Dark gray their tint by nature given,
But which through smiles seemed blue as
heaven;

And when a frown-cloud rose to view,
Black as the car of thunder grew :
And wide and various as their hue
Would wander their expression too;
Which all unsteady in its range,
Seemed ever on the brink of change;
Still ready, even in anger's stress,
To tremble into tenderness.
Oh! she was glorious in a storm!
The lofty head, the heaving form,
The flash, the nostrils fluttering free,
All, all were fine yet dread to see:
And brilliant fell the glittering rain
That followed in the cloudy train,
And fairer still the peaceful bow
That spanned at last her arching brow.
Though spoiled with pride and wayward
will,

Her haughty heart was woman's still;
And 'neath the tempest lay asleep
A well of feeling, pure and deep,
O'errunning when the storm was gone,
To soothe the harms her wrath had done;
As though the very storm that rushed,
Had fed and filled the fount that gushed.

Else had I never learned to love,
Whom gentleness alone can move :
And oh! 't was in that tender hour,
She swayed me with resistless power;
How could she lift, and with a frown
As deeply, darkly cast me down!
How like a dog my mistress' will
I faithful watched, and followed still!
Content if only at her feet,

For even rebuke from her was sweet.
But pleasing more than outward sense,
She sparkled with intelligence ;
Her mind so rare, her wit so smart,
She won my brain as well as heart:
Enough: the journal of my breast,
Kept at the time, must tell the rest.

As surely as the week rolls round,
Am I at church devoted found:
As surely as I take my seat,

My eyes with Julia's chance to meet :
If once it haps, 't will hap again,
What mortal nature can refrain
To watch, despite the sacred place,
That tempting sight, a lovely face?
Young hearts, beware! that dread a
wound,

For even the church is dangerous ground,
When placed athwart a vision fair,
Just seated within eye-shot there:
In neatest dress, with bonnet sweet,
Flung loose to chase the summer heat,
Leaving the glowing charms we see,
To wooing winds, and glances free:
While airs which fanning feathers make,
To waves the slumbering tresses wake;
And looks, meant for the desk, may stray
And light on you along their way.

'Tis flowery land; but oh! beware!
The mischief-maker may be there:
Should there he catch a poaching heart,
Poor trespasser! he'll make it smart;
For hid among the flowers 't will find
Set traps of most imprisoning kind;
And may be tangled ere aware,
Within the mesh of tresses there.
Those eye-darts shot by Cupid's bow,
Would soon to poisoned arrows grow:
Each hair dipped in Love's quickening
spring,

Would turn a waving snake, and sting.

Not only is the idle heart

Endangered by the toiler's art,
But even the serious mind may rove;
Devotion's self is kin to Love.

At solemn hymn, whose stream of praise

A thousand grateful voices raise,
The heart unfolds its portals wide,
Unconsciously, to join the tide:
Whatever passion opes the door,
Love, ever watchful, stands before,
Still seeking, in his strife to win,
Sly rogue! to slip unnoticed in."

I caution others; as for me,

My heart once seared, is safely free:
Yet thrilled I when her eyes like day
Would rest on mine though turned away;
For there are glances felt, not seen,
That burn as deep, and pierce as keen.
To-morrow I can meet her too -
A walking party; shall I go,

And stir the tide now calmly clear?
Pshaw! nonsense! what have I to fear?
The scars of previous wounds o'ergrow,
And make my bosom love-proof now!

August 28.

OVER the hills, a sun-bright day,
Our party took their rambling way:
Now the rough quarry's depths pervade,
And now the cooling woodland shade:
Now following brooks through deep ra-
vines,

Now climbing steeps for distant scenes;
And fair that eastern view appeared,
Which oft my boyhood's eye had cheered,
By fairer landscape never blest ;
White clouds in motion, hills at rest,
By passing shadows overrun!
Passaic basking in the sun;
Far city-spires that task the eye,
Pricking like needle-points the sky:
Beneath our feet our native town,
Though humble, bright, because our own.
Still westward lay our course again;
At length a grass-green, winding lane
Through sheltering woods our footsteps
brings,

To one of Nature's bounties, springs:
Here sit we down for rest and breath,
A knotty, spreading oak beneath,
Whose roots drank from the fount, and
paid

The favor back with cooling shade:
At times, alarmed, some sudden frog
Plumped in the spring from neighboring
bog:

Without a sound the waters soft

Pushed up the clean red sand, and oft
A rising bubble from the spot,
Bright as a crystal jewel, shot.

