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The bride kissed the goblet; thc knight took Unheralded she came and went,
Like music in the silent night, He quaffed off the wine, and he threw down Which, when the burthened air is spent,
Bequeaths to memory its delight. She looked down to blush, and she looked up to sigh,
Or like the sudden April bow With a smile on her lips, and a tear in her
That spans the violet-waking rain,
She bade those blessed flowers to grow eye. He took her soft hand, ere her mother could
Which may not fall or fade again. “Now tread we a measure,” said young
Far sweeter than all things most sweet,
And fairer than all things most fair,
She came and passed with foot-steps fleet,
A shining wonder in the air. So stately his form, and so lovely her face,
THOMAS BUCHANAN READ. That never a hall such a galliard did grace ; While her mother did fret and her father did
fume, And the bridegroom stood dangling his bon
ABSENCE. net and plume,
'TIS not the loss of love's assurance, And the bride-maidens whispered: "'Twere It is not doubting what thou art, better by far
But 'tis the too, too long endurance To have matched our fair cousin with young Of absence, that afflicts the heart. Lochinvar."
The fondest thoughts two hearts can cherish, One touch to her hand, and one word in her
When each is lonely doomed to weep,
Are fruits on desert isles that perish, ear, When they reached the hall-door, and the
Or riches buried in the deep. charger stood near; So light to the croupe the fair lady he swung,
What though untouched by jealous madness, So light to the saddle before her he sprung:
Our bosom's peace may fall to wreck, “She is won! we are gone over bank, bush, Th’undoubting heart, that breaks with sadand scaur;
ness, They'll have fleet steeds that follow," quoth
Is but more slowly doomed to break. young Lochinvar.
Absence! is not the soul torn by it There was mounting 'mong Graemes of the
From more than light, or life, or breath? Netherby clan;
'Tis Lethe's gloom, but not its quiet,Fosters, Fenwicks, and Musgraves, they rode
The pain without the peace of death. and they ran ;
THOMAS CAMPBELL. There was racing and chasing on Cannobie
HE stood breast-high amid the corn, So daring in love, and so dauntless in war,
Clasped by the golden light of morn, Have ye e'er heard of gallant like young Like the sweet-heart of the sun, Lochinvar?
Who many a glowing kiss had won.
On her cheek an autumn flush,
Deeply ripened; such a blush
In the midst of brown was born,
Round her eyes her tresses fell;
Which were blackest none could tell,
But long lashes veiled a light
Prythee, why so pale ?
Looking ill prevail ?
Prythee, why so pale ?
Prythee, why so mute?
Saying nothing do't ?
Prythee, why so mute? Quit, quit for shame! this will not move,
This cannot take her;
Nothing can make her.
SIR JOHN SUCKLING.
SEND BACK MY HEART.
Since I cannot have thine ;
Why then should'st thou have mine? Yet now I think on't, let it lie,
To find it were in vain,
Would steal it back again.
And yet not lodge together? O Love, where is thy sympathy,
If thus our breasts thou sever?
Then farewell care, and farewell woe,
I will no longer pine;
SIR JOHN SUCKLING.
Sir John SUCKLING.
LOVE. (From “ The Maiden Queen.'') FEED a flame within, which so torments
me, That it both pains my heart, and yet contents
me; 'Tis such a pleasing smart, and I so love it, That I had rather die, than once remove it. Yet he, for whom I grieve, shall never know
My tongue does not betray, nor my eyes show
it. Not a sigh nor a tear my pain discloses, But they fall silently, like dew on roses. Thus to prevent my love from being cruel, My heart's the sacrifice, as 'tis the fuel; And while I suffer this to give him quiet, My faith rewards my love, though he deny it. On his eyes will I gaze, and there delight me; Where I conceal my love no frown can fright
me; To be more happy, I dare not aspire ; Nor can I fall more low, mounting no higher.
But Love is such a mystery
I cannot find it out, For when I think I'm best resolved,
I then am most in doubt.
| GA Carth, ED the gold I had hid in the
BRIGHT, O BRIGHT FEDALMA! The image of themselves by turns, the idol of (From " The Spanish Gypsy.'')
past years. AIDEN, crowned with glossy blackness, Of her bright face one glance will trace a Lithe as panther forest roaming,
picture on the brain, Long-armed naiad, when she dances,
And of her voice in echoing hearts a sound On a stream of ether floating,
must long remain; Bright, O bright Fedalma!
But memory such as mine of her so very much
endears, From all curves, like softness drifted,
When death is nigh, my latest sigh will be not Wave-kissed marble roundly dimpling,
life's, but hers. Far-off music slowly winged, Gently rising, gently sinking,
I fill this cup to one made up of loveliness Bright, O bright Fedalma!
