Lenora.

" Oh , mother , mother , gone is gone 1 The past , the past is ended ! Death—death is now my gain alone . Why was I born unfriended ? Be quenched my light—be quench'd for aye , In night and horror die away . God has no kindness done me , Oh woe ! oh woe upon me ! "

" Help , God ! nor into judgment go On this poor child's expressions ; What her tongue ; says she does not know : Record not her transgressions . Forget all earthly woe like this ; Think but on God ancl heavenly bliss ; Then to thy spirit ' s panting , No bridegroom shall be wanting . "

" Oh mother ! what is hell—or bliss- —• That thus you speak about it ; I knew but heaven in Wilhelm ' s kiss , And all is hell without it . Be quench'd my light—be quench'd for aye , In night ancl horror die away . On earth , without my lover , All happiness is over . "

Thus her despair o ' er every sense And through each vein was raging , And war against God ' s Providence Most rashly she was waging . She wrung her hands and beat her breast Until the sun went clown to rest , And up in heav ' n ' s arch beaming The golden stars were gleaming .

Hush ! listen ! listen ! tramp—tramp —tramp ! A courser ' s steps she counted , The rider next , with clattering stamp , Before the porch dismounted . Ancl listen ! at the gate a ring

Sounds faintly— -softly—kling-lingling ! And then come , through the portal , These words , dintinctl y mortal :

" Holla ! open the door my pet ; Watchest thou , love ? or sleepest ? How art thou mooded tow ' rds me yet ? And laughest thou , or weepest ? " "Ah , Wilhelm ! thou ! so late at ni ght ! I ' ve watch'd for thee in sorrowing ¦ P Ught , Ancl undergone much chiding . Whence com ' st thou now , thus riding ?

" We only saddle at midnight , From far Bohemia , hither , I rous'd myself late for the flight , And now will bear thee thither . " "Stay , Wilhelm , stay ! The wind doth rush

Loud whistling through the hawthornbush . Here—heart ' s love—let me hold thee , My warm arms shall enfold thee . "

" Let the wind whistle through the haws , Child—let it whistle stronger . Now clinks my spur ; the black-horse paws ; I dare not tarry longer . Come—come ; truss up thy dress , and

spring-On my black-horse , behind me swing . To reach our couch to-day , love , One hundred miles away , love . " " Ancl must I ride one hundred miles To our bride-bed to-day , love ? Ancl hark ! the church clock tolls meanwhiles ,

Eleven ! cloth it say , love ? " " See here ! see there ! the moon is high ; We and the dead can swiftly fly . 'Tis for a bet we ' re flying To where the couch is lying . " " Tet say—where is thy bridal hall ,

Thy nuptial bed—where lies it ?" " Far—far from hence!—still , cool , and small , Eight slender planks comprise it . " "Hastroomforme ? " "Forme and thee ! Come , gird thy dress ; quick , mount with me . The guests are there to meet thee ; The doors wide open greet thee . "

The fair girl quickly' dressed , and sprung Upon the horse behind him ; And round the trusty rider flung Her lily arms , entwined him . And hurra ! off ! away ! the steed Flies like the wind , with vdiistliiig

speed , The horse and rider quivering , And sparks and pebbles shivering . And right and left—on either hand Before their eyes quick sunder'd , How flew the lawns , and heaths , and land ! And how the bridges thunder'd !