THE LOVERS. BY THE LADY E. S. WORTLEY. THE world lies hushed around them now, All things most mournful and most fair The setting sun is reddening there, And flowers and ruins clothe the ground! Oh, love! o'er nature's dreariest wild Thou, thou canst shed a charm divine, And thou her loveliest scenes canst gild, And bid them with new brightness shine. And, oh! how beautious must thou make Steep'd in thy purple light of bliss! The mountains and the waters wear To speak of shadows, change, and night! And ruins such as still are found On fair Italia's golden plains, Cumber the flower-enamell'd ground, All darken'd o'er by Time's dull stains. But what are these, young Love, to thee? Immortal, oh! immortal one! Thou feel'st thine own eternity, And smilest at yonder sinking sun! And though Decay and Change may frown And thou canst light the dusk earth, Love! Thou-thou art reigning brightly there, The angel of that passionate air- SONNET. BY THE REV. CHARLES ALFORD. FRIEND of my heart, here in my close I wait thy coming; slender clematis, green bower And the rank ivied vine, with late primroses, On the rude trunk, native in earth below, Has spread the pebbled floor with fickle shade. |