But let every sigh be repressed, Since mutual our pleasures must be;· The ivy that clings to its breast Is reckoned a part of the tree. And oh! may we never divide, The friends of our earliest years, Have left us our way to pursue; THE VIOLET TO THE ROSE. ENCLOSED in the shade of a forest profound, Where silence and solitude reign, In colours diversified, scattered around, A little wild hamlet of flowers was found, The peasants of Flora's domain, There blue-bells, and daisies, and primroses grew, Their pleasures were simple—their wishes were few, Amid the wild group, in this peaceful recess, A Violet peeped from the earth; But lately indeed she had altered her dress; And some in the hamlet had reason to guess, While they with the breezes at play might be seen, Refusing to join in the sport, She sighed for the garden where Rosa was queen, And despised her pale crest, and her trappings of green, When she heard of the splendours at court. And often at night the disconsolate maid Lamented, by others unseen; Till a fairy from court who frequented the glade, Overheard the complaint that poor And told it again to the queen. Kind Rosa was melted: 66 Violet made, My fairy," said she, "Again you must hasten away, For none of my subjects unhappy shall be ; "Go tell her, assured of our royal support, No longer in sorrow to bend ; Entreat her to smile and to join in their sport, For that blue is a favourite colour at court, And Rosa, the queen, is her friend." Away, on a moonbeam, her message to tell, 'Twas night when she reached little Violet's dell, But each nodding rustic unfolded his bell, To hear what Queen Rosa had said. The Violet trembled such honours to share, Yet pleased that a queen so enchantingly fair "Return gentle spirit - for Rosa will own The tear that from gratitude flows; And tell her that here, in her hamlet alone, Violetta will study, unseen and unknown, Those virtues that sweetly embellish the throne, And love her fair sovereign 1809. the Rose." BIRTH-DAY RETROSPECT. THUS far life's little journey through, I'll take one retrospective view, Before I speed me on. Here, on this little hillock placed, A moment let me standBefore me lies a desert waste; Behind, a fairy land. Winding through yon luxuriant vale, Half hid in distance grey, By many a hill and many a dale But fast those fading scenes retire, And mingle into one; Though here a cot, and there a spire, Still glitter in the sun. And when athwart my wintry sky He darts his latest gleam, Those spots, till closed is memory's eye, Will sparkle in his beam. Yes; happy was my youthful day; My spring, like other springs, was gay, And now, though flying o'er my head Is watered by my tears;· Still Hope, in many a gloomy hour, Has cheered me with the magic power Of her bewitching smile. But Hope, farewell! — thy visions bright Have dazzled me too long; And shall I stay to watch thy flight, And pilgrim-like, with staff and shell, I bid the smiling past farewell, |