A MEMORY BY " Ich trage im Herzeii viel Scliltingeii, Und dicli, Geliebte mein."' — lleUw. TORONTO : LoTELL Brothers, Printers, Victoria Hall, Meli: ^a St. July, 1874. Ck»f V,,,, Ceiwo.'--^ J""^ A MEMORY BY . or. o. •• Ich trage im Herzen viel Schlangen, Und dich, Geliebte mein." — Heine. TOBONTO : LoVBLL BftoTBEBs, Pbintebs, Victobia Hall, Melinda St> _ 1.-11 • » J^- ♦> ^^ July, 1874. t^ ^ 69566 A MEMORY. By E. a. C. 'Ich trage im Herzen viel Schlangen, Und dich, Geliebte meiu."— Heine. L The water-lilies gleam them fair, In the black ooze their roots I see If pulseless thou wert lying there, - Dost think that she would weep for thee The weeping of a single tear ? No gleam of tears the proud eyes know— The proud lips meet with icy press, Keeping the whisper'd words so low The dead alone may hear their hiss Thou hadst thy warning : be it so I Dream, that darkens Hope's eclipse ! It was our bridal prime, methought — Day purpled into Night — our lips Each other in the darkness sought, And meeting silently were press'd In one long clasp, that clung, and drew Soul into soul ! If false or true, 1 heeded not — I only knew Thou wert all mine in that unrest That held me with its vampire spell, Till fled the faithless dream away — And on my heart the dead hope fell As falls upon a corpse the clay ! And through the night, and through the day, Ever it came, the voice that said With ceaseless mock — it better were, Fool, for thee, that thou wert dead. Than live to fix thy iove on her ! IIL Around the broad pine-belted bills The pale cloud-phantonas come and go • The Night's fast deepening shadow fills The silence of the woods below. The wide mere glimmers far away, Betwixt its dark isles' plumed tops— On its far edge, with waning ray, The moon's red crescent drops' and drops. The outlines of the Abbey wall, Gable and turret, grey and sere, Across the blue-starred irids fall That fringe afar the lonely mere. I linger by the sculptured gate. Now tasseU'd thick with odorous spray, Beside the moss-grown fount where late ' She stood within the dymg day— . And o'er the darkening waters threw The magic of her voice— whose tone Comes back no more— or comes anew In Memory's mocking dreams alone. The boat is loosen'd from the land : With harsh clang sounds the signal bell- And so, we take each others hand, And say our cold farewell ! n?onth of tender memories, Liv'st thou in one heart, or in two ? 1 look into her cruel eyes, And murmur ** would I knew. Y. She sang a little German song- Du bist wie eine Blume — My heart responded, all along. Du bist, ja, eine Blume I Now she is gone— but though, no more, Our hearts exchange their greeting — My own keeps ever, o'er and o'er, Those old fond words repeating : Du bist wie eine Blume ! Du bist wie eine Blume ! 5* ^?7I^?^ perhaps be unnecessary to remind the English reader that the words ein* Blume are dissyUables.] YI. The tumbled rocks lie thick between The mountains grey and the forest green, Where we two wander'd, long ago — We sat upon an old grey stone, And saw the dropping moon go down Among the pointed pines below. The wind, with forest odours fraught, Across my lips' mute longing brought The tresses of your loosen'd hair — Vour voice it took a softer tone — Your hand lay lightly on my own, And lingered for a moment there. So endeth our poor dream, you said — The moon has dropt, the day is dead. The cold gleam of the stars alone. Is left us now I Then silence fell Again upon our hearts — ^and well Mine knew its one great hope was gone ! YIL Dost thou rcint-inl)er Jiow I gave to tJiee A little flower on that tar-oft' shore AVhere the wild Daiiuhe dashes evermore Tarough its cleft chasm to the distant sea. And how, as we returned at eventide Through the cool woods, with our companions I missed the flower— and said, Cruel, say, That which I gave thee, hast thou cast aside ? And how with low quick whisper you replied Non, je lai garde !_A11 the go\len sky, The rustling pine-houghs and the reeling ground, And all my heart within me, then went round In one wild dance and thr'M of ecstasy ! Through its cleft rocks the river rushes on— The pine woods darken to the twilight still- But where art thou-and where the wondrous thrill That fiird my heart in those old days agone !