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Oh, Huon! when my brow sat cloudy oft O'er my cold eye, that look'd askant at thee, Thou little thought what friend there was
within Would make that brow clear as a summer
sky, That eye, bright glowing as a summer's sun, To kindle thee-as they, their world, with
And health, and wealth, and gladness.
J. S. KNOWLES.
Of all flowers,
comes near her,
BEAUMONT AND FLETCHER.
SHE DWELT AMONG THE UN
She dwelt among the untrodden ways
Beside the springs of Dove, A maid, whom there were none to praise,
And very few to love :
A violet by a mossy stone
Half hidden from the eye! Fair as a star, when only one
Is shining in the sky.
She lived unknown,-and few could know
When Lucy ceased to be:
The difference to me!
SONNET. Go, Valentine, and tell that lovely maid Whom fancy still will portray to my sight, How here I linger in this sullen shade, This dreary gloom of dull monastic night. Say, that, from ev'ry joy of life remote, At evening's closing hour I quit the throng, Listening in solitude the ring-dove's note Who pours like me, her solitary song. Say, that her absence calls the sorrowing
sigh, Say, that of all her charms I love to speak, In fancy feel the magic of her eye, In fancy view the smile illume her cheek, Court the lone hour when silence stills the
grove, And heave the sigh of Memory and of Love.
That now she knows,
Tell her that's young,
That hadst thou sprung
Small is the worth
Bid her come forth,
Then die ! that she
May read in thee;
STANZAS ON WOMAN.
When lovely woman stoops to folly,
And finds too late that men betray, What charm can soothe her melancholy?
What art can wash her guilt away ?
The only art her guilt to cover,
To hide her shame from every eye, To give repentance to her lover,
And wring his bosom ismto die.
Love is a plant of holier birth