, in the name of Heaven, forbear
With self-reproach to deepen his despair:

""Twas blame," she said, "I shudder to relate,
But none of yours, that caused our darling's fate;
Her mother (must I call her such?) foresaw,
Should CONSTANCE leave the land, she would with-

draw

Our House's charm against the world's neglect--The only gem that drew it some respect.

Hence, when you went, she came and vainly spoke To change her purpose-grew incensed, and broke