He clasp'd her close and groan'd farewell,
In one another's arms they fell;

They leapt adown the craggy side,
In one another's arms they died.

And side by side they there are laid,
The Christian youth and Moorish maid,
But never Cross was planted there,
To mark the victims of despair.

Yet every Murcian maid can tell
Where Laila lies who lov'd so well,
And every youth who passes there,
Says for Manuel's soul a prayer.

DESTINY.

By JOSEPH COTTLE.

I.

Is it for a few short hours

Of fancied joys, but real pain, That man was dealt his lofty powers, And made to drag affliction's chain ? Man who with a daring eye

Can count the etherial worlds of fire, Or, gazing at Earth's tempests, cry, I heed ye not?-can then retire To his own mind, and there converse With himself, an universe?

II.

Vain and impotent conceit,

Which Vice may cherish, Virtue dread! A low and gentle whisper sweet Bids us raise our drooping head, Bids us prize our highest boast, A future hope, that friend to care, And respect ourselves the most

Of all in earth, and sea, and air; So shall we secure our high

And immortal destiny.

III.

Fair and tranquil is the scene,

The shadowy wood, the meadow gay; The azure sky, the ocean green; But these will quickly fade away: For like the sun, that in the morn Rises full and fair to view, Man with flattering hope is born,

And all is bright as all is new; But soon the fairy landscape flies, And the whirlwind sweeps the skies.

IV.

If life be but an April day,

Where pleasure at a distance sings, If manhood, and if youth display

But airy forms and shadowy things: Yet let us, whilst the clouds o'ercast Our prospect, think with rapture true, That if our joys a moment last,

Fleeting are our sorrows too; Joys and sorrows soon will lie, In oblivion silently.

V.

Why was consciousness bestow'd
Of the beautiful and chaste?

Why beside life's rugged road,

Fruit, to charm, but not to taste ? Why have feelings fired the breast Of purity and worth refined, By Fancy in her dreams carest, Which we may seek but never find ? Faith in silence casts her eye To man's future destiny.

VI.

Then let the storms of sorrow rave,
Let the lurid lightnings blaze,

Let Dismay her banners wave,

And few and sad be mortal days!

Soaring on Religion's pinion,

This shall chase misfortune's night;

And whilst we grope through earth's dominion,
Yield a pure and constant light.

Fill'd with transport we may cry,
Speed, oh speed our destiny!