LINES ON A LADY'S LIKENESS.

I GAZE on beauty 'passing far,
The silvery twinkle of the star;
Lovelier than the moonbeam's smile
On the snowy surges pile;
Brighter than the summer noon,
Fairer than the lily's bloom;
Sweeter hues adorn that cheek,

Than in roses we should seek;
Yet words are wanting, and that sigh,
To give the fond reality.

Those eye-brows emulate the bow,

Those pearly teeth are white as snow;

Orient drops of dew are set,

Mid thy clustering curls of jet;

That dark lash 'shrouds the bright eye's fire,

'Fore which the blushing stars expire ;

And that pure bosom seems to glow,

Like heaving hills of purest snow:
Yet words are wanting and that sigh,
To give the fond reality.

SHE FALSELY TOLD ME THAT HE LOV'D.

SHE falsely told me that he lov'd another more than I, I reck'd not then whatever was my future destiny;

I left my home and wander'd far, to other climes away, And join'd me with the giddy throng, and mingled with

the gay;

But ah! I tried fair scenes in vain, to heal the lingering

smart,

Those scenes of pleasure deeper fix'd, the poinard in my heart.

I left those halls of mirth and came, back to my native

vale,

I visited my roseate bower, to sigh upon the gale;

I mention'd not his much-lov'd name, as sad I wander'd

there,

I breath'd no melancholy plaint upon the silent air;
But with my tears bedew'd those flowers, he kindly gave

to me,

In love's young days of bliss and joy, of rapturous mirth and glee.

I trac'd the sweetly murmuring stream, where we were wont to rove,

Where first we met at balmy eve, to breathe pure vows of love;

Methought I heard them still, but ah! alas! it ne'er can

be,

The dream's too full of bliss for truth, too bright the phantasy;

Methought I saw his manly form, his eye of fire the same, Delirium seiz'd my burning head, I call'd upon his name.

He heard it for 'twas he himself, who swiftly fled to

me,

And prest me to his trembling breast, with raptur'd ec

stacy;

He told me that in foreign lands, he'd sought for me in

vain,

And truly lov'd, and hither rov'd, to view these scenes

again;

Where tales were told to ravish'd ears, and kisses sweetly

given,

And vows of love eternal, breath'd, before the face of heaven.

THE FORSAKEN TO THE FALSE ONE.

He came with soft and winning words,

He came with sweetest grace;
He press'd my white and lily hand,
And kiss'd my glowing face;
He call'd me dear, and as he gave,

His presents unto me,

He prest me to his throbbing breast,

With thrilling ecstacy.

He trac'd with me the winding stream,
And often thro' the grove

He rov'd with me, and sung his glees,
And sweetly whisper'd-love:
I lov'd him well, and vainly thought,
He fondly lov'd me too;

But ah! alas! full soon I prov'd,
His vows were all untrue.

He fled my fond embrace, and's gone
Across the foaming sea;

Some other fair, to ruin there,

As he has ruin'd me:

A curse light on the perjur'd wretch,

And misery be his lot;

Since he has left me desolate,

And I am all forgot.

For oh! the hand of scorn will point
At all my guilt and shame;
And how shall I support my head,

When blasted is my name :

An outcast neath the storms of heaven,
A wanderer I must roam;

A Mother's look, a Father's curse,
Will drive me from my home.

False, cruel wretch! around thy head,
May storms and thunders pour;
And whirlwinds hurl thee-stay, stay, stay!
What would I pray for more?

Oh! answer not those prayers, my God!

But bless him, and forgive; May misery never be his lot,

But bliss wherere he live.

N

TO A STREAMLET.

HAIL! sweet streamlet, gently flowing,
Dost thou mingle with the streams,
Where the weeping willows growing,
Lave their boughs when Phebe beams;

Where I and Matilda vowing,

Walk along their flowery side;

Where the storms and rude winds blowing,
Hush'd to silence gently ride?

Whisper neath the drooping willows,
Love and 'Tilda's all my song.

THE JOYS OF LOVE.

Он! who can speak the joys of love,

That flow spontaneous from the heart;

Or who can purer pleasures prove,

Than those which spring from Cupid's dart?.

Let noisy Bacchanals enjoy,

Their midnight revels and their wine;

And Epicures their luxury,

But give me pleasures more divine.