I knew, I knew the little hand So fondly pressed in thine, Not all the treasures of a world Would tempt thee to resign. But, love, upon Affection’s shrine I lay an offering now, Can weave a spell more potent far Than even wifely vow! Now lift it from the sheltering folds That hide it from thy sight— Nay, dearest, start not to behold This dagger sharp and bright! Look thou upon it tranquilly— Without one hurried breath— ’Tis the last token of a love That cannot yield to death. Is’t not a precious gift, beloved?— ’Twill break thy heavy chain; And prison-bolts, and dungeon-walls, Shall bar thy way in vain! The felon’s doom thou need’st not fear, This talisman is thine: “Freedom” and “Honor” on the blade— In glowing letters shine! Oh! would that I might kneel, mine own, By thy dear side once more, And hold thy head upon my breast Till life’s last pang were o’er! I would not shrink nor falter, When I saw thy life-blood flow; But deathless love should give me strength Calmly to let thee go! It may not be! A shadow lies Darkly upon our way; I may not hear thy last, low sigh, Nor o’er thy still form pray. Oh, God of love, and might, and power! Shall blood be shed in vain?— Upon our mountains and our vales It hath been poured like rain; Our streams are darkened by its flow— It taints the very air; What marvel if our spirits sink In anguish and despair? Look Thou upon us! Thou, whose word Can set the prisoner free!— So shall the tyrant’s sword no more Hang over Hungary! * * * * * I DREAMED. BY WM. M. BRIGGS. I had a dream of sunny hours, That glided fast away; I had a dream of starry flowers, Unwet with tears of falling showers, Untouched by dark decay; I foolish dreamt of sunset skies That slept unchanged amid their gorgeous dies.