Towards the grey church he walked alone;

Knelt beside a simple stone,

And gazed upon a name thereon.

Fair he was and young in

years,

Yet on his cheek was the trace of tears;

Channels deep that sorrow wears.

But he spoke not now, nor wept;

All his sorrow silence kept,

Though it slumbered not nor slept.

With a fixed and stony eye

Heedless of the passers-by

Looking on in sympathy

Long he gazed, then turned away;
Mounted again his dapple grey-
Seen no more from that sad day:

Seen no more on heath or hill,

Or within the churchyard still,

Where sleeps the maiden of the Ghyll.

E

FOR EVER.

I ASKED of the loud resounding Sea,
'Hast thou no answer in thy secret caves ;
Thus shall it ever through the ages be,

That we must separate by closing graves :
Shall the eternal ages bring no meeting,
No fond embracing, no enraptured greeting?'
But the waves, sobbing with a wilder moan,
Seemed to give answer-' None.'

I called to the Earth in my unrest,

'Oh, Mother Earth! is there no waking morn, For those whom thou hast taken to thy breast,

Are longing hearts for aye asunder torn?

Oh, tell me for my heart is full of sadness,
Hast thou for me no voice of joy or gladness?'
But she replied, by deep-toned winds alone
Which sadly answered-'None.'

I asked the Sky when all her glittering stars
She hung upon the diadem of night,

'Hast thou, blue deep, no balm for human cares-
On
my soul's darkness canst thou cast no light?
Do those whom closing graves divide and sever,
After long ages meet again for ever?'

But all the myriad stars which trembling shone
Gave to me answer none.

'Oh River! sporting down the birchen dale,

O'erlooked by grey old crags and moorlands wide,

Tell thou not to my heart the same sad tale,
For we have often wandered by thy side,

And loved thy sportive waves o'er rocks descending,

Or devious through the level meadows wending.

Alas! a voice from stream and forest lone,

Whispers for ever gone!'

Eternal Father! I do ask of Thee,

And Thou dost tell me in my heart of hearts,

And in Thy word, that frail mortality,

This perishable clay, is all that parts

From the sweet bliss where no rude hand can sever,

And loving hearts dwell in Thy breast for ever

Thou, only Thou, canst answer this deep moan, Thou only, and alone!