She saw him wither in his bloom,

Nor could the yield relief:

For, with a heart devoid of blame,

He liv'd to joy no more;
And now resolv'd, for wealth and fame,

To search fome foreign shore.

The night was come, the fatal night,

Replete with tender pain ;
Doom'd, in his native land, the light

Ne'er to behold again.

And now the penfive mourner ftray'd,

No gleam of hope he knew;
He went to bid his charming maid

A long, a lait adieu !

As o'er her form soft sorrow stole,

Her thoughts you might descry; It seem'd as if her spotless soul

Beam'd from her azure eye.

No more her cheek that glow express'd

Which health had once display'd, While, careless, o'er her lily breast

Her auburn treffes play'd.

Alas! she cry'd, and claspd his hand,

And press’d it to her heart;
And do the cruel Fates command ?

And must we, Albert, part ?

Wo

We must, o'erwhelm'd in grief, he said,

We must, Elweena dear!
But, ere I go, afflicted maid,

Accept my vow fincere.
Whene'er through foreign lands I roam,

Whatever change I see,
Still, turning to my native home,

My heart shall dwell with thee.

He said, and o'er Elweena's breast

The briny torrent fell;
A thousand times her hand he press’d,

And bade as oft farewell.

They part, and through the mournful grove

Her maids Elweena bore;
Each cast a ling'ring look of love,

Till they could view no more.

Now softly o'er the dewy plain

Night's dusky shadows stole;
While anguish, love, and cruel pain,

Oppress’d young Albert's foul.

His mother, gently on his breast

Reclin’d her drooping head ;
The weeping youth she fondly press’d,

And mutual forrows thed.

While, strangers to each peaceful smile,
They mourn'd their luckless fate,

M6

An

2

An aged pilgrim, spent with toil,

Approach'd the cottage-gate.

The mournful youth, in humble plight,

Address’d the rev'rend sage; Who ask'd a shelter for the night,

To rest his drooping age.

Full welcome to their humble shed,

The hospitable pair
With lib'ral hand the viands spread,

And bade the stranger Thare.

With pain he mark'd the eruel grief,

That prey'd on either heart ; Which (anxious to extend relief)

He begg’d them to impart.
With livid cheek, and tearful eye,

The penfive Albert rose,
And told, but, oh! with many a figh,

The story of his woes.

His life, his birth, his father's name,

His mother's tender care;
But, ftill more fad, the fatal flame

He bore Elweena fair.

The good old man with transport flew,

And press'd the youth, and smild; He cried, Support me, heavens ! I view

My long-loft wife and child !

'Twas

Twas on no diftant Indian shore

Thy father funk to rest;
But now returns with ample store,

To make his Albert bless'd.

And thou, dear partner of my soul,

Whom oft my fancy drew;
Nor time, nor absence, could controul-

The pangs I felt for you!
Then chase all sorrow from your breaft,

Secure from bitter strife;
Myself will footh to balmy reft

The ev'ning of your life.
He ceas'd; and to his constant fair

Enraptur'd Albert flew;
And left the long-divided pair,

To tell their joys anew.
The blissful news Elweena told,

And made her fire relent;
Nor more to Albert's paflion cold,

Nor more deny'd consent.

And when the azure-vested day

Dawn'd o'er the smiling land, In mutual bliss, ferenely gay, They join'd the nuptial band.

Miss H. FALCONAR.

SECT.

THE rifing fun's enlivening ray

Dispell’d the gloom of night, Each verdant field and flowery spray

With dew-drops twinkled bright.
The earliest of the feather'd throng,

As round all nature smild,
A woodlark tun'd his matin song,

In strains divinely wild.

O say, ye soft harmonious train,
Ye warblers of the

grove,
Who taught you thus to pour that ftrain,

Or tune your voice to love ?

The sweetest bird that e'er could fing,

Or flower that e'er could blow, Alike to heaven's eternal King

Their bloom and music owe.

To him, ye birds, attune your lays,

For they to him belong,
And let your music sound his praise
In one concordant song.

Miss M. FALCONAR,

SECT