Those babies that nestle so sly Such different arrows have got, Should I swear by the dew on your lip, I may kiss off the oath when I chuse! Or a sigh .nay disperse from that flower But clear up that heaven of your brow, JULIA'S KISS. WHEN infant Bliss in roses slept, Cupid upon his slumber crept; All these songs were adapted to airs which Mr Little composed, and sometimes sang, for his friends: this may account for the peculiarity of metre observalle in many of them.-E. And, while a balmy sigh he stole, Nay, more; he stole to Venus' bed, In slumber now was acting o'er, From her ripe lips, which seem'd to thrill No, no! that heart is only mine, For I have wed it at a shrine SONG. FLY from the world, O Bessy! to me, Thou 'It never find any sincerer; When your lip has met mine, in abandonment sweet, Have we felt as if Heaven denied them to meet?- So innocent, love! is the pleasure we sip, That I wish all my errors were lodged on your lip, Then come to your lover, oh! fly to his shed, I'll tell thee, it is not the chiding of Heaven, And, oh! when we lie on our death-bed, my love! A sigh from my Bessy shall plead then above, Farewell! let us hope we're forgiven!» SONG. THINK on that look of humid ray, Think, think on every smile and glance, Oh! not to love thee were the sin; For sure, if Heaven's decrees be done, Thou, thou art destined still to win, As I was destined to be won! SONG. A CAPTIVE thus to thee, my girl, When Death shall envy joy like this, Be our last sigh the sigh of bliss, And both our souls exhaled together! THE CATALOGUE. COME, tell me, says Rosa, as, kissing and kiss'd, One day she reclined on my breast; Come, tell me the number, repeat me the list Of the nymphs you have loved and caress'd.» Oh, Rosa! 't was only my fancy that roved, My heart at the moment was free; But I'll tell thee, my girl, how many I've loved! And the number shall finish with thee! My tutor was Kitty; in infancy wild She taught me the way to be blest; She taught me to love her, I loved like a child, But Kitty could fancy the rest. I have had it by rote very often before, Pretty Martha was next, and my soul was all flame, And she laugh'd at her poor little knight; My soul was now calm, till, by Cloris's looks, But Cloris, I found, was so learned in books, And convince us at once with a kiss! Oh! Susan was then all the world unto me, And the worst of it was, we could never agree I devoutly believe there's a heaven on earth, How oft I've languish'd by thy side, My soul was blended with my lyre! Yes, I indeed remember well Those hours of pleasure past and o'er; SONG. WHERE is the nymph, whose azure eye Can shine through rapture's tear? The sun has sunk, the moon is high, And yet she comes not here! Was that her footstep on the hill- Come to me, love, I've wander'd far, 'Tis past the promised hour: Come to me, love, the twilight star Shall guide thee to my bower. SONG. WHEN Time, who steals our years away, Then, Chloe, when thy beauty's flower Shall feel the wintry air, Remembrance will recal the hour When thou alone wert fair! Then talk no more of future gloom; Our joys shall always last; For hope shall brighten days to come, And memory gild the past. My fates had destined me to rove With them would be profane indeed! I now have reach'd THE SHRINE at last! REUBEN AND ROSE. A TALE OF ROMANCE. THE darkness which hung upon Willumberg's walls Has 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, stream Flew back, as if fearing to enter the gloom! Oh! when shall this horrible darkness disperse? Till the bright star of chivalry's sunk in the wave! I should be sorry to think that my friend had any serious intentions of frightening the nursery by this story: I rather hopethough the mauner of it leads me to doubt-that his design was to ridicule that distempered taste which prefers those monsters of the fancy to the speciosa miracula of true poetic imagination. I find, by a note in the manuscript, that he met with this story in A German author, Fromaxx upon Fascination, book iii, part. vi, ch. 18. On consulting the work, I perceive that Fromann quotes it from Beluncensis, among many o her stories equally diabolical and interesting.-E. Upon its marble finger then And now the tennis sports went on, Young Rupert for his wedding-ring Unto the statue went; But, oh how was he shock'd to find The marble finger bent! The hand was closed upon the ring How sore surprised was Rupert's mind,— As well his mind might be; ⚫ I'll come,• quoth he, at night again, When none are here to see. He went unto the feast, and much He thought upon his ring; And much he wonder'd what could mean So very strange a thing! The feast was o'er, and to the court He went without delay, But mark a stranger wonder still- He search'd the base, and all the court, With sore bewilder'd mind. Within he found them all in mirth, The night in dancing flew; The youth another ring procured, And none the adventure knew. And now the priest has join'd their hands, Rupert almost forgets to think Within the bed fair Isabel In blushing sweetness lay, Like flowers half-open'd by the dawn, And waiting for the day. And Rupert, by her lovely side, In youthful beauty glows, Like Phoebus, when he bends to cast And here my song should leave them both, |