TO A WREATH OF DEAD FLOWERS. Shewn to me by a Friend, on his return from Abroad, to whom I ̧ had given them, in bloom, on the eve of his departure. PALE, fragile flowerets! I remember ye, In all your pride of fragrant witchery; Winging the breeze with perfume soft and sweet, No sweetness left for any other one,-- Your pomp of purple, in your paler pall; Braving the restless ocean;-for the sea, From off its glorious face, into the air, Or whelm it in its own blue shining depths! Like that, this moment, o'er the billows fading, The vessel glided onwards!-onwards still, The little wavelets-lighted by the moon, Or ride, like snow-flakes, on the dancing waves !- All else a waste--of water or of plain, What boots it which!—and the glad land-cry comes FROM THE SPANISH OF FRANCISCO DE LA TORRE. 1. BEAUTIFUL is my nymph, if gay she spread Her golden hair, dishevelled on the wind; Beautiful, if, in the disdain I dread, Estranged, she turus from me her eyes unkind. 2. Beautiful angry,-beautiful when glad,- 3. Beautiful, when she stills the storms and seas, She smiles as angels who were sad before. 4. A nymph whose beauty, amiable and calm, Can it be found in what consists the charm W. CONSTANCE. A TALE. "Notwithstanding, these citizens of Gaunt, in all their publike actions, have ever shewed more grosse folly than cunning, and no marvel; for they that carrie credit and authority among them, are for the most part wealthy men, of occupation, vnaquainted with waightie affaires, and little vnderstanding what belongeth to the gouernment of a state. Their cunning consisteth but in two points: the one, that they studie, by all means possible, how to weaken and impouerish their prince; the other, that when they have made a fault, and finde the partie offended too strong for them, they craue pardon with greater humiliation, and buie peace with larger gifts than any people in the world." Philip De Commines. "HE is taken! the minion of the tyrant is secured! see, Constance! they are bringing him down the street," exclaimed Martin Jansens; "here, Brawn! Peterkin! my gown and wand of office! I must follow my father to the town house, where the burgesses will sit in consultation." Constance Lindorf, left alone by the departure of her kinsman, approached the window with trembling |