From whence it can be fairly traced Through many a branch and many a bough, From twig to twig, until graced The snowy hand that wears it now. All this I'll prove, and then-to you, To dedicate th' important chronicle. Long may your ancient inmates give Let no pedantic fools be there, For ever be those fops abolished, With heads as wooden as thy ware, And, Heaven knows! not half so poiished. But still receive the mild, the gay, The few who know the rare delight Of reading Grammont every day, ΤΟ NEVER mind how the pedagogue proses, The lip that's so scented by roses Old Chloe, whose withering kisses Young Sappho, for want of employments, But for you to be buried in books— Astronomy finds in your eye Better light than she studies above, And Music must borrow your sigh As the melody dearest to love. In Ethics-'tis you that can check, In a minute, their doubts and their quarrels ; Oh! show but that mole on your neck, And 'twill soon put an end to their morals. Your Arithmetic only can trip When to kiss and to count you endeavour; But Eloquence glows on your lip When you swear that you'll love me for ever. Thus you see what a brilliant alliance A course of more exquisite science And oh! if a fellow like me May confer a diploma of hearts, With my lip thus I seal your degree, My divine little Mistress of Arts! SONG. SWEETEST love! I'll not forget thee, Yet, oh yet again we'll meet, love, Still I feel my heart is breaking, Calm to peace thy lover's bosom- Farewell, Bessy! DID NOT. "TWAS a new feeling-something mors Which then we hid not; And wished, in every half-breathed sigh, She felt my lips' impassioned touch; But whispered o'er my burning brow, AT NIGHT.* AT night, when all is still around, Of footstep, coming soft and light! That foot that comes so soft at night! And then, at night, how sweet to say "Tis late, my love!" and chide delay, Though still the western clouds are bright; Oh! happy, too, the silent press, The eloquence of mute caress, With those we love exchanged at night! DEAR FANNY. "SHE has beauty, but still you must keep your heart cool; She has wit, but you mustn't be caught so:" Thus Reason advises, but Reason's a fool, And 'tis not the first time I have thought so; Dear Fanny, 'Tis not the first time I have thought so. "She is lovely; then love her, nor let the bliss fly; Dear Fanny, Love reasons much better than Reason. HERE'S THE BOWER. HERE'S the bower she loved so much, Here's the harp she used to touch- These lines allude to a curious lamp, which has for its device a Cupid, with the words "At Night" written over him. Roses now unheeded sigh; Where's the hand to wreathe them? Songs around neglected lie; Where's the lip to breathe them? Spring may bloom, but she we loved Years were days when here she strayed, Here's the bower, &c. I SAW THE MOON RISE CLEAR. A FINLAND LOVE SONG. I SAW the moon rise clear O'er hills and vales of snow That path which leads to you. How soon the heart forgets, LOVE AND THE SUN-DIAL. YOUNG Love found a Dial once in a dark shade, Where man ne'er had wandered nor sun-beam played; Why thus in darkness lie," whispered young Love; "Thou whose gay hours in sunshine should move?" "I ne'er," said the Dial, "have seen the warm sun; So noonday and midnight to me, Love, are one." Then Love took the Dial away from the shade, And placed her where heaven's beam warmly played. There she reclined, beneath Love's gazing eye, While, all marked with sunshine, her hours flew by. "Oh how," said the Dial, can any fair maid, That's born to be shone upon, rest in the shade?" But night now comes on, and the sunbeam's o'er. LOVE AND TIME. "TIS said-but whether true or not But short the moments, short as brigin, If Time to-day has had its flight, When one begins to limp again, Then is Love's hour to stray; But there's a nymph, whose chains I feel, Who knows, the dear one, how to deal So well she checks their wanderings, So peacefully she pairs 'em, That Love with her ne'er thinks of wings This is Time's holiday; LOVE'S LIGHT SUMMER-CLOUD. Each hour I number o'er- Worthy of thee, |