G SONG. O, lovely rose! Tell her, that wastes her time and me, That now she knows, When I resemble her to thee, How sweet and fair she seems to be. Tell her, that's young In deserts where no men abide, Small is the worth Of beauty from the light retired: Suffer herself to be desired, And not blush so to be admired. Then die! that she The common fate of all things rare How small a part of time they share. EDMUND WALLER. MY TAM GLEN. Y heart is a-breaking, dear Tittie! Some counsel unto me come len'; To anger them a' is a pity, But what will I do wi' Tam Glen? I'm thinking, wi' sic a braw fallow, If I may not marry Tam Glen? There's Laurie the laird o' Drumeller, "Guid day to you,”-brute! he comes ben: He brags and he blaws o' his siller, But when will he dance like Tam Glen ? My minnie does constantly deave me, My daddie says, gin I'll forsak' him Yestreen at the Valentine's dealing My heart to my mou' gied a sten; The last Halloween I lay waukin My droukit sark-sleeve, as ye ken, His likeness cam up the house staulkin, Come counsel, dear Tittie,-don't tarry! BURNS. ODE TO EVENING. F aught of oaten stop or pastoral song ear (Like thy own solemn springs, Thy springs, and dying gales); modest O Nymph reserved,—while now the bright-hair'd sun Sits in yon western tent, whose cloudy skirts, O'erhang his wavy bed, And air is hush'd, save where the weak-eyed bat With short shrill shriek flits by on leathern wing, Or where the beetle winds His small but sullen horn, As oft he rises 'midst the twilight path, To breathe some soften'd strain, Whose numbers, stealing through thy darkening vale, May not unseemly with its stillness suit, As, musing slow, I hail Thy genial, loved return! For when thy folding-star arising shows Who slept in buds the day, And many a Nymph who wreathes her brow with sedge And sheds the freshening dew, and, lovelier still, The pensive Pleasures sweet, Prepare thy shadowy car. Then let me rove some wild and heathy scene; Or find some ruin 'midst its dreary dells, Whose walls more awful nod By thy religious gleams. Or if chill blustering winds or driving rain Views wilds, and swelling floods, And hamlets brown, and dim-discover'd spires, The gradual dusky veil. While Spring shall pour his showers, as oft he wont, And bathe thy breathing tresses, meekest Eve! While Summer loves to sport Beneath thy lingering light: While sallow Autumn fills thy lap with leaves, And rudely rends thy robes, [Till thou hast refuged where the cheerful glow Bids welcome, and the wind-unshaken lamp, To household mirth and song, And dear domestic joy :] So long, regardful of thy quiet rule, Shall Fancy, Friendship, Science, smiling Peace, Thy gentlest influence own, And love thy favourite name! WILLIAM COLLINS. Y [LOSS.] OU thought my heart too far diseased; You wonder when my fancies play To find me gay among the gay, Like one with any trifle pleased. The shade by which my life was crost, Whose feet are guided through the land, He plays with threads, he beats his chair His night of loss is always there. In Memoriam. |