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Play'd the guitar—and play'd the fool; This out of tune--that out of rule. I oft at midnight wander'd out, Wrapt up in love—and my capote, To muse on beauty-and the skies, Cold winds—and Leonora's eyes. Alas! when all my gains were told, I'd caught a Tartar*—and a cold. And yet perchance that lovely brow Had still detain's my captive vow; That clear blue eye's enchanting roll Had still enthrall’d my yielding soul ; But suddenly a vision bright Came o’er me in a veil of light, And burst the bond whose fetters bound me, And broke the spell that hung around me, Recall’d the heart that madly roved, And bade me love, and be beloved. Who was it broke the chain and spell ? Dark-eyed Castilian !—thou canst tell !

* The original was a Spanish idiom which we found it impossible to render literally; we believe it comes very near to the English expression which we have substituted.

And am I faithless ?-wo the while, What vow but melts at Rosa's smile ? For broken vows, and faith betrayed, The guilt is thine, Castilian maid !

The tale is told—and I am gone :Think of me, loved and lovely one, When none on earth shall care beside How Carlos lived, or loved, or died ! Thy love on earth shall be to me A bird upon a leafless tree-A bark upon a hopeless waveA lily on a tombless graveA cheering hope-a living ray, To light me on a weary way.

And thus is Love's Confession done ; Give me thy parting benison ; And ere I rise from bended knee, To wander o'er a foreign sea, Alone and friendless,mere I don My pilgrim's hat, and sandal shoon

Dark-eyed Castilian ! let me win
Forgiveness sweet for venial sin ;
Let lonely sighs and dreams of thee,
Be penance for my perjury.

TO JULIA,

PREPARING FOR HER FIRST SEASON IN TOWN.

Julia, while London's fancied bliss Bids you despise a life like this, While — and its joys you leave, For hopes, that flatter to deceive, You will not scornfully refuse, (Though dull the theme, and weak the Muse,) To look upon my line, and hear What Friendship sends to Beauty's ear.

Four miles from Town, a neat abode
O’erlooks a rose-bush, and a road ;
A paling, clean’d with constant care,
Surrounds ten yards of neat parterre,
Where dusty ivy strives to crawl
Five inches up the whiten'd wall.
The open window, thickly set
With myrtle, and with mignionette,
Behind whose cultivated row
A brace of globes peep out for show;

The avenue—the burnish'd plate,
That decks the would-be rustic gate,
Denote the fane where Fashion dwells,
-“ Lyce’s Academy for Belles.”

'Twas here, in earlier, happier days,
Retired from Pleasure's weary maze,
You found, unknown to care or pain,
The peace you will not find again.
Here Friendships, far too fond to last,
A bright, but fleeting radiance cast,
On every sport that Mirth devised,
And every scene that Childhood prized,
And every bliss, that bids you yet
Recall those moments with regret.

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Those friends have mingled in the strife
That fills the busy scene of life,
And Pride and Folly—Cares and Fears,
Look dark upon their future years :
But by their wrecks may Julia learn,
Whither her fragile bark to turn;
And, o'er the troubled sea of fate,
Avoid the rocks they found too late.

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