• LOVE AND THE NOVICE. "HERE we dwell, in holiest bowers, "Where angels of light o'er our orisons bend; "Where sighs of devotion and breathings of flowers. "To heaven in mingled odour ascend. "Do not disturb our calm, oh Love! "So like is thy form to the cherubs above, "It well might deceive such hearts as ours." Love stood near the Novice and listen'd, And Love is no novice in taking a hint ; Who would have thought," the urchin cries, "That Love could so well, so gravely disguise "His wandering wings and wounding eyes?" Love now warms thee, waking and sleeping, And angels themselves would admit such a guest, WHEN COLD' IN THE EARTH. WHEN cold in the earth lies the friend thou hast lov'd, Be his faults and his follies forgot by thee then: Weep o'er them in silence, and close it again. From the pathways of life he was tempted to roam, From thee and thy innocent beauty first came The revealings, that taught him true love to adore, On his ev'ning horizon, the light was from thee. And though, sometimes, the shades of past folly might rise, And the folly, the falsehood, soon vanish'd away. So, if virtue a moment grew languid in him, He but flew to that smile, and rekindled it there. "TIS sweet to think, that, where'er we rove, Let it grow where it will, cannot flourish alone, It can twine with itself, and make closely its own. Then oh what pleasure, where'er we rove, To be sure to find something, still, that is dear, And to know, when far from the lips we love, We've but to make love to the lips we are near. 'Twere a shame, when flowers around us rise, To make light of the rest, if the rose isn't there; And the world's so rich in resplendent eyes, "Twere a pity to limit one's love to a pair. Love's wing and the peacock's are nearly alike, They are both of them bright, but they're changeable too, And, wherever a new beam of beauty can strike, It will tincture Love's plume with a different hue. Then oh! what pleasure, where'er we rove, To be sure to find something, still, that is dear, And to know, when far from the lips we love, We've but to make love to the lips we are near. ILL OMENS. WHEN daylight was yet sleeping under the billow, For the youth whom she treasur'd her heart and her soul in, And, when once the young heart of a maiden is stolen, As she look'd in the glass, which a woman ne'er misses, A butterfly, fresh from the night-flower's kisses, She brush'd him-he fell, alas! never to rise: "Ah! such," said the girl, " is the pride of our faces, For which the soul's innocence too often dies." While she stole thro' the garden, where heart's-ease was growing, She cull'd some, and kiss'd off its night-fall'n dew; And a rose, farther on, look'd so tempting and glowing, But while o'er the roses too carelessly leaning, Her zone flew in two, and the heart's-ease was lost: "Ah! this means," said the girl (and she sigh'd at its meaning), That love is scarce worth the repose it will cost!" I SAW THY FORM IN YOUTHFUL PRIME. I SAW thy form in youthful prime, Nor thought that pale decay · As streams that run o'er golden mines, Nor seem to know the wealth that shines So veil'd beneath the simplest guise, And that, which charm'd all other eyes, If souls could always dwell above, We ne'er had lost thee here, Mary! To live with them is far less sweet, O'er files array'd With helm and blade, And plumes, in the gay wind dancing! May lead to death, But never to retreating. Oh, the sight entrancing, When morning's beam is glancing O'er files array'd With helm and blade, And plumes in the gay wind dancing. |