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BY GRENVILLE MELLEN.
Napoleon, when in St Helena, beheld a bust of his son, and wept
LONG on the Parian bust he gazed,
And his pallid lips moved not;
But when his deep cold eye he raised,
His glory was forgot;
And the heated tears came down like rain,
He who had tearless rode the storm
Of human agony,
And with ambition wild and warm,
Sailed on a bloody sea,
He bent before the infant head,
And wept as a mother weeps her dead '-.
The roar of all the world had passed—
On a sounding rock alone,
An exile, to the earth he cast
His gathered glories down!
And nature saw her time of power-
The mighty bowed before a flower,
Alone before that chiseled brow,
Flit by, like hated phantoms now,
And holier visions rise
The empire of the heart unveils,
And lo! that crownless creature wails
The golden days whose suns went down
Lighting with dim but cold renown
Oh! had the monarch to the wind
And to the victory of mind
Had his warrior footsteps rung,
What then were desert rocks and seas,
FROM A BACHELOR'S PRIVATE JOURNAL
To one whom Destiny decrees
Such fadeless fame!
Oh! had the tyrant cast his crown
What though the pomp of life had flown,
Then had thy speaking bust, brave boy!
FROM A BACHELOR'S PRIVATE JOURNAL.
SWEET Mary, I have never breathed
Though round my heart a serpent wreathed,
Once more the pulse of Nature glows
And is there none with me to share
LINES, BY A LADY
Ah no! the cradled flowers may wake,
Go-ere the painted toys of youth
Are crushed beneath the tread of years;
Go-for I will not bid thee weep,
Too soon my sorrows will be thine, And evening's troubled air shall sweep The incense from the broken shrine.
If Heaven can hear the dying tone
0. W. H
Written by a Lady, a few days before her death.
That beat against my breast,
Rage on-thou may'st destroy this form,
And lay it low at rest;
But still the spirit that now brooks
LINES, BY A LADY.
Thy tempest raging high,
Undaunted on its fury looks
With steadfast eye.
I said to Penury's meagre train,
I said to cold Neglect and Scorn,
You may pursue me, till my form
And being are forgot:
Yet still the spirit which you see,
Its high-born smiles.
I said to Friendship's menaced blow
Thou canst but add one bitter wo
Yet still the spirit that sustains
This last severe distress,
Shall smile upon its keenest pains,