But, as I said, her lovely hand he took,

Whose taper fingers just returned his touch; That it was lovely would you know ?—pray look

At fair Miss Such-an-one's, you love so much, Who has, you think, although you scarce know why, The prettiest little hand beneath the sky!

Well! then he looked into her soft blue eye;
What he saw there I never could suspect,
And it has always filled me with surprise,
Upon the circumstance when I reflect:
I've gazed upon fair eyes till mine grew dim,
Yet never moved they me as hers did him!

I strongly am inclined to think, however,

Those eyes--fond tell-tales we may not control!Gave back to his that glance of love that never Beams save for one-the chosen of the soul— Though all in those sweet eyes he might see hid I know not-I can state but what he did :

He gazed one moment in excess of bliss;

Breathed her loved name in low and gentle tone; Impress'd on her sweet lips one burning kiss,

And each was plighted unto each alone!

Oh! what were words-weak vows of common artTo theirs, the deep BETROTHAL of the Heart!

BEAUTY SILENT.

REPROVE me not, oh! fair and gentle girl,

For that, spell bound, mine eyes upon thy face Too long have lingered ;—deem me not a churl,

Nor turn away, to seek some other place Where I may not offend thee by my gaze, Which, charmed by thy wondrous beauty's blaze, Seeks, as 'twould make its final resting there! For thou art, lady, so surpassing fair, That-as if e'en a vision from on high, Before me suddenly did thus appear

I can but gaze while the fair vision's nighI have no power to withdraw mine eye! But, as the spell-bound, where the serpent plays, I still must look, though death were in the gaze!

Thou smil'st-I am forgiven !—Ah! lady, stay;
I do take back my e'en but uttered prayer ;-
Do not reprove me, sweet one, did I say?—
Nay, chide me, lady, chide me!-On mine ear

Th' accusing accents will but fall, like tones
Of the sweet, sad Æolian, when—the wind
Dying thereon-it breathes those plaintive moans
Which deep, responsive echo only find
In the heart's inner chambers, where the groans
Of the poor broken spirit lie confined!

Ay! chide me, lady!--lips, whose smile, like thine,"
As the clear sunshine, bids the heart rejoice,
Can only part to utter sounds divine;

Then chide me, lady!-let me hear thy voice!

What! tears?-the pearly drops, how fast they come ; Nay, weep not, gentle lady, at my song!

Ha!-SIGNS ?-I might have known that thou wast dumb,

Or thou hadst never silent been so long!

MARY.

"I HAVE a passion for the name of MARY,"
Sang once the greatest bard of modern times;
And so have I!-'tis not imaginary,

And merely said for sake of spinning rhymes,
But honest truth-for of such praise I'm chary,

Save when with truth and honesty it chimes: But sooth to say, the name, I think, is pretty, Alike for country maiden, or for city!

MARY!--There's something in the very sound
That is, to me, exceeding sweet and soothing,
When it is spoken as it should be—round,

And sweetly full, clear-toned, and without mouthing;

And there's another thing that I have found,

And well believe, though some may think it nothing; This gentlest name some magic power possesses, Each lovely owner that adorns and blesses!

I never knew a MARY yet, but what
Had a sweet, amiable way about her;
An almost angel-purity of thought;

Freedom from envy, manners without hauteur ;
Kindness and gentleness, and all that ought
Adorn and ornament Eve's every daughter;
Although alas! that all they do not so,
Both you and I have doubtless cause to know.

But all the MARY'S I can recollect

That I have had acquaintance with in life, Were girls for whom my bosom with respect, If not more tender feeling, has been rife: And hence it strikes me (am I not correct?)

That such an one would make a first rate wife!

So, when I do, unless all prove contrary,

I'll choose me one whose gentle name is MARY!