But she died first,—past sorrow had weighed down the head of this flower too far, and it broke and fell lovely to the grave. Alas! she departed before the weeping angel, not like the sun which plunges proudly before admiring nature into the ocean, raising its ruddy waves to heaven, but like the still moon which sinks at midnight, surrounded by a pale mist silvered by its own beams.
Death sent as a precursor his gentler sister Insensibilty. She touched the heart of the bride, and her warm countenance froze,—the flowers of her cheek shrunk—the pale snow of winter beneath which the spring of Eternity buds, covered her brow and her hands. The swelling eye of the angel melted into a burning tear—and while he thought his heart had burst forth in the form of that drop of water—like a pearl from the brittle shell-fish,—the bride moved, awaking from her last mental aberration, once more raised up her eyes, clasped him to her heart, and while she kissed him, said. "Now I am with thee my brother"—expired.—The angel imagined his heavenly brother had given him the sign of the kiss of death, but instead of a beaming heaven, a melancholy gloom surrounded him, and he sighed that this was not Death, but only human sorrow for the sufferings of another.
"O ye afflicted mortals." cried he, "how do ye out-
