He’s gone! she cry’d; and I shall see
That angel-face no more.
I feel, I feel this breaking heart
Beat high against my side—
From her white arm down sunk her head;
She shivering sigh'd, and died.
THE MEETING OF THE WATERS.
There is not in this wide world, a valley so sweet,
As that vale in whose bosom the bright waters meet;
Oh ! the last rays of feeling and life must depart,
Ere the bloom of that valley shall fade from my heart.
Yet it was not the nature had shed o'er the scene,
Her purest of chrystal and brightest of green;
It was not the soft magic of streamlet or rill,
Oh! no, it was something more exquisite still!
Twas that friends, the beloved of my bosom were near,
Who made every scene of enchantment more dear,
And who felt how the best charms of nature improve,
When we see them reflected from looks that we love.
Sweet vale of Ovoca, how calm could I rest,
In thy bosom of shade, with the friends I love best,
