THE SALE OF LOVES.

I DREAMT that, in the Paphian groves,
My nets by moonlight laying,
I caught a flight of wanton Loves,
Among the rose-beds playing.
Some just had left their silv'ry shell,

While some were full in feather;
So pretty a lot of Loves to sell,
Were never yet strung together.
Come buy my Loves,

Come buy my Loves,

Ye dames and rose-lipp'd misses !—
They're new and bright,

The cost is light,

For the coin of this isle is kisses.

First Cloris came, with looks sedate,
Their coin on her lips was ready;

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I buy," quoth she "my Love by weight,
Full grown, if you please, and steady."
Let mine be light," said Fanny, "pray----
Such lasting toys undo one;

A light little Love that will last to-day.--
To-morrow I'll sport a new one."

Come buy my Loves,

Come buy my Loves,

Ye dames and rose-lipp'd misses

There's some will keep,

Some light and cheap,

At from ten to twenty kisses.

The learned Prue took a pert young thing, To divert her virgin Muse with,

And pluck sometimes a quill from his wing, To indite her billet-doux with.

Poor Cloe would give for a well-fledg'd pair
Her only eye, if you'd ask it;

And Tabitha begged, old toothless fair,
For the youngest Love in the basket.
Come buy my Loves, &c. &c.

But one was left, when Susan came,
One worth them all together;

At sight of her dear looks of shame,
He smil❜d, and prun'd his feather.
She wish'd the boy 'twas more than whim-
Her looks, her sighs betray'd it;

But kisses were not enough for him,
I ask'd a heart, and she paid it!
Good-by, my Loves,

Good-by, my Loves,

'Twould make you smile to've seen us First trade for this

Sweet child of bliss,

And then nurse the boy between us.

TO ROSA.

WRITTEN DURING ILLNESS.

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 with'ring pain or pale decay.

And surely, when the touch of Death
Dissolves the spirit's earthly ties,
Love still attends th' immortal breath,
And makes it purer for the skies!

Oh Rosa, when, to seek its sphere,

My soul shall leave this orb of men, That love which form'd its treasure here, Shall be its best of treasures then!

And as, in fabled dreams of old,

Some air-born genius, child of time,

Presided o'er each star that roll'd,

And track'd it through its path sublime;

So thou, fair planet, not unled,

Shalt through thy mortal orbit stray;

Thy lover's shade, to thee still wed,
Shall linger round thy earthly way.

Let other spirits range the sky,

And play around each starry gem;
I'll bask beneath that lucid eye,
Nor envy worlds of suns to them.

And 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!

THE darkness that hung upon Willumberg's walls
Had long been remember'd with awe and dismay;
For years not a sunbeam had play'd in its halls,
And it seem'd as shut out from the regions of day.

Though the valleys were brighten'd by many a beam,
Yet none could the woods of that castle illume;
And the lightning, which flash'd on the neighbouring stream.
Flew back, as if fearing to enter the gloom!

Oh! when shall this horrible darkness disperse!"
Said Willumberg's lord to the Seer of the Cave;---

'It can never dispel," said the wizard of verse,

Till the bright star of chivalry sinks in the wave!"

And who was the bright star of chivalry then?

Who could be but Reuben, the flow'r of the age?

For Reuben was first in the combat of men,
Though Youth had scarce written his name on her page.

For Willumberg's daughter his young heart had beat,--
For Rose, who was bright as the spirit of dawn,
When with wand dropping diamonds, and silvery feet,
It walks o'er the flow'rs of the mountain and lawn.

That hero could smile at the terrors of death,

When he felt that he died for the sire of his Rose;
To the Oder he flew, and there, plunging beneath,
In the depth of the billows soon found his repose.

How strangely the order of destiny falls-
Not long in the waters the warrior lay,
When a sunbeam was seen to glance over the walls,
And the castle of Willumberg bask'd in the ray!

All, all but the soul of the maid was in light,

There sorrow and terror lay gloomy and blank ;
Two days did she wander, and all the long night,
In quest of her love, on the wide river's bank.

Oft, oft did she pause for the toll of the bell,
And heard but the breathings of night in the air;

Long, long did she gaze on the watery swell,

And saw but the foam of the white billow there.

And often as midnight its veil would undraw,

As she look'd at the light of the moon in the stream, She thought 'twas his helmet of silver she saw,

As the curl of the surge glitter'd high in the bean.

And now the third night was begemming the sky;
Poor Rose, on the cold dewy margent reclin'd,
There wept till the tear almost froze in her eye,

When, hark!—'twas the bell that came deep in the wind'

She startled, and saw, through the glimmering shade,
A form o'er the waters in majesty glide;

She knew 'twas her love, though his cheek was decay'd
And his helmet of silver was wash'd by the tide.

Was this what the Seer of the Cave had foretold?
Dim, dim through the phantom the moon shot a gleam;
'Twas Reuben, but, ah! he was deathly and cold,
And fleeted away like the spell of a dream!