band?"     And louder still become the cries, And soon this thought foreboding flies Through every heart, with speed of light—    "Observe in this the furies' might! The poets manes are now appeased The murderer seeks his own arrest! Let him who spoke the word be seized, And him to whom it was addressed!"     That word he had no sooner spoke, Than he its sound would fain invoke; In vain! his mouth, with terror pale, Tells of his guilt the fearful tale. Before the judge they drag them now The scene becomes the tribunal; Their crimes the villains both avow, When neath the vengeance-stroke they fall. 

           THE PLAYING INFANT. Play on thy mother's bosom, babe, for in that holy isle The error cannot find thee yet, the grieving, nor the guile; Held in thy mother's arms above life's dark and troubled wave, Thou lookest with thy fearless smile upon the floating grave. Play, loveliest innocence!—Thee yet Arcadia circles round, A charmed power for thee has set the lists of fairy ground; Each gleesome impulse Nature now can sanction and befriend, Nor to that willing heart as yet the duty and the end. Play, for the haggard labor soon will come to seize its prey. Alas! when duty grows thy law, enjoyment fades away! 

             HERO AND LEANDER. 34 A BALLAD. 

      See you the towers, that, gray and old, Frown through the sunlight's liquid gold, Steep sternly fronting steep? The Hellespont beneath them swells, And roaring cleaves the Dardanelles, The rock-gates of the deep! Hear you the sea, whose stormy wave, From Asia, Europe clove in thunder? That sea which rent a world, cannot Rend love from love asunder! In Hero's, in Leander's heart, Thrills the sweet anguish of the dart Whose feather flies from love. All Hebe's bloom in Hero's cheek—    And his the hunter's steps that seek Delight, the hills above! Between their sires the rival feud Forbids their plighted hearts to meet; Love's fruits hang over danger's gulf, By danger made more sweet. Alone on Sestos' rocky tower, Where upward sent in stormy shower, The whirling waters foam,—    Alone the maiden sits, and eyes The cliffs of fair Abydos rise Afar—her lover's home. Oh, safely thrown from strand to strand, No bridge can love to love convey; No boatman shoots from yonder shore, Yet Love has found the way.—  

   

   

     That love, which 

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