But she is not! and still, to thee, Are the sunny wave and the shadowing tree, The mossy brink and the thistle flower, Dear, as to thee in that blessed hour! What is the spell o'er thy pinion thrown That binds thee here, fair bird, alone? Does the vision bright of thy peerless bride Still skim the lake and press thy side? And haunt the nook in the fir-tree's shade? And press the moss in the sunny glade? And has earth nothing, to thee, so fair, As the gentle spirit that lingers there? Oh, 'tis a wondrous, wizard spell! The human bosom its force can tell; The heart forsaken hath felt, like thine, The mystic web with its fibres twine, Constraining still in the scenes to stay, Where all it treasured had passed away. Bird of Loch Oich, 'tis well! 'tis well! You yield your wing to the viewless spell; Oh, who would seek, with a stranger eye, For blooming shores and a brilliant sky And range the earth for the hopeless art, To find a home for a broken heart? Oh, I would linger, though all alone, Where hallowed love its light has thrown, And hearth and streamlet and tree and flower, Are link'd in thought with a blessed hour; Home of my heart, those scenes should be As thy own Loch Oich, fair bird to thee. ELIZA. _Maine_. OTTO VENIUS. Otto Venius, the designer of “Le Theatre moral de la Vie Humaine,” illustrates Horace's “Raro antecedentem scelestum deseruit _pede_ pœna _claudo_,” by sketching Punishment with a wooden leg. {428} DIARY OF AN INVALID. NO. I. ULEA HOLSTEIN—A TALE OF THE NORTHERN SEAS.