CHAPITRE VI

Ee'r niartyrdom was o'er.

Like the hush when those greenbillows Foamed no longer lo the blast, Like the dull and fearful silence When that hour of carnage past, So still, and dim, and awful, Is the pause within lier soûl, As the days her heart recalleth Thro' the glass of Memory roll ; Till a break of summer sunshine Gilds her strange eveutful life, And the orphan, tried by sorrow, Is a young and blooming Wife.

Oh ! soft the gentle hours

Are passing, day by day,

Like the tide of some calni river

Flowing onward and away ;

For her heart hath fouud new pleasore

Whose touch can never cloy ;

Bright children gather round lier

Young buds of hope and joy,

Her husband's kind voice blesses

Each treasure shc hath brought,

And her smile hath pow r to cheer iiim

In the hours of anxious ihought :

For Peace was there ! Bright spirit I Whose dove-Iike folded wings, Will rest, for some chance hour, By Life' s redundant springs ; But whom no man hath tempted To Hnger long below, A dweller and abider In scènes of toil and woe.

The fîrst wild wave that riseth Against its pliant breast Those beauteous wings outspreading Peace seeks her home of rest, Far ofï, where none may follow, Through the blue vault of the sky, Lost to our hearts, but ever Remembered with a sigh !

But mark, what change hath clouded The woman's wandering dream?

The face whose smile was sunshine AH pale and wan doth seem ; And he she loved, appeareth, A shadow and a wreck, Bruised, wasted, faint, and dying, On the vessel's fatal deck !