e winding from each convent porch;
And holy maids from Nonnenwerth,
In the pale moonlight all came forth;
Thy love, Roland, among the rest,
Her meek hands folded on her breast,
Her sad eyes turned to heaven, where thou
Once more shalt hear love's early vow,--
That vow, which led thee home again
From Roncevalles' bloody plain,--
That vow, that ne'er again was spoken
Till death the nun's drear oath had broken.
Down from each crumbling castle poured,
Of ruthless robber-knights, the horde,
Sweeping with clang and clamour by,
Like storm-cloud rattling through the sky:
Pageant so glorious ne'er, I ween,
On lonely river bank was seen.

So passed that night: but with the day
The vision melted all away;
And wrapped in sullen mist and rain,
The river bore us on again,
With heavy hearts and tearful eyes,
That answered well the weeping skies
Of autumn, which now hung o'er all
The scene their leaden, dropping pall,
Beneath whose dark gray veils, once more
We hailed our native Albion's shore,
Our pilgrimage of pleasure o'er.

LINES FOR MUSIC.

Good night! from music's softest spell
Go to thy dreams: and in thy slumbers,
Fairies, with magic harp and shell,
Sing o'er to thee thy own sweet numbers.

Good night! from Hope's intense desire
Go to thy dreams: and may to-morrow,
Love with the sun returning, fire
These evening mists of doubt and sorrow.

Good night! from hours of weary waking
I'll to my dreams: still in my sleep
To feel the spirit's restless aching,
And ev'n with eyelids closed, to weep.

SONNET.

Say thou not sadly, "never," and "no more,"
But from thy lips banish those falsest words;
While life remains that which was thine before
Again may be thine; in Time's storehouse lie
Days, hours, and moments, that have unknown hoards
Of joy, as well as sorrow: passing by,
Smiles, come with tears; therefore with hopeful eye
Look thou on dear things, though they turn away,
For thou and they, perchance, some future day
Shall meet again, and the gone bliss return;
For its departure then make thou no mourn,
But with stout heart bid what thou lov'st farewell;
That which the past hath given the future gives as well.

SONNET.

Though thou return unto the former things,
Fields, woods, and gardens, where thy feet have strayed
In other days, and not a bough, branch, blade
Of tree, or meadow, but the same appears
As when thou lovedst them in former years,
They shall