'Tis eve. The orphan gains the holy ground, } And listening halts;--the boughs that circle round } Vex'd by no wind, yet rustle with a sound, } As if that gentle form had scared some lone Unwonted step more timid than its own! All still once more; perchance some daunted bird, That loves the night, the murmuring leaves had stirr'd? She nears the tomb--amaze!--what hand unknown Has placed those pious flowers upon the stone? Why beats her heart? why hath the electric mind, Whose act, whose hand, whose presence there, divined? Why dreading, yearning, turn those eyes to meet The adored, the lost?--Behold him at her feet! His, those dark eyes that seek her own through tears, His hand that clasps, and his the voice she hears, Broken and faltering--"Is the trial past? Here, by the dead, art thou made mine at last? Far--in far lands I heard thy tale!--And thou Orphan and lone!--no bar between us now! No Arden now calls up the wrong'd and lost; Lo, in this grave appeased the upbraiding ghost! Orphan, I am thy father now!--Bereft Of all beside,--this heart at least is left. Forgive, forgive--Oh, canst thou yet bestow One thought on him, to whom thou art all below? Who could desert but to remember more? Canst thou the Heaven, the exile lost, restore? Canst thou----" The orphan bow'd her angel head; Breath blent with breath--her soul her silence said; Eye unto eye, and heart to heart reveal'd;-- And lip on lip the eternal nuptials seal'd! The Moon breaks forth--one silver stream of light Glides from its fount in heaven along the night-- Flows in still splendour through the funeral gloom Of yews,--and widens as it clasps the tomb-- Through the calm glory hosts as calm above Look on the grave--and by the grave is LOVE! [S] "At best it _babies_ us."--YOUNG. [T] "For, oh! he stood before me as my youth."--COLERIDGE'S _Wallenstein_. [U] The beautiful story of Aimee--the delight of all children--is in the collection entitled "The Temple of the Fairies." [V] According to the exploded hypothesis of Voltaire, that the Gipsies are a Syrian tribe, the remains of the long scattered fraternity of Isis. [W] Whoever is well acquainted with the heathen learning must often have been deeply impressed with the mournful character of the mythological Elysium. Even the few admitted to the groves of asphodel, unpurified by death, retain the passions and pine with the griefs of life; they envy the mortal whom the poet brings to their moody immortality; and, amidst the disdained repose, sigh for the struggle and the storm.