From Julia's side I kept aloof,
Not feeling quite temptation-proof,
When from her head the hat she drew,
And to the breeze her tresses threw.
She leaned against the oak for rest,
With parted lips, and heaving breast;
Then laid those dangerous eyes to see,
Now languid with fatigue, on me:
Deep, deep their honied weight I felt
To sink within my heart, and melt.
I saw my peril, and alarmed
Drew back in hopes to 'scape unharmed:
Which she observing, bade me look
For wild-flowers by the running brook.
I went, for how could I refuse,
And plucked the rarest I could choose:
Odd gaping orchis, lilies too,
Jet spotted, in the marsh that grew;
And bright lobelia's flaming blaze,
That almost blinds the eyes that gaze:
And I was proud to see them placed
Within the folds that girt her waist.

O'er heaven now warning vapors dun Crept darkling, and put out the sun: Wrangled the clouds, and fell the fire, Struck from their rude collision, nigher. Escaping from the shower, we reach The sheltering tent of sloping beach: There gathered close, we list the strain Played on the leaves by pattering rain, At times by voice of thunder drowned, When his tremendous bass rings round.

So close we grouped that tree beneath,
I touched her hand I felt her breath;
I scanned her cheek so dainty fair,
But found no dimmest blemish there.
There is a power, a spell, a thrill,
A magnetism, or what you will,
Whose creepings on the sense encroach,
At living Beauty's near approach:
How did her breath my life-blood seize,
And wake to billows like a breeze!

Returning, would her arm recline,
All frankly, cordially on mine:
How dear to manhood's fondest pride,
Confiding woman's steps to guide!
How flashed the overloaded flowers
With gems, a present from the showers!
I never landscape saw mere gay,
Nor bluer sky, nor brighter day:
Had Love been there, I might suppose,
Seen through his soft mist, all was rose;
Fudge! Love has had his ruling hour:
Thank Heaven! I now defy his power!
'T was fit enough, in school-boy days,
To sigh, and melt at beauty's blaze:
All that is past; yet was she sweet!
Well, so are many that I meet;
How flattering too! where'er I go,
Her eyes for mine a preference show:
Poor soul! 't were pity she should burn
With passion I can ne'er return:
I'll gaze, not love: my course is plain;
I'll reap the bliss, and leave the pain.
A pleasant life, to roam at will
On Beauty's walks attendant still,
Safe from all rubs that lovers chafe;
Pleasant indeed - but am I safe?

August 29.
No! there is danger; all the night
I saw her like a starry light,
More lovely in my visions lone,
Than in my day-dream's truth she shone.
"Tis nought when on the sun we gaze,
If only dazzled by his rays;
But when our eyes his form retain,
Some wound to vision must remain.
So eyes at Beauty's presence thrill,
As ever at fair scenes they will,
But when 't is fixed by memory there,
Still brightly burning, then beware!

(on ;

Hence, Love! thou tempting friend, be-
gone!
That still through flower-fields lead'st me
Whose serpent-charm my bosom draws
To venomed ruin in its jaws :

I'll shun her, for it cannot be
Such eyes could ever smile on me;
Nor wake those passion-waves again,
To rack my heart with sickening pain:
Yet sweetly could I yield me still,
With closing eyes and passive will,
In ravishing delight to ride
Upon that bounding, sparkling tide,
Borne onward by the mastering flood,
To port or breakers, where it would!

It must not be; no! from this hour I'll save me, while I have the power :

Yet I this very night agreed
To lend her promised books to read!
Well; I will leave them at the door,
But enter Peril's courts no more.

August 30.
FOOL! madman! thus to venture nigh
The whirlpool of her dangerous eye:
I reached the door: herself was there;
Herself, with smiles all radiant fair:
She bade me enter: I declined;
Then stammering, stagger'd in half-blind.
There to the window we withdrew;
Oh, double fool! by moonlight too:
Deep, deep of love's insidious draught,
With reckless, quenchless thirst I quaffed,
Till midnight drove me home again,
So drunken, giddy, fired in brain,
That my bewildered, reeling head
Could scarcely find its sleepless bed.
September 2.
'Twas not, dear maid! thy noontide light
That won me with its flashings bright;
But thy sweet twilight hue that shone
Softly on me, and me alone!
'T was not thy song of music clear,
That rings to ravish all that hear;
But oh! thy gently breathing tone
Murmured to me and me alone!
All force, all dazzling, fails to move,
For softness is the soul of love.

