And bathed her in its tinge. "Oh! beauty of my heart," he said, "Oh! darling, darling mine, Was ever light of evening shed On loveliness like thine? Why should I ever leave this spot, But gaze until I die?" A moment from that bursting thought She felt his footstep nigh. One sudden, lifted glance--but one, A tremor and a start, So gently was their greeting done That who would guess their heart? Long, long the sun had sunken down, And all his golden trail Had died away to lines of brown, In duskier hues that fail. [Illustration: 0260] Googlt The grasshopper was chirping shrill-- No other living sound Accompanied the tiny rill That gurgled under ground-- No other living sound, unless Some spirit bent to hear Low words of human tenderness, And mingling whispers near. The stars, like pallid gems at first, Deep in the liquid sky, Now forth upon the darkness burst, Sole kings and lights on high; In splendour myriad-fold, supreme-- No rival moonlight strove, Nor lovelier e'er was Hesper's beam, Nor more majestic Jove. But what if hearts there beat that night That recked not of the skies, Or only felt their imaged light In one another's eyes. And if two worlds of hidden thought And fostered passion met, Which, passing human language, sought And found an utterance yet; And if they trembled like to flowers That droop across a stream, The while the silent starry hours Glide o'er them like a dream; And if, when came the parting time, They faltered still and clung; What is it all?--in ancient rhyme Ten thousand times besung-- That part of Paradise which man Without the portal knows-- Which hath been since the world began, And shall be till its close. ----J. O'Hagan. THE BROTHERS: HENRY AND JOHN SHEARS |Tis midnight; falls the lamp-light dull and sickly On a pale and anxious crowd, Through the court, and round the judges, thronging thickly, With prayers none dare to speak aloud. Two youths, two noble youths, stand prisoners at the bar-- You can see them through the gloom-- In pride of life and manhood's beauty, there they are Awaiting their death doom. All eyes an earnest watch on them are keeping, Some, sobbing, turn away, And the strongest men can hardly see for weeping, So noble and so loved were they. Their hands are locked together, those young brothers, As before the judge they stand-- They feel not the deep grief that moves the others; For they die for Fatherland. They are pale, but it is not fear that whitens On each proud high brow; For the triumph of the martyr's glory brightens Around them even now. They sought to free their land from thrall of stranger,-- Was it treason? Let them die;