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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
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!
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
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
BY JAMES MONTGOMERY, Esg.
FRIEND after friend departs;
Who hath not lost a friend ?
That finds not here an end;
Beyond the flight of time,
Beyond the reign of death,
Where life is not a breath;
There is a world above
Where parting is unknown;
Formed for the good alone;
Thus star by star declines,
Till all are past away ;
To pure and perfect day :
BY THE ARCHDEACON WRANGHAM.
Soiled, but with no inglorious dust, by tomes
FROM THE SPANISH.
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!'