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Among the lonely knolls her heart sobbed out its pain,
And 'twas said her silken snood ne'er tied so well again.'

The one who next appeared, a tattered bible bore,
And said, 'when first in youth you left your mother's door,
With swimming eyes she came, this book she bade you take,
And keep it as her gift, and read it for her sake;
But scarce two days were past, ere at a drunken fair
You lost it in the streets, to be soiled and trampled there.'

The next who came to taunt, a piece of money showed,
And said, 'When paying last a neighbour what you owed,
He was an aged man, and somewhat thick of sight,

And you therefore slid this coin among others that were bright;
But the edge was partly worn, and the brass that glared behind
Disgraced its silver coat, like a secret sinner's mind.'

Tormented thus and stung by a many a bitter word,

'The last,' he cries, 'is false !' and starts and grasps his sword. Around on every side his furious strokes he plies,

Among their flitting shapes, among their glaring eyes; But laughing, at his rage, on sooty wings they fled, And a new rattling shower assailed his heather-bed. Blackwood's Magazine.

LOVE.

NAY, pray thee, let me weep, for tears
Are Love's most fitting offerings ;—
weep his smiles, I'll weep his sighs,
But, more than all, I'll weep his wings.

I'll

I'll weep his smiles, for first they taught
My young heart what his sighs could be;
I'll weep his wings, for they have borne
Away the truth you plighted me.

Literary Gazette.

STANZAS

WRITTEN BY THE SEA SIDE.

ONE evening as the Sun went down,
Gilding the mountains bare and brown,
I wandered on the shore;

And such a blaze o'er ocean spread,
And beauty on the meek earth shed,
I never saw before!

I was not lonely ;-dwellings fair
Were scattered 'round and shining there ;-
Gay groups were on the green

Of children, wild with reckless glee,
And parents that could child-like be
With them and in that scene.

And on the sea, that looked of gold,
Each toy-like skiff and vessel bold
Glided, and yet seemed still;
While sounds rose in the quiet air,
That mingling made sweet music there,
Surpassing Minstrel's skill!—

The breezy murmur from the shore,-
Joy's laugh re-echoed o'er and o'er

Alike by sire and child,

The whistle shrill, the broken song,—
The far off flute-notes lingering long,-
The lark's strain rich and wild.

I looked, I listened, and the spell
Of Music and of Beauty fell

So radiant on my heart,

That scarcely durst I really deem
What yet I would not own a dream,

Lest dream-like, it depart.

'Twas sunset in the world around;-
And, looking inwards, so I found
'Twas sun-set in the soul;

Nor grief, nor mirth, were burning there,
But musings sweet, and visions fair,
In placid beauty stole.

But moods like these, the human mind,
Though seeking oft, may seldom find,
Or, finding, force to stay ;-
As dews upon the drooping flower,
That having shone their little hour,
Dry up-or fall away.

But though all pleasures take their flight,
Yet some will leave memorials bright
For many an after year;

This sunset, that dull night will shade,—
These visions, which must quickly fade,
Will half-immortal memory braid

For me, when far from here!

Literary Gazette.

M. J. J.

IMPROMPTU

TO LADY HOLLAND ON NAPOLEON'S LEGACY OF A SNUFF BOX.

BY THOMAS MOORE, ESQ.

GIFT of the Hero, on his dying day,

To her, whose pity watched, for ever nigh; Oh! could he see the proud, the happy ray, This relic lights up on her generous eye, Sighing, he'd feel how easy 'tis to pay

A friendship all his kingdoms could not buy.

Animula vagula, blandula,
Hospes, comesque corporis,
Quæ nunc abibis in locâ?

O THOU wondrous arch of azure,
Sun, and starry plains immense !
Glories that astound the gazer

By their dread magnificence!—
O thou ocean, whose commotion
Awes the proudest to devotion,
Must I must I from ye fly,
Bid ye all adieu—and die !—

O ye keen and gusty mountains,
On whose tops I braved the sky!
O ye music-pouring fountains,

On whose marge I loved to lie!
O ye posies,—lilies, roses,

All the charms that earth discloses,
Must I must I from ye fly,
Bid ye all adieu-and die!

O ye birds, whose matin chorus
Taught me to rejoice and bless!
And ye beasts, whose voice sonorous
Swelled the hymn of thankfulness;
Learned leisure, and the pleasure,
Of the muse, my dearest treasure,
Must I must I from ye fly,
Bid ye all adieu-and die!

O domestic ties endearing,

Which still chain my soul to earth! O ye friends, whose converse cheering Winged the hours with social mirth! Songs of gladness, chasing sadness, Wine's delight without its madness, Must I must I from ye fly,

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Yes! I now fulfil the fiction
Of the swan that sings in death:-
Earth, receive my benediction!

Air, inhale my parting breath!
Hills and valleys, forest alleys,
Prompters of my muse's sallies;
Fields of green, and skies of blue,
Take, oh take my last adieu !

Yet, perhaps, when all is ended,

And the grave dissolves my frame,
The elements from which 'twas blended
May their several parts reclaim;
Waters flowing, breezes blowing,
Earth, and all upon it growing,
Still may have my altered essence
Ever floating in their presence.

While my disembodied spirit
May to fields Elysian soar,
And some lowest seat inherit

Near the mighty bards of yore;

Never, never to disssever,

But to dwell in bliss for ever,

Tuning an enthusiast lyre

To that high and laureled quire.

London Magazine.

H.

IMITATION OF A GREEK EPIGRAM.

I MOURN not those who have already left

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Life the sweet light of life-and life's pure breath :But, oh, I mourn their state, of Hope bereft, Who, living, pine in hourly dread of death,

And dying live;-and supplicate the gift

Of added years to deck their wintry wreath

Of hoary honours ;-and when years are given,

Then pray for more-to make their peace with heaven!

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