In the same cot, in vain he pray'd

With Chloe to be linkt:

Now, absent from the scornful maid,
His passion seems extinct.

But see with what a curious whim
Its flame doth love transfer-
The fervours, all so damp'd in him,
Are kindled up in her.

IV.

What absence took, still absence gives,
To one-a store of sighs!

From her escap'd, lo! Edward lives:
For him, poor Chloe dies.

REV. R. POLWHELE.

THE TEAR OF COMPASSION.

BY MR. JAMES IRVING.

I THOUGHT of my home, and I said to my heart, "Will joy ever thrill thee again?

"Or does Hope through the clouds of Misfortune "e'er dart

"A sweet soothing ray, and a comfort impart, "That consoles thee in sorrow and pain?”

It sighed for the memory of days that were past
Rose fairer and fairer to view;

While over the present thick darkness was cast,
And Misfortune was there with his cold bitter blast
That forbade it those days to renew.

And the gloom was impervious to Hope's friendly ray,
And misfortunes were thick'ning around,
That threatened for ever to darken my day,
And leave me in sorrow and anguish to stray
In a desart that knew not a bound.

But a tear of compassion, from woman's mild

eye,

On the griefs that had caus'd me to roam, Removed every cloud that o'ershadowed my sky, Forced sorrow and anguish my bosom to fly, And gave me repose and a home.

May the tear then of woman, from pity that flows,
To man's throbbing bosom be dear;

And the deep wounds of grief where it falls ever close,
And the heart thus relieved by a tear from its woes,
Ever bless the fair source of the tear.

THE TEAR OF FORGIVENESS.

BY THE SAME.

IGAZ'D on her form that was alter'd by woes,
And spoke of afflictions severe;

I marked the pale lilies in quiet repose

On her cheek, once adorned with the fair blooming rose, While slow was descending a tear.

Still mild was her eye, but it seemed to declare
That the close of her sorrows was near;
The quick glance of spirit no longer was there,
'Twas sad, yet benignant, for still could it spare
For the woes of another, a tear.

But the tear that now fell was enriched with a charm That forever must render it dear;

Nor Friendship, nor Love, nor Delight, made it warm, Nor Sympathy, bade it the bosom disarm

'Twas Forgiveness that shone in the tear.

And the sigh that arose from her bosom that heaved, Made its beauty still fairer appear;

For she sighed not because she of peace was bereaved,
But that one she had trusted should e'er have deceived,
Or e'er been forgiven in a tear.

Tho' broken that heart, and tho' closed is that eye
Which beamed with affection sincere ;

From my heart, from my memory, it never shall fly, How when wronged and deceived, still her bosom's last sigh

Could attend on Forgiveness's tear.

EPITAPH.

WRITTEN FOR COLONEL ROBERT BROOKE, 1811.

BY EYLES IRWIN, ESQ.

STRANGER! if burning 'neath an eastern sky,
Thy lot were Hyder's myriads to defy ;
If fame and glory thine, complacent turn,
And boast thy kindred to a soldier's urn!

But if the friend, by sympathy, be led,
Thro' these instructive mansions of the dead,
For private, as for public worth, to look-
Behold her rays illume the grave of BROOKE !

SONG.

MARY'S EYES.

FROM Mary's eyes, with lustre beaming,
Though liquid.tenderness distil,
'Tis but a softer lustre streaming

From orbs that pity's dew drops fill.
'Tis like some modest star, that gleaming
Through heaven's blue veil, at eve appears;
More lovely rob'd with halo seeming,
More sweetly radiant dress'd in tears.

And as the sympathetic sorrow

Flies, like the nightly clouds that stray Through ether, lovelier tints to borrow From sunshine, the sweet smile of day; So Mary's eyes a jocund morning,

A sunny dawn of smiles, will prove; Each artless look with joy adorning, And all the cloudless light of love.

T. K. C.