Of death was on thy gentle brow,

Was not mine cold with anguish too? And, till I heard that all was o'er,

Was not a flame within my breast, To which the pangs thy frame that tore Had seemed a respite and a rest?

87

VII.

But now tis past :— may not mourn,
For thou, beloved babe, art free;
And I may yet to thee return,

Though thou canst ne'er return to me.
Yes! we shall meet in realms more fair,
My sorrows healed, my sins forgiven,
And thy sweet smile awaits me there,

My welcome, at the gates of Heaven!

THE BACHELOR'S DILEMMA.

BY ALARIC A. WATTS.

How happy could I be with either.

Beggar's Opera.

I.

"By all the bright saints in the Missal of Love,
They are both so intensely, bewitchingly fair,
That, let Folly look solemn, and Wisdom reprove,
I can't make up my mind which to choose of the pair!

II.

There is Fanny, whose eye is as blue and as bright

As the depths of Spring skies in their noontide array; Whose every fair feature is gleaming in light, Like the ripple of waves on a sunshiny day:

III.

Whose form, like the willow, so slender and lithe,
Has a thousand wild motions of lightness and grace;
Whose heart, as a bird's, ever buoyant and blithe,

Is the home of the sweetness that breathes from her face.

IV.

There is Helen, more stately of gesture and mien,
Whose beauty a world of dark ringlets enshroud;
With a black regal eye, and the step of a queen,
And a brow, like the moon breaking bright from a cloud.

V.

With a bosom, whose chords are so tenderly strung, That a word, nay, a look, oft will waken its sighs; With a face, like the heart-searching tones of her tongue, Full of music that charms both the simple and wise.

v1.

In my moments of mirth, amid glitter and glee,
When the soul takes the hue that is brightest of any,
From her sister's enchantment my spirit is free,
And the bumper I crown is a bumper to Fanny!

VII.

But, when shadows come o'er me of sickness or grief,
And my heart with a host of wild fancies is swelling,
From the blaze of her brightness I turn for relief,
To the pensive and peace-breathing beauty of Helen!

VIII.

And when sorrow and joy are so blended together,
That to weep I'm unwilling, to smile am as loth;
When the beam may be kicked by the weight of a feather;
I would fain keep it even-by wedding them both

IX..

But since I must fix or on black eyes or blue,

Quickly make up my mind 'twixt a Grace and a Muse; Pr'ythee, Venus, instruct me that course to pursue Which even Paris himself had been puzzled to choose !"

.X.

Thus murmured a Bard-predetermined to marry,
But so equally charmed by a Muse and a Grace,
That though one of his suits might be doomed to miscarry,
He'd another he straight could prefer in its place!

XI.

So, trusting that "Fortune would favour the brave,"
He asked each in her turn, but they both said him, nay;
Lively Fanny declared he was somewhat too grave,
And Saint Helen pronounced him a little too gay!

XII.

May so awful a fate bid young poets beware

How they sport with their hopes 'till they darken and

wither;

For who thus dares presume to make love to a pair,

May be certain he 'll ne'er be accepted by either!

A GRANDSIRE'S TALE.

BY BERNARD BARTON.

I.

THE tale I tell was told me long ago;

Yet mirthful ones, since heard, have passed away,
While this still wakens memory's fondest glow,
And feelings fresh as those of yesterday:
'Twas told me by a man whose hairs were grey,
Whose brow bore token of the lapse of years,
Yet o'er his heart affection's gentle sway

Maintained that lingering spell which age endears, And while he told his tale his eyes were dim with tears.

II.

But not with tears of sorrow ;-for the eye

Is often wet with joy and gratitude;

And well his faltering voice, and tear, and sigh,

Declared a heart by thankfulness subdued: