( 25y ) 



ON THE DISCOVKRY, IN EXCAVATING, OF A RING 



SUPPOSED TO HAVE BEEN BURIED FOR CENTURIES, WITH THE 



INSCRIPTION 



"I AM THINE!" 



Ybs, simple is the ring, and still 



More simple the love-breathing words ; 



And yet they have a power to thrill 

 The bosom's softest, tenderest chords : 



Theirs is the eloquence no art 



Can reach — the rhet'ric of the heart. - 



Those words were murmur'd, years ago, 



By maiden lips that knew no guile ; 

 That ring embalm'd in all its glow, — 



A rapturous hour that, like a smile. 

 Lit with its sunbeam memory's cell. 

 And shed o'er life a fairy spell. 



'Twas mid the farewell agony. 



When nature speaks beyond control , 

 When every feeling gushes free. 



She placed yon record of the soul 

 Upon the hand she lov'd so much. 

 That bliss was in its slightest touch. 



Ah ! who can tell, if that adieu 



Was their last parting ? who can tell 

 What after- woe 'twas his to rue. 



What fond tears from her bright eyes fell ? 

 Their fate, their fortunes, who can say } 

 Their very names have passed away ! 



Cold are the lips that breath'd the vow, 

 And cold 's the heart that prompted it ; 



All vanish'd, lost, forgotten now. 



Save yonder ring, where love hath writ 



A tale of tenderness and truth, 



Fadeless as his immortal youth. 



Till sleepless time shall be at rest. 



Affection shall the spoiler dare ; 

 While beats a warm devoted breast. 



That breast shall for some dear one bear, 

 Carv'd deeply on its inmost shrine, 

 I^ove's deathless motto, " I am thine!" 



Elkanor Snowden. 