Words that win, come softly flowing,
Like the lulling song of streams.
Vows of love and truth devoted,
Vainly at the bosom cast,
When on waves of music floated,

Ever reach their port at last!
All that moves must gently move:
Softness is the soul of love.

September 5.

TO-NIGHT at Julia's house we meet :
Oh! hours to be, of rapture sweet!
How will I feast on love's repast,
And triumph, while her favors last!
And will she change? it cannot be;
Still will I dream in her I see
A mind too high, a heart too warm,
To spurn a lover for his form:
A breast with feeling gushing o'er,
That asks for love, and asks no more.
Away with pause! it is too late
To dread, to shrink, to hesitate;
My doom, my fate, I must abide,
And sink or swim, I'm on the tide!
Then let me revel on that brow,
Though mad the act, and worse than
vain!

I'll quaff the luscious poison now,
And leave to sober hours the pain!

September 6.

I WENT; fair crowds my sight surprise:
The room was starry with their eyes;
But she was all surpassing fair:
One calla-flower ran round her hair,
And wreathed it like a hunter's horn:
The chaste, the only jewel worn.
Pure was her robe of virgin white,
Her eyes flashed round consuming light;
Yet oft on those she favored well,
Softly as mellow moonlight fell.
But scarce a solitary glance
Would light on me, unless by chance
Amid the flood she showered around,
Some straggling ray my features found,
And brilliant shone; but cold to me
As flash of phosphorescent sea :
Alas! those eyes with homage vain,
On others showered their sparkling rain.
Supreme my rival stood 'mid these,
Nor left untried all arts to please;
She sang his voice the praise supplied:
She danced and he was by her side
In pride of form and grace of limb:
What could I do to cope with him?
Hurt at the sight, but not depressed,
For trial roused, not sunk my breast;
I sought her hand when he resigned,
But she through feigned fatigue declined:
I told her, stung, I craved no more
Than others had received before:
Piqued, she replied all proudly then,
She danced with whom she pleased, and
when:

Rushed to my brow the burning blood
Fired with revenge and shame I stood
One maddening moment, then withdrew,
And to the open garden flew :
How changed the scene to which I fled !
Cool was the night-air to my head;

It told enough to bring me back;
Oh! yes; come torture, flame, or rack,
Better thy glance, though raging bright,
Than absence' dull funereal night:
The one is life of painful breath,
The other, gloomy, chilly death;
And like the soul, the heart will cling
To life, however sharp its sting.

All lost my patience and command,
Last night I went, guitar in hand,
And 'neath her window, thus my wrong
Poured out upon the night, in song:

1.

The heart no deeper gloom can know
Than absence' tomb-like solitude :
I better bore thine anger's glow,
Than the dull peace which has ensued.

II.

Give back mine eyes thy form again— Give but mine ears thy quickening voice,

And though thy glances flash disdain, And words speak daggers, I'll rejoice.

III.

For oh! reproach I could forgive,

Howe'er it jarred my brain to hear; And even thy fury's rage outlive, [near.' 'To know but this that thou wert

I must return

VI.

though doubly curst; Though all thy lightnings scathe my brain,

I care not I have known the worst-
For absence owns no master-pain.
September 15.
WITH a cold eye, and burning brain,
I stiffly sought her doors again :
My presence smiles of favor sweet,
And kindly words resistless greet;
And though our quarrel and my pain
She ventured not to touch, 't was plain
She saw, and strove with smiles to heal
The wounds her pride had made me feel :
She begged me join, in her sweet way,
A party for the Falls to-day :
And did I yield? oh! yes-oh! yes!
She smiled, and could I then do less?
Dear eyes! be cruel as ye will,
One kindly gaze secures me still!

September 16.

OH! day of wo! - but let me tell
The facts in order that befel :
A morn so fresh, so sweet, so clear,
Scarce thrice is matched within the year:
Bright were the faces, bright the skies;
With smiling heavens shone smiling eyes.
The merry laugh, the silver song,
Poured ceaseless as we rode along;
And Julia shone above the rest,
The brightest, wittiest, merriest, best.
But rarely I to mirth gave way;
I was too happy to be gay :
For she was kind as she was fair,
And more, my rival was not there.