A woman, of her gentle sex the seeming parPure as rain-tear on a rose-leaf,
agon ; Cloud higb-born in noon-day spotless, Her health! and would on earth there stood Sudden perfect as the dew-bead,
some more of such a frame ! Gem of earth and sky begotten,
That life might be all poetry, and weariness a Bright, O bright Fedalma!
EDWARD COATES PINKNEY. Beauty has no mortal father,
Holy light her form engendered Out of tremor, yearning, gladness,
(From "The Arizonian.")
Hid over the door and hid under the hearth,
For the love of a blonde by a sun-browned
lover; FILL this cup to one made up of loveliness And I said to myself, as I set my face alone;
To the East and afar from the desolate place, A woman, of her gentle sex the seeming par “She has braided her tresses, and through agon ;
tears To whom the better elements and kindly Looked away to the West for years, the years stars have given
That I have wrought where the sun tans A form so fair that, like the air, 'tis less of brown; earth than heaven,
She has waked by night, she has watched
by day, Her every tone is music's own, like those of She has wept and wondered at my delay, morning birds,
Alone and in tears with her head held down, And something more than melody dwells ever Where the ships sail out and the seas swirl in, in her words;
Forgetting to knit and refusing to spin. The coinage of her heart are they, and from She shall lift her head, she shall see her lover, her heart each flows,
She shall hear his voice like a sea that As one may see the burdened bee forth issue rushes, from the rose.
She shall hold his gold in her hands of
snow, Affections are as thoughts to her, the meas And down on his breast she shall hide ure of her hours;
her blushes, Her feelings have the fragrancy, the freshness And never a care shall her true heart know of young flowers;
While the clods are below or the clouds are And lovely passions, changing oft, so fill her, above her." she appears
FAREWELL TO NANCY.
When thou art in good humor dressed, E fond kiss, and then we sever!
When gentle reason rules thy breast,
The sun upon the calmest sea
Appears not half so bright as thee;
'Tis then that with delight I rove Warring sighs and groans I'll wage thee.
Upon the boundless depth of love; Who shall say that fortune grieves him
I bless my chain, I hand mine oar,
Nor think on all I left on shore.
“But when vain doubt and groundless fear I'll ne'er blame my partial fancy,
Do that dear foolish bosom tear, Naething could resist my Nancy ;
When the big lip and watery eye But to see her was to love her,
Tell me the rising storm is nigh, Love but her, and love forever.
'Tis then thou art yon angry main, Had we never loved sae kindly,
Deformed by winds and dashed by rain; Had we never loved sae blindly,
And the poor sailor that must try Never met, or never parted,
Its fury, labors less than I. We had ne'er been broken-hearted!
Shipwrecked, in vain to land I make,
While love and fate still drive me back; Fare thee weel, thou first and fairest!
Forced to dote on thee thy own way, Fare thee weel, thou best and dearest! I chide thee first, and then obey; Thine be ilka joy and treasure,
Wretched when from thee, vexed when nigh, Peace, enjoyment, love and pleasure!
I with thee, or without thee, die. Ae fond kiss, and then we sever,
SAINT amorist, what! dost thou think
To taste love's honey, and not drink THE LADY'S LOOKING-GLASS. One drop of gall? or to devour
A world of sweet, and taste no sour? NELIA and I, the other day,
Dost thou e'er think to enter Walked o'er the sand-hills to the sea;
The Elysian fields, that durst not venture The setting sun adorned the coast,
In Charon's barge? A lover's mind His beams entire his fierceness lost,
Must use to sail with every wind. And on the surface of the deep
He that loves, and fears to try, The wind lay only not asleep.
Learns his mistress to deny. The nymph did, like the scene, appear
Doth she chide thee? 'Tis to show it, Serenely pleasant, calmly fair;
That thy coldness makes her do it. Soft fell her words as flew the air.
Is she silent? Is she mute ? With secret joy I heard her say
Silence fully grants thy suit. That she would never miss one day
Doth she pout, and leave the room ? A walk so fine, a sight so gay.
Then she goes to bid thee come. But, O, the change! The winds grow high,
Is she sick? Why, then, be sure,
She invites thee to the cure.
Doth she cross thy suit with no ?
Tush! she loves to hear thee woo.
Doth she question faith of man ?
Nay, forsooth, she loves thee then. And, trembling, vows she'll ne'er again
He that after ten denials Approach the shore or view the main.
Dares attempt no further trials,
Hath no warrant to acquire “Once more at least look back," said I, The dainties of his chaste desire. Thyself in that large glass descry;
SIR PHILIP SIDNEY.