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Oft by that yew, on the blasted field,

Demons dance to the red moon's light;
While the damp boughs creak, and the swinging shield

Sings to the raving spirit of night!

ELEGIAC STANZAS,

SUPPOSED TO BE WRITTEN BY JULIA, ON THE DEATH OF HER BROTHER,

Though sorrow long has worn my heart;

Though every day I've counted 'o'er
Has brought a new and quickening smart

To wounds that rankled fresh before ;
Though in my earliest life bereft

Of many a link by nature tied ;
Though hope deceived, and pleasure left;

Though friends betrayed, and foes belied;
I still had hopes—for hope will stay

After the sunset of delight;
So like the star which ushers day

We scarce can think it heralds night!
I hoped that, after all its strife,

My weary heart at length should rest.
And, fainting from the waves of life,

Find harbour in a brother's breast.

That brother's breast was warm with truth,

Was bright with honour's purest ray;
He was the dearest, gentlest youth-

Oh! why then was he torn away?
He should have stayed, have lingered here,

To calm his Julia's every woe;
He should have chased each bitter tear,

And not have caused those tears to flow.
We saw his youthful soul expand

In blooms of genius, nursed by taste;
While Science, with a fostering hand,

Upon his brow her chaplet placed.
We saw his gradual-opening mind

Enriched by all the graces dear;
Enlightened, social, and refined,

In friendship firm, in love sincere.
Such was the youth we loved so well ;

Such were the hopes that fate ilenied-
We loved, but ah! we could not tell

How deep, how dearly, till he died !

Close as the fondest links could strain,

Twined with my very heart he grew; And by that fate which breaks the chain,

The heart is almost broken too!

A NIGHT THOUGHT.
How oft a cloud, with envious veil,

Obscures yon bashful light,
Which seems so modestly to steal

Along the waste of night!
'Tis thus the world's obtrusive wrongs

Obscure with malice keen
Some timid heart, which only longs

To live and die unseen!

ELEGIAC STANZAS.

Sic juvat perire.
WAEN wearied wretches sink to sleep,

How heavenly soft their slumbers lie!
How sweet is death to those who weep,

To those who weep and long to die! Saw you the soft and grassy bed,

Where flowerets deck the green earth's breast? 'Tis there I wish to lay my head,

'Tis there I wish to sleep at rest! Oh! let not tears embalm my tomb,

None but the dews by twilight given ! Oh! let not sighs disturb the gloom,

None but the whispering winds of heaven!

THE KISS.
Grow to my lip, thou sacred kiss,
On which my soul's beloved swore
That there should come a time of bliss
When she would mock my hopes no more;
And fancy shall thy glow renew,
In sighs at morn,

and dreams at night,
And none shall steal thy holy dew
Till thou’rt absolved by rapture's rite.
Sweet hours that are to make me blest,
Oh! fly, like breezes, to the goal,
And let my love, my more than soul,
Come panting to this fevered breast;
And while in every glance I drink
The rich o'erflowings of her mind,

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TO
With all my soul, then, let us part,

Since both are anxious to be free;
And I will send you home your heart,

If you will send back mine to me. We've had some happy hours together,

But joy must often change its wing ; And spring would be but gloomy weather,

If we had nothing else but spring. 'Tis not that I expect to find

A more devoted, fond, and true one, With rosier cheek or sweeter mind

Enough for me that she's a new one. Thus let us leave the bower of love,

Where we have loitered long in bliss; And you may down that pathway rove,

While I shall take my way through this. Our hearts have suffered little harm

In this short fever of desire; You have not lost a single charm,

Nor I one spark of feeling fire. My kisses have not stained the rose

Which Nature hung upon your lip; And still your sigh with nectar flows

For many a raptured soul to sip. Farewell ! and when some other fair

Shall call your wanderer to her arms, 'Twill be my luxury to compare

ller spells with your remembered charms “This cheek," I'll say, “is not so bright

As one that used to meet my kiss ; This eye has not such liquid light

As one that used to talk of bliss !” Farewell ! and when some future lover

Shall claim the heart which I resign, And in exulting joys discover

All the charms that once were mine;
I think I should be sweetly blest,

If, in a soft imperfect sigh,
You'd say, while to his bosom prest,

He loves not half so well as I !

A REFLECTION AT SEA.
See how, beneath the moonbeam's smile,

Yon little billow heaves its breast,
And foams and sparkles for a while,

And murmuring then subsides to rest.
Thus man, the sport of bliss and care,

Rises on Time's eventful sea,
And, having swelled a moment there,

Thus melts into eternity !

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A CHALLENGE.
Come, tell me where the maid is found,

Whose heart can love without deceit,
And I will range the world around,

sigh one moment at her feet.
Oh! tell me where's her sainted home,

What air receives her blessèd sigh,
A pilgrimage of years I'll roam
To catch

one sparkle of her eye!
And if her cheek be rosy bright,

While truth within her bosom lies,
I'll gaze upon her morn and night,

Till my heart leave me through my eyes!
Show me on earth a thing so rare,

I'll own all miracles are true ;
To make one maid sincere and fair,

Oh ! 'tis the utmost Heaven can do!

SONG.
If I swear by that eye, you'll allow

Its look is so shifting and new
That the oath I might take on it now

The very next glance would undo!
Those babies that nestle so sly

Such different arrows have got
That an oath on the glance of an eye

Such as yours may be off in a shot !
Should I swear by the dew on your lip,

Though each moment the treasure renews,
If my constancy wishes to trip,

I may kiss off the oath when I choose !
Or a sigh may disperse from that flower

The dew and the oath that are there !
And I'd make a new vow every hour,

To lose them so sweetly in air !

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But clear up that heaven of your brow,

Nor fancy my faith is a feather ;
On my heart I will pledge you my vow,

And they both must be broken together!

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ΤΟ.
REMEMBER him thou leavest behind,

Whose heart is warmly bound to thee,
Close as the tenderest links can bind

A heart as warm as heart can be.
Oh! I had long in freedom roved,

Though many seemed my soul to share;
'Twas passion when I thought I loved,

'Twas fancy when I thought them fair. E'en she, my muse's early theme,

Beguiled me only while she warmed ; 'Twas young Desire that fed the dream,

And reason broke what passion formed But thou-ah! better had it been

If I had still in freedom roved, If I had ne'er thy beauties seen,

For then I never should have loved ! Then all the pain which lovers feel

Had never to my heart been known; But, ah ! the joys which lovers steal,

Should they have ever been my own? Oh! trust me, when I swear thee this,

Dearest ! the pain of loving thee, The very pain, is sweeter bliss

Than passion's wildest ecstasy! That little cage I would not part,

In which my soul is prisoned now, For the most light and winged heart

That wantons on the passing vow. Still, my beloved ! still keep in mind,

However far removed from me, That there is one thou leavest behind,

Whose heart respires for only thee !
And though ungenial ties have bound

Thy fate unto another's care ;
That arm, which clasps thy bosom round,

Cannot confine the heart that's there.
No, no! that heart is only mine

By ties all other ties above, For I have wed it at a shrine

Where we have had no priest but Love !

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