I heard it wandering thro' the silver air,
As if some sylph had witch'd the stringed shell
Of woods and lonely fountains:--and the birds
That sang in the blue glow of heaven, the trees
That whisper'd like a timid maiden's lips,
The bees that kiss'd their bride-flow'rs into sleep,
All breath'd the spell of that enchanting lay!

Whence came it now? perchance from yonder dell,
O'er which the skies, in sunny beauty fix'd,
Their sapphire mantle hang. Its Eden home
Is in some beauteous place where faces beam
In loveliness and joy! To hail the morn,
The infant pours it from his rosy mouth,
Ere, o'er the fields, with blissful heart he roams,
To watch the syren lark, or mark the sun
Surround with golden light the rainbow clouds.

That music-lay awak'd within my heart
Thoughts, that had wept themselves to death, like clouds
In summer hours.--It brought before mine eyes
The haunts so often worshipped, the forms
Revealing heav'n and holiness in vain.
Alas, sweet lay, the freshness of the heart
Is wasted, like an unfed stream, away;
And dreams of Home, by Fancy treasurd up,
Remain as wrecks around the tomb of Being!

REGINALD AUGUSTINE.
_Deal_.