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Are they shed for that moment of blissful delight.

Which dwells on her memory yet? Do they flow, like the dews of the amorous night,

From the warmth of the sun that has set? Oh! sweet is the tear on that languishing smile,

That smile, which is loveliest then; And if such are the drops that delight can beguile,

Thou shalt weep them again and again !

RONDEAU. “Good night! good night!"-And is it so? And must I from my Rosa go ? O Rosa ! say “Good night!” once more, And I'll repeat it o'er and o'er, Till the first glance of dawning light Shall find us saying still “Good night!" And still “Good night," my Rosa, sayBut whisper still, “A minute stay;" And I will stay, and every minute Shall have an age of rapture in it. We'll kiss and kiss in quick delight, And murmur, while we kiss, “Good night!" “Good night !" you'll murmur with a sigh, And tell me it is time to fly: And I will vow to kiss no more, Yet kiss you closer than before; Till slumber seal our weary sightAnd then, my love! my soul! “Good night!"

THE wisest soul, by anguish torn,

Will soon unlearn the lore it knew :
And when the shrining casket's worn

The gem within will tarnish too.
But love's an essence of the soul,

Which sinks not with this chain of clay :
Which throbs beyond the chill control

Of withering pain or pale decay.
And surely, when the touch of Death

Dissolves the spirit's mortal ties,
Love still attends the soaring breath,

And makes it purer for the skies !
O Rosa ! when, to seek its sphere,

My soul shall leave this orb of men,
That love it found so blissful here

Shall be its best of blisses then !

And, as in fabled dreams of old,

Some airy genius, child of time,
Presided o'er each star that rolled,

And tracked it through its path sublime;
So thou, fair planet, not unled,

Shalt through thy mortal orbit stray ;
Thy lover's shade, divinely wed,

Shall linger round thy wandering way.
Let other spirits range the sky,

And brighten in the solar gem;
I'll bask beneath that lucid eye,

Nor envy worlds of suns to them!
And, oh! if airy shapes may steal

To mingle with a mortal frame,
Then, then, my love !-but drop the veil ;

Hide, hide from Heaven the unholy flame!
No! when that heart shall cease to beat,

And when that breath at length is free;
Then, Rosa, soul to soul we'll meet,

And mingle to eternity!

ANACREONTIC. in lachrymas verterat omne merum.-Tib. lib. i. eleg. 5

Press the grape, and let it pour
Around the board its purple shower ;
And while the drops my goblet steep,
I'll think-in woe the clusters weep.
Weep on, weep on, my pouting vine !
Heaven grant no tears, but tears of ivine.
Weep on; and, as thy sorrows flow,
I'll taste the luxury of woe!

FRIEND of my soul ! this goblet sip.

'Twill chase that pensive tear; 'Tis not so sweet as woman's lip: But, oh! 'tis more sincere. Like her delusive beam,

'Twill steal away thy mind : But, like Affection's dream,

It leaves no sting behind ! Come, twine the wreath, thy brows to shade ;

These flowers were culled at noon ;Like woman's love the rose will fade,

But, ah ! not half so soon!

For though the flower's decayed,

Its fragrance is not o'er;
But once when love's betrayed,

The heart can bloom no more !

CHARITY. “Neither do I condemn thee ; go, and sin no more !"

St. John, chap. viü. O WOMAN! if by simple wile

Thy soul has strayed from honour's track, 'Tis mercy only can beguile,

By gentle ways, the wanderer back. The stain that on thy virtue lies,

Washed by thy tears, may yet decay; As clouds that sully morning skies

May all be wept in showers away. Go, go–be innocent, and live

The tongues of men may wound thee sore; But Heaven in pity can forgive,

And bids thee “ go, and sin no more !”

Eque brevi verbo ferre perenne malum.

Secundus, eleg, vii.
Still the question I must parry,

Still a wayward truant prove :
Where I love, I must not marry ;

Where I marry, cannot love.
Were she fairest of creation,

With the least presuming mind :
Learned without affectation ;

Not deceitful, yet refined ;
Wise enough, but never rigid ;

Gay, but not too lightly free ;
Chaste as snow, and yet not frigid ;

Warm, yet satisfied with me:
Were she all this ten times over,

All that Heaven to earth allows,
I should be too much her lover

Ever to become her spouse.
Love will never bear enslaving ;

Summer garments suit him best :
Bliss itself is not worth having,

If we're by compulsion blest.



I'll ask the sylph who round thee flies,

And in thy breath his pinion dips,
Who suns him in thy lucent eyes,

And faints upon thy sighing lips :
I'll ask him where's the veil of sleep

That used to shade thy looks of light;
And why those eyes their vigil keep,

When other suns are sunk in night.
And I will say—“Her angel breast

Has never throbbed with guilty sting;
Her bosom is the sweetest nest

Where Slumber could repose his wing !”
And I will say—“Her cheeks of flame,

Which glow like roses in the sun,
Have never felt a blush of shame,

Except for what her eyes have done !
“ Then tell me, why, thou child of air !

Does slumber from her eyelids rove?
What is her heart's impassioned care ?--

Perhaps, O sylph ! perhaps 'tis love!

Good reader ! if you e'er have seen,

When Phoebus hastens to his pillow,
The mermaids, with their tresses green,

Dancing upon the western billow :
If you have seen, at twilight dim,
When the lone spirit's vesper hymn

Floats wild along the winding shore :
If you have seen, through mist of eve,
The fairy train their ringlets weave,
Glancing along the spangled green :-

If you have seen all this, and more,
God bless me! what a deal you've seen!


WHEN Time was en twining the garland of years

Which to crown my beloved was given,"
Though some of the leaves might be sullied with tears,

Yet the flowers were all gathered in heaven!

And long may this garland be sweet to the eye,

May its verdure for ever be new!
Young Love shall enrich it with many a sigh,

And Pity shall nurse it with dew!

A far conserva, e cumulo d'amanti.- Past Fid.
AND are you then a thing of art,

Seducing all, and loving none;
And have I strove to gain a heart

Which every coxcomb thinks his own?
And do you (like the dotard's fire,

Which, powerless of enjoying any,
Feeds its abortive sick desire,

By trifling impotent with many)
Do you thus seek to flirt a number,

And through a round of danglers run,
Because your heart's insipid slumber

Could never wake to feel for one ?
Tell me at once if this be true,

And I shall calm my jealous breast;
Shall learn to join the dangling crew,

And share your simpers with the rest.
But if your heart be not so free,-

Oh ! if another share that heart,
Tell not the damning tale to me,

But mingle mercy with your art.
I'd rather think you black as hell

Than find you to be all divine,
And know that heart could love so well,

Yet know that heart would not be mine!

CHLORIS, I swear, by all I ever swore,
That from this hour Í shall not love thee more.-
“What ! love no more? Oh! why this altered vow?"
Because I cannot love thee more-than now!


Mon âme sur mon lèvre étoit lors tout entière.

Pour savourer le miel qui sur la vôtre étoit;
Mais en me retirant, elle resta derrière,

Tant de ce doux plaisir l'amorce l'arrestoit.-Voit.
How heavenly was the poet's doom

To breathe his spirit through a kiss;

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