By noon our journey's goal was found,
Where all indeed was fairy ground:
For summer's sun has never smiled
On spot more brightly, purely wild.
"T was where Passaic, scared from sleep,
First takes at Little Falls the leap :
For miles above, the lazy tide
Saunters along from side to side,
All blindly on its doubling track,
Though onward still, oft wandering back,
Through boggy marsh and tangled wood,
Where the shy wood-cock loves to brood:
But sudden from its torpid dream
Horrors awake the slumbering stream;
It hears too late the warning roar
Of the van-current, sent before,
Then whirled along with mighty sweep,
Breaks tumbling down the sloping steep:
Lighting around the rocky gloom
With one live mass of amber foam;
Whose spatterings all the margin drench;
Then, hurrying through the rocky trench,
Pauses, a moment's rest to take
In a deep-brimmed, isle-dotted lake;
Where walls basaltic steeply stand,
Square-hammered by 'Time's iron hand.
Whose chips and splinters at their base
Slide tinkling when our steps displace.

With Julia on the bank I stood,
Where towers a green and gloomy wood:
I felt, as close she shuddering clung,
My hand by hers unconscious wrung:
Oh! dearest rapture short of heaven,
Had love, not fear, that pressure given!
Long wander we in wonder there,
Then for our rustic meal prepare:
On mossy turf the cloth is spread,
With foam below, trees overhead.
The wine lay in a rock-rimmed pool,
Carved by the boring tide, to cool:
That seems all brimming as it stands,
A basin left by savage hands,
Hollowed by some dusk lover brave,
Wherein his Indian maid might lave.
From the high bank o'ergazing there,
I watched the group of creatures fair,
With locks astray, and necks bare-white,
All sitting, kneeling, as they might:
All laughing, screaming, for the noise
Of falls o'erwhelmed the usual voice:
All rose with health, all bright with glee-
If others shone, oh! did not she?

I felt, as doted there my eye,
I could forswear all mortal joy;
Hopes, home, and kindred all resign,
To clasp that precious form as mine!

I join them, and our dinner o'er,
We clamber round the rising shore:
We cross the lake in boats, we land;
Dig sparkling crystals in the sand:
In silent pools, a bright surprise,
The water-lily glads our eyes :
First gem of flowers the sense that greet,
As snow-drop white, as jasmine sweet,
In emerald cup of scalloped brim,
Moored on the lake to rock and swim.
I plucked one virgin blossom there,
And placed it in her raven hair.

Embarked upon the stream once more,
We rowed all round the craggy shore:
Beside a tiny isle we float,

Scarce larger than our clumsy boat,
Of huge columnar prisms composed,
In all their truth of form disclosed:
Emerging rudely from the flood,
The pile of stony crystals stood; [push
Between whose pinching joints would
The wild-flower stalk and hungry bush.
Here landing, Julia first, with me,
The rest push off in sportive glee:
Beyond our reach they haste; they 're
Leaving us helpless there alone. [gone!
She sat upon the islet's crown,
Myself reclining farther down.

Oh! bright Romance, whose glass of rose
A bloom on rudest objects throws,
And kindles even in skies most fair,
A gleam of sunset glory there:

I could not view that scene, that maid,
Nor wish some fitting words were said:
I gazed, but lost in absent dream,
She musing watched the silent stream:
Her lips asleep, I had no heart
By sound or touch to wake, and part
Such loving, sweetly-clinging mates,
To ope such ruby barrier-gates;
Scarce for a herald word to tell
The rendering of the citadel.
Not long my heart impetuous coyed,
Leaving that rose-time unemployed:
I spake, scarce wishing for reply,
But more to guide her reverie:
'How sweet if like a buoyant boat,
This isle around the world could float!
Ourselves the only crew to mark
All strangest regions from our bark!'
As dropped my words, a vacant smile
Broke into dimples for a while;

But soon the rippling waves there raised,
Grew calm as those whereon she gazed.

It chanced! oh! chance to me most dread,
Her hand lay near, too near my head:
No charm so robs me of command,
As such a round, soft, snowy hand:
There lay the pearl more prized than gold,
That I would part with all to hold!
My eyes sailed every vein of blue,
Down to the tips where roses grew,