LYRIC.

OH! say, can it be, thou dost wholly forget
The days of our love and our youth—
Ere the sun of affection had over us set,
Or I ever had doubted thy truth?

Can it be that the light of thy life's early dawn
Is all lost in its mid-day's bright gleam;—

That where love, in thy vision of youth brightly shone,
E'en its record is now but a dream?

In the far-distant clime of the fair, sunny South,
Where the branching magnolia waves,

Dost thou mind thee no more the dear home of our

youth,

And the streamlet it's border that laves?—

That stream on whose banks we delighted to rove,
That home where so oft we have met-

All the thousand sweet mem'ries of youth and first love,
Dost thou wish-canst thou hope-to forget?

CAN I FORGET?

Ah! never!-The rose we may tread in the dust,
But the sting of its thorn will remain ;

The HEART-ah! too true! may be false to its trust,
But the MEM'RY its place will retain !

The sting of remembrance thou canst not remove-
Nor the waters of Lethe renew;

91

Thou hast cast off thine honour, thy troth-plighted love, Hast thou parted with MEMORY too?

CAN I FORGET?

CAN I forget?—

The bright, the bless'd, the golden-winged hours,
When, hand in hand, we roved the sunny bowers
Of childhood's home;-or up the mountain's side,
Or by the streamlet's gently murmuring tide,
Gathered young Spring's first flowers-the fair wild-

rose

And the blue violet, sweetest far that blows ;-
Still nurturing, through each delightful hour,
Love's bud to blossom forth, a fairer flower!

Ah! no! not yet

Those days can I forget!

TIME'S TRANSFORMATION.

I KNEW―ere I had known yet care—

Ah! that was many a year ago !—

A maiden, young and very fair,

With bosom like the driven snow; While o'er her neck her golden hair Waved with a sunny, graceful flow, Just such as yours-and yet, not so,— You are not she I used to know!

Young was she then--but fair fifteen

Why then, methinks, that age were you—

Her dress, it was a kirtle green,

Her bonnet was of azure hue

'Neath which, full often have I seen

Peep two sweet eyes of softest blue,

Eyes such as yours;-yet sure—not so,——
You are not she I used to know!

TIME'S TRANSFORMATION.

Her manners were as frank as kind,
And gentle was she as the dawn;
A purer, or more generous mind

The Summer's sun ne'er shone upon;
And oft in you some trait I find

To mind me of the friend that's gone;
But still, methinks, it can't be so,—
You are not she I used to know!

And yet, at times, you seem to be
The counterpart of her I knew;
And in your walk, you step as she,
Erewhile, exactly used to do;

I've sometimes seen you look at me

With just such eyes of melting blue; Till I have thought it might be so,-That you are she I used to know!

For she was fair-well, so art thou!
She was admired-not more than you!

And still your sunny hair and brow
Seem e'en the very same I knew;
But yet-that love-forgotten vow!
She could not that, for she was TRUE!
Ah! now I feel, indeed, 'tis so,-

You are not she I used to know!

93

PRIDE AND CONSTANCY.

"I love my love!"

I LOVE-ah! all too well-a maid,
As purely chaste as Winter's snow,
On whose fair shrine my hopes were laid,
As on an altar, years ago:

With fond devotion, pure and strong,

To her I've given each gentler thought; I've loved her well-I've loved her long, While she-alas! she loves me not; Yet still "I love my love," and I Will love her, ever, till I die!

And yet, because "I love my love,"
As well, I wot, as mortal can,
Shall, therefore, I myself approve
Unworthy to be called A MAN?
Shall I, forsooth, still bow me down

Before the now forbidden shrine;