it up,

the cup

bar;

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,
Lochinvar.

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

Lee,
But the lost bride of Netherby ne'er did they

RUTH.

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.
SIR WALTER SCOTT.

On her cheek an autumn flush,
A GLIMPSE OF LOVE.

Deeply ripened; such a blush

In the midst of brown was born,
HE came as comes the summer wind, Like red poppies grown with corn.
* A gust of beauty to my heart;
Then swept away; but left behind

Round her eyes her tresses fell;
Emotions which shall not depart.

Which were blackest none could tell,

see.

S

name.

| 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!

alone;

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,

THE GOLD-HUNTER.
Presage sweet and joy remembered,

(From "The Arizonian.")
Child of light, Fedalma!
MARIAN Evans CROSS.

earth,
("* George Eliot.")

Hid over the door and hid under the hearth,
Hoarded and hid, as the world went over,

For the love of a blonde by a sun-browned
A HEALTH.

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

JOAQUIN MILLER.

AI

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
Ae farewell, alas forever!
Deep in heart-wrung tears I'll pledge thee,

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,
While the star of hope she leaves him?

Nor think on all I left on shore.
Me, nae cheerfu' twinkle lights me;
Dark despair around benights me.

“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,

MATTHEW PRIOR.
Ae fareweel, alas, forever!
Deep in heart-wrung tears I'll pledge thee,
Warring sighs and groans I'll wage thee.

WOOING STUFFE.
ROBERT BURNS.

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.
Impending tempests charge the sky,
The lightning flies, the thunder roars,

Doth she cross thy suit with no ?

Tush! she loves to hear thee woo.
The big waves lash the frightened shores.
Struck with the horror of the sight,

Doth she question faith of man ?
She turns her head and wings her flight,

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.