ARIADNE.

THE moist and quiet morn was scarcely break

ing,

When Ariadne in her bower was waking;

Her eyelids still were closing, and she heard
But indistinctly yet a little bird,

That in the leaves o'erhead, waiting the sun,
Seemed answering another distant one.
She waked, but stirred not, only just to please
Her pillow-nestling cheek; while the full seas,
The birds, the leaves, the lulling love o'er-
night,

The happy thought of the returning light,
The sweet, self-willed content, conspired to
keep

Her senses lingering in the field of sleep;
And with a little smile she seemed to say,
"I know my love is near me, and 't is day.”

LEIGH HUNT.

OF

ARABELLA.

a fair town where Doctor Rack was guide, His only daughter was the boast and pride;

Wise Arabella, yet not wise alone,

She like a bright and polished brilliant shone;

Her father owned her for his prop and stay,
Able to guide, yet willing to obey ;

Pleased with her learning while discourse could please,

And with her love in languor and disease:

To every mother were her virtues known,
And to their daughters as a pattern shown:
Who in her youth had all that age requires,
And with her prudence, all that youth admires.

This reasoning Maid, above her sex's dread, Had dared to read, and dared to say she read, Not the last novel, not the new-born play ; Not the mere trash and scandal of the day, But (though her young companions felt the shock)

She studied Berkeley, Bacon, Hobbes, and
Locke:

Her mind within the maze of history dwelt,
And of the moral Muse the beauty felt :
The merits of the Roman page she knew,
And could converse with More and Montagu :
Thus she became the wonder of the town,
From that she reaped, to that she gave renown,
And strangers coming, all were taught t' admire
The learned lady, and the lofty spire.

GEORGE CRABBE.

From "Arabella."

AUGUSTA.

"Incedit regina !"

"HANDSOME and haughty!”. '-a comment

that came

From lips which were never accustomed to malice;

A girl with a presence superb as her name,

And charmingly fitted for love-in a palace! And oft I have wished (for in musing alone One's fancy is apt to be very erratic)

That the lady might wear-No!

own

I never will

A thought so decidedly undemocratic !— But if 't were a coronet-this I 'll aver,

No duchess on earth could more gracefully wear it ;

And even a democrat, thinking of her,

Might surely be pardoned for wishing to share it!

JOHN G. SAXE.

AURELIA.

WITH gazing on those charms of thine,

My soul grows sad and faint;

But, turning to Saint Valentine,

Who is a gentle saint,

Said I, the fair Aurelia keeps

Her spirit locked from me :

Oh, show my weary heart the hook
On which she hangs the key!

Her breast is like a frozen lake,
On whose cold brink I stand;

Oh, buckle on my spirit's skates,
And take me by the hand!
And lead thou, loving saint, the way
To where the ice is thin,

That it may break beneath my feet
And let a lover in.

I see the honey on her lip,-
Have pity, saint, on me,
And turn a lonely gentleman

Into a humble-bee.

Why is it that an eye whose light
Should feed but bright-hued petals,
In my poor heart makes only night,
And grows but stinging nettles?

Whatever men have sung of old

Of Cynthia or Amelia,

Seems flat, and tame, and dull, and cold,
To paint the young Aurelia.

All voices in my dreams seem hers,

And, through my fancies looming,

a

All other forms put on the form
Of bright Aurelia's blooming.

Help, help, from thee, Saint Valentine!
Bring forth thy strongest spell,
Go boldly to her soul's shut gate,
And ring her spirit's bell,
That she may ope the door at last
Unto my long desire,

And I take up my chair for life
Beside her young heart's fire.

THOMAS KIBBLE HERVEY.

"Aurelia: A Valentine."

AURORA.

OH,

H, if thou knew'st how thou thyself dost harm,

And dost prejudge thy bliss, and spoil my

rest;

Then thou wouldst melt the ice out of thy

breast

And thy relenting heart would kindly warm.

Oh, if thy pride did not our joys control,

What world of loving wonders shouldst thou see!