Not for the brightest Spanish maid, shall Diez' vow be riven,
So if we meet no more on earth, I will be thine in heaven.

Oh, go not yet, my godlike love, stay but a moment more
And Zenia's step shall lead thee on, to Hayna's golden shore,
No white man's foot has ever trod, the vale that slumbers there,
Or forced the gold bird from its nest, or Gato from his lair;
But cradled round by giant hills, lies many a golden mine,
And all the treasure they contain, shall be my Diez thine,
And all my tribe will be thy friends, our warrior chief thy guard,
With Zenia's breast thy faithful shield, thy love her sweet reward.

The valley's won, the friends are true, revealed the golden tide.
And Diez for Hispania's shore, quits not his Indian bride.

D.A.H.

* * * * *


RECENT VISIT TO POMPEII.

_(For the Mirror.)_

For the following details respecting a city, accounts of which,
(although so many are already before the public,) are always
interesting, I am indebted to the oral communication of a friend
which I immediately committed to paper.

M.L.B.