PRIDE AND CONSTANCY.

And calmly brook the chilling frown,

That scorns devotion true as mine ;-

Because "I love my love," and I
Must love her, ever, till I die?

No!-if the fervent faith of years
Responsive passion may not move,
I would not win, by sighs and tears,
Her pity, where I sought her love!
I could not be the thing to kneel,

To fawn, to flatter still, and sue-
For all of earthly joy or weal,

Beneath yon Heaven's broad arch of blue:

And yet "I love my love," and I

Will love her, ever, till I die!

But if a simple tale of truth—

Of honest and warm-hearted love, With every fibre woven, from youth, May not suffice her heart to move▬▬

I will not seek to win it more;

I then no further wooing may;

I have of vows no other store,
Than only this-to feel and say
That still "I love my love," and I
Will love her, ever, till I die!

95

TO HER OF THE HAZEL EYE.

"A form of life and light;

Her eyes as stars of twilight fair,
Like twilight too, her dusky hair;

But all things else about her, drawn
From May-time, and the cheerful dawn;

A dancing shape, an image gay,

To haunt, to startle, and waylay!"

MAIDEN of the hazel eye,

WORDSWORTH.

Fawn-like step, and raven hair-Where a thousand graces lie,

Wild and wanton as the air;

By the brightness of those eyes,
That might shame the starry skies ;-
By the darkness of that hair,
Houri-maid were proud to wear ;-
By thy light and graceful form-
Step of yielding buoyancy—
Face, with soul of passion warm--

Heart, from shade of passion free;

TO HER OF THE HAZEL EYE.

By thy pure and gentle mind,
And thy manners, frankly kind;
By all the pretty vows of love,

By lovers ever breathed in song,
Maidens' hearts to win or move;
Maiden, thou hast done me wrong!

I have feelings hopes and fears,

Thoughts of dear and olden time, Mem'ries fond of other years,

When to love was not a crime,—

That would vent themselves in tears,

Did I vent them not in rhyme:

I have penned such hastily,

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Feeling warm, comes cold thought after !—

And thou readest them to me,

Maiden fair, with jest and laughter!

Maiden! 'tis a weary world!

Filled with pain, and grief, and sorrow; Where smiles joy to-day-unfurled, Sorrow's wings may brood to-morrow :

"He who never felt a wound,

At another's scars may jest,"

Soon or later, will be found,

Some stray dart to pierce his breast:

And since sorrow comes to all,

Should it ever come to thee, Thou wilt then, perchance, recall, Thoughts of yesternight, and me!

Yet think, maiden! not, that I,
By this gloomy prophecy
Of our sad and common lot,
Wish thee evil;-think it not!
This the worst I ask for thee,
Take, I pray thee, now, from me:
That, if e'er, in after times,
Disappointment dark be thine—
And thy lone heart's saddened chimes
Steal from thee in idle line—

Then no other may thy rhymes

Read thee, as thou read'st me mine!

AN EPISTLE TO KATE.

"You are called plain Kate,

And bonny Kate, and sometimes Kate the curs'd!
But Kate! the prettiest Kate in Christendom!
Kate of Kate Hall,-my super-dainty Kate,
Take this of me, Kate of my consolation!"

TAMING OF THE SHREW.

FULL five long years, my fairest Kate,

1

Have run their round of joy and wo,

Since first your sunny face I met

Its fair possessor chanced to know; Five years have passed-and in that time

We met and loved, fell out and parted;

66

And you are now a flirt," and I'm

Kind Heaven knows-aught but broken-hearted!

Five years ago! and I had been

Of your sweet self a chance beholder;

You then were sunny "fair fifteen,"

And I, perchance, some five years older: