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IX. Thy gentle mother turned away to hide her face from

me, And murmured low of Heaven's behests, and bliss

attained by thee ;She would have chid me that I mourned a doom so

blest as thine, Had not her own deep grief burst forth in tears as

wild as mine!

X. We laid thee down in thy sinless rest, and from thine

infant brow Culled one soft lock of radiant hair-our only solace

now,Then placed around thy beauteous corse, flowers

not more fair and sweetTwin rose-buds in thy little hands, and jasmine at thy


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Though other offspring still be ours, as fair perchance

as thou, With all the beauty of thy cheek--the sunshine of the

brow,They never can replace the bud our early fondness

nurst, They may be lovely and beloved, but not like thee-the first!

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The First! How many a memory bright that one

sweet word can bring, Of hopes that blossomed, drooped, and died, in life's

delightful spring ;Of fervid feelings passed away-those early seeds of

bliss, That germinate in hearts unseared by such a world

as this!


My sweet ons., my sweet one, my Fairest and my

First ! When I thiuk of what thou mightst have been, my

heart is like to burst; But gleams of gladness through my gloom their

soothing radiance dart, And my sighs are hushed, my tears are dried, when I

turn to what thou art!

XIV. Pure as the snow-flake ere it falls and takes the stain

of earth, With not a taint of mortal life except thy mortal

birth, God bade thee early taste the spring for which sợ

many thirst, And bliss-eternal bliss—is tbine, my Fairest and my




FRIEND after friend departs;

Who hath not lost a friend ?
There is no union here of hearts

That finds not here an end;
Were this frail world our final rest,
Living or dying none were blest.

Beyond the flight of time,

Beyond the reign of death,
There surely is some blessed clime

Where life is not a breath;
Nor life's affections transient fire,
Whose sparks fly upwards and expire !

There is a world above

Where parting is unknown;
A long eternity of love

Formed for the good alone;
And faith beholds the dying here
Translated to that glorious sphere!

Thus star by star declines,

Till all are past away ;
As morning high and higher shines

To pure and perfect day :
Nor sink those stars in empty night,
But hide themselves in Heaven's own light.



Soiled, but with no inglorious dust, by tomes
Beseeming well the churchman to explore,
Of venerable Fathers, mid whose lore
From proof to proof the eye enraptured roams;
Or crimsoned with the blood, that spouts its foams
Where the frocked gladiators rave and roar-
How shall I my unworthy hand fling o'er
The gentle Lyre, or crop the muse's blooms ?
Ill may the fingers, by polemie thorn
Festered, essay the magic shell to sweep,
Or (all unused) the glittering wreath entwine: .
Yet will I, at thy bidding, brave the scorn
Of mightier bards, and climb proud Delphi's steep,
And lay my chaplet in loved Phæbus' shrine.



One eve of beauty, when the sun,

Was on the streams of Guadalquiver, To gold converting, one by one,

The ripples of the mighty river; Beside me on the bank was seated *A Seville girl with auburn hair, And eyes that might the world have cheated, · A wild, bright, wicked, diamond pair !

She stooped, and wrote upon the sand,

Just as the loving sun was going, With such a soft, small, shining hand,

I could have sworn 'twas silver flowing. Her words were three, and not one more,

What could Diana's motto be ? The Syren wrote upon the shore

"Death, not inconstancy!'

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