That loved-one yet is here; and flowers, and songs,
    And streams—­to gush above her own free feet
  Of stainless ivory,—­and countless throngs
    Of birds are living, her pure soul to greet. 
  And the lone spirit, thoughtfully that longs
    For a dim view of Eden, from a seat
  O’erhanging some green valley, now espies
  Nought that might dread compare with Paradise!

  There is a glory gone forth from on high!—­
    It quickens the heart’s beat, whereon it flings
  Its fervour;—­the flushed cheek and glowing eye
    Confess its influence;—­and the many strings,
  Voiceless too long in the young heart, reply
    To the mute promptings of a thousand things
  Which Spring has conjured up;—­all, all is hers—­
  That Glory without name—­she ministers.

  Now—­all the thoughts she wakens in the heart
    Are glorious Music!—­divine Poesy!—­
  Now—­all the dreams on Fancy’s eyes that start,
    She will disown not, wayward though they be. 
  Sweet Dreams!—­down Lethe’s billow they depart—­
    Words are too weak to clothe them worthily. 
  Rich incense, burnt upon some altar stone
  Censerless,—­in a temple—­desert—­lone!

  What shall we do in these delightful days,
    When the full, bounding heart, will not be still;—­
  When the glad eye, absorbed in far-sent gaze,
    Forgets Earth’s plenitude of grief and ill;—­
  Shall we dream on, in a bewitching maze
    Of sweet affections and bold hopes, until
  Earth is not Earth—­but Heaven? or shall we die
  Hourly, to some “dissolving minstrelsy?”

  Sometimes, when day is dying—­when twilight
    Brings its dim Vigil,—­hour of quietness,—­
  ’Tis sweet to listen, till the cheated sight
    Pictures strange shadowings of awfulness,—­
  Some wild, old tale of goblin’s ghastly spite,
    Or antique strain of passionate distress;—­
  And one, which has been wept o’er many a time
  I seek, to mar, perchance, with feeble rhyme

May, 1828.

Thomas M——­s.

* * * * *

EXECUTION AND LAST MOMENTS OF LORD WILLIAM RUSSEL.

(For the Mirror.)

This distinguished patriot and martyr to the cause of liberty was the third son of William, the first Duke of Bedford, by a daughter of the Earl of Somerset.  He refused the generous offer of Lord Cavendish to favour his escape, by changing clothes with him in prison; and he also declined the Duke of Monmouth’s proposal to surrender himself, should Lord William Russel think it might contribute to his safety.  “It will be no advantage to me,” he said, “to have my friends die with me.”  Conjugal affection was the feeling that clung to his heart; and when he had taken his last farewell of his wife, he said, “The bitterness of death is now over.”  He suffered the sentences of