FOUR SONGS. BY B. C. I. SONG OF THE MARINER'S WIFE. THY father is far away, child, Thy father is on the sea, The mate of the waves and the tempest wild: He flattered and won my heart, dear, Yet nothing could keep him (nor love nor fear) Away from the faithless sea. He was born on the roaring waves, boy, Beneath an Atlantic sky, And he vowed, whate’er happened (or grief or joy) That he on the sea would die. Yet, let's still sing a low sad song, child, A prayer to calm the sea,— A wish he may 'scape from the tempest wild, Н II. THE HUSBAND'S SONG. [For a Birth-day in November-Set to music by M. Moscheles.] LET thy friends of summer sing I will in my heart remember What, though May in beauty blows,— One who makes my heart remember, Month of storms and sullen showers! Music, sweeter than the spheres, Thoughts that shine through happy tears! Ever love my Love's November! IV. GAIETE DU CŒUR. THEY tell me that love is a folly; Yet, cousin, I ne'er complain. I dance with the Spring when she calleth; Time's evils for ever are flying Away, like the swift-winged rack; The mind, it should gladden the seasons, Sweet cousin, I ne'er complain. B. C. LETTERS FROM HOME. BY DELTA. 'Tis sweet, unutterably sweet, Of those whom once 'twas bliss to meet, Of mighty ocean, and the green Of hill and plain outstretched between! Then, like a lava tide, the past Comes o'er the spirit,-by-past things, And half-forgotten thoughts, which cast Gleams, far too beautiful to last, Of heavenly radiance from their wings; And lo! in hues more bright than truth, Start visioned forth the scenes of youth. The sheep-clad hills, where boyhood strode The wild flowers down; the shady wood, Of timid ring-doves the abode; The winding river bright and broad; The bleak moor's swampy solitude; |