But now, thou art a thing enshrined
Within my inmost heart;

A part and portion of my mind,
Which cannot thence depart.

Deep woes may whelm, long years may roll,
Their course o'er me in vain;

But fix'd for ever in my Soul
Thine image shall remain.

"MONTHLY MAGAZINE."

THE CRUSADERS' SONG.

"Remember the Holy Sepulchre."

FORGET the land which gave ye birth;
Forget the womb that bore ye;
Forget each much-loved spot of earth;
Forget each dream of glory;
Forget the friends that by your side,

Stood firm as rocks unbroken;

Forget the late affianced Bride,
And every dear love-token;
Forget the hope that in each breast,

Glow'd like a smould'ring ember;

But still the Holy Sepulchre,

Remember! Oh remember!

Remember all the vows ye've sworn

At holy Becket's Altar;

Remember all the ills ye've borne,
And scorn'd to shrink or falter;

Remember every laurell'd field,

Which saw the Crescent waving; Remember when compell'd to yield, Uncounted numbers braving : Remember these, remember too The cause ye strive for, ever; The Cross! the Holy Sepulchre! Forget,-forget them never!

By Him who in that Sepulchre

Was laid in Death's cold keeping;
By Her who bore, who rear'd him, Her
Who by that Cross sat weeping;
By those, whose blood so oft has cried
Revenge for souls unshriven!

By those, whose sacred precepts guide
The path to yonder Heaven!
From youth to age, from morn to eve,
From Spring-tide to December;
The Holy Sepulchre of Christ,
Remember! Oh remember!

"MONTHLY MAGAZINE."

A SERENADE.

WAKE Lady! wake! the midnight Moon
Sails through the cloudless skies of June;
The Stars gaze sweetly on the stream,
Which in the brightness of their beam,
One sheet of glory lies;

The glow-worm lends it's little light,
And all that's beautiful and bright
Is shining on our world to-night,
Save thy bright eyes.

Wake Lady! wake! the nightingale
Tells to the Moon her love-lorn tale;
Now doth the brook that's hush'd by day,
As through the vale she winds her way,
In murmurs sweet rejoice;

The leaves, by the soft night-wind stirr'd,
Are whispering many a gentle word,
And all Earth's sweetest sounds are heard,
Save thy sweet voice.

Wake Lady! wake! thy lover waits,
Thy steed stands saddled at the gates;
Here is a garment rich and rare,
To wrap thee from the cold night-air;
Th' appointed hour is flown.

Danger and doubt have vanish'd quite,
Our way before lies clear and right,
And all is ready for the flight,
Save thou alone!

Wake Lady! wake! I have a wreath
Thy broad fair brow should rise beneath;
I have a ring that must not shine
On any finger, Love! but thine;
I've kept my plighted vow;
Beneath thy casement here I stand,
To lead thee by thine own white hand,
Far from this dull and captive strand,
But where art thou?

Wake Lady! wake! She wakes! she wakes! Through the green mead her course she takes; And now her lover's arms enfold

A prize more precious far than gold,

Blushing like morning's ray;

Now mount thy palfrey, Maiden kind!
Nor
pause to cast one look behind,
But swifter than the viewless wind,

Away! away!

"MONTHLY MAGAZINE."

SIMILITUDES.

WHAT can Love be liken'd to?
To the glittering, fleeting dew;
To Heaven's bright, but fading bow;
To the white, but melting snow;
To fleeting sounds, and viewless air;
To all that's sweet, and false, and fair.

Whereto can we liken Hope?

To the arch of Heaven's wide cope,
Where birds sing sweetly, but are flying;
Where days shine brightly, but are dying;
So near, that we behold it ever;
So far that we shall reach it never.

What can Beauty's semblance boast?
The rose resembles her the most,
For that's the sweetest among flowers,
The brightest gem in Flora's bowers;
And all it's sweetness soon is past,

And all it's brightness fades at last.

And what are Dreams, that light night's gloom? Doves that, like Noah's, go and come,

To teach the Soul this orb of clay

Shall not it's prison be for aye;

That Time's dark waves shall soon subside,

And brighter worlds spread far and wide.