Another hand in fancy thou wert pressing; Another voice fell softly on thine ear: And looks of love came—with a low-voiced blessing— From beaming eyes, that memory brought _so near_. While thoughts of a bright meeting on the morrow Had chased a transient shadow from thy brow— Unto my heart came the first thrill of sorrow; An omen of the weight it beareth now. We parted: I those mournful thoughts to smother Within a breast till then unknown to care. I knew thou lovedst only as a brother— A sister’s love I had no wish to share. In that short hour I had lived many years; And now, alas! must share the common lot— The lot of woman—suffering and tears; While yet a child to those who knew me not. The wreath of Fame e’en then for thee was twining; High aspirations urged thee proudly on: The light of love upon thy path was shining, A dear hand would be thine when fame was won. I bade God speed thee; though my heart was breaking My pale cheek flushed beneath thy parting kiss— Hope from my soul a final leave was taking— _The future hath no trial worse than this_. * * * * * SONNET FROM PETRARCH, ON THE DEATH OF LAURA. TRANSLATED BY ALICE GREY. Where is the brow that, with the slightest sigh, Moved my fond heart, its most devoted slave? Where the fair eye-lid, and those stars divine, Which to my life its only lustre gave? Where is the worth, the wise, accomplished mind; The prudent, modest, humble, sweet discourse? Where are the beauties which, in her combined, So long of all my actions were the source? The shadow of that gentle countenance To which the weary soul for rest might flee? And where my thoughts were written; where is she Who held my willing life within her hands? Alas! for the sad world! alas! for my Still weeping eyes, that never shall be dry. * * * * * A CHAPTER ON EATING. PART I. (THE PHILOSOPHY AND USES OF EATING.) BY FRANCIS J. GRUND.