If gay attire delight thine eye, I'll tend thy chamber door all night, If sweetest sounds can win thine ear, Then tell me how to woo thee, love, etc. But if fond love thy heart can gain, I never broke a vow; Nae maiden lays her skaith to me; I never loved but you. For you alone I ride the ring, For you I wear the blue; For you alone I strive to sing- Then tell me how to woo thee, love, etc. Robert Graham. I SONG FROM "THE DUENNA" NE'ER could any lustre see In eyes that would not look on me; But where my own did hope to sip. When yielding blushes aid their hue. Is her hand so soft and pure? That heaving bosom sigh for me. Richard Brinsley Sheridan. THE RACES A BALLAD GEORGE! I've been, I'll tell you where, But first prepare yourself for raptures; To paint this charming heavenly fair, And paint her well, would ask whole chapters. Fine creatures I've viewed many a one, By this sweet maid, at Races. Lords, Commoners, alike she rules, Her shape-'tis elegance and ease, Her foot-it was so wondrous small, And seemed to sink it with the weight. And just above the spangled shoe, And seen by stealth, and seen by chance; Two slender ankles peeping out, Stood like Love's heralds, to declare, That all within the petticoat Was firm and full, and "round, and fair." And then she dances-better far Than heart can think, or tongue can tell, Not Heinel, Banti, or Guimar, E'er moved so graceful and so well. So easy glide her beauteous limbs, She seems, as through the dance she skims, And there is lightning in her eye, Or bid the frozen heart catch fire. And zephyr on her lovely lips Has spread his choicest, sweetest roses, And there's such music when she speaks, And sparkling wit and steady sense, Had I the treasures of the world, All the sun views or the seas borrow (Else may I to the devil be hurled), I'd lay them at her feet to-morrow. But as we Bards reap only Bays, Nor much of that, though nought grows on it, I'll beat my brains to sound her praise, And hammer them into a sonnet. And if she deign one charming smile George Ellis. TO LADY ANNE HAMILTON OO late I stayed, forgive the crime,- How noiseless falls the foot of Time That only treads on flowers! What eye with clear account remarks When all its sands are diamond sparks, Ah! who to sober measurement. Hon. William R. Spencer: |