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Dearest love! when thy God shall recall thee,
Be this record inscribed on thy tomb:
Truth, and gratitude, well may applaud thee,
And all thy past virtues relume.
...

In some lone hamlet it were better far
To live unknown amid Contentment's isle,
Than court the bauble of an air-blown star,
Or barter honour for a prince's smile!
...

Lady! who didst--with angel-look and smile,
And the sweet lustre of those dear, dark eyes,
Gracefully bend before the font of Christ,
In humble adoration, faith, and prayer!...

Genius of England! wherefore to the earth
Is thy plumed helm, thy peerless sceptre cast?
Thy courts of late with minstrelsy and mirth
Rang jubilant, and dazzling pageants past;...

Madam! when sorrowing o'er the virtuous dead,
The gentlest solace of the tears we shed,
Is, to surviving excellence to turn,
And honour there those merits that we mourn.
...

Sons of Renown! ye heirs of matchless fame,
Whose Sires in Glory's path victorious fell;
Adding new honors to the British name,
That future ages shall with transport tell.
...

By the trim taper, and the blazing hearth,
(While loud without the blast of winter sung),
Now thrill'd with awe, and now relax'd with mirth,
Paris, I've roam'd thy varied haunts among,...

With a Drawing of the Head of an Eminent Artist.


Dear Sir, you remember, when Herod of Jewry
Had given a ball, how a shocking old fury
Demanded, so bent was the vixen on slaughter....

Sweet wreck of loveliness! alas, how soon
The sad brief summer of thy joys hath fled:
How sorrows Friendship for thy hapless doom,
Thy beauty faded, and thy hopes all dead....

Sweet songstress! whom the melancholy Muse
With more than fondness loved, for thee she strung
The lyre, on which herself enraptured hung,
And bade thee through the world its sweets diffuse....

Oh! best belov'd of heaven, on earth bestow'd
To raise the pilgrim, sunk with ghastly fears,
To cool his burning wounds, to wipe his tears,
And strew with amaranths his thorny road....

O! best-beloved of Heaven, on earth bestow'd,
To raise the pilgrim sunk with ghastly fears,
To cool his burning wounds, to wipe his tears,
And strew with amaranths his thorny road....

Hail, lovely morn! and thou, all-beauteous sea!
Sun-sparkling with the diamond's countless rays:
Thy look, how tranquil, one eternal calm,
Which seems to woo the troubled soul to peace!...

Ah! this wild desolated spot,
Calls forth the plaintive tear;
Remembrance paints my little cot,
Which once did flourish here.

No more the early lark and thrush
Shall hail the rising day,...

I dare not look at those dear eyes,
The sun was never half so bright,
There surely more of rapture lies
Than ever bless'd a mortal's sight.

In thy sweet face I see impress'd...

Can it be true, so fragrant and so fair,
To give thy perfumes to the dews of night?
Can aught so beautiful, despise the glare,
And fade, and sicken in the morning light?
...

Come away, come away, little fly!
Don't disturb the sweet calm of love's nest:
If you do, I protest you shall die,
And your tomb be that beautiful breast.

Don't tickle the girl in her sleep,...

Joy to thee, Lady! many years of joy
To thee--and thine--that springtide of the heart,
The bliss of virtuous love, without alloy.
And all that health and gladsome life impart....

By Miss A.M. TURNER, Daughter of the Eminent Engraver.


Death to the very life! not the closed eye,
Not those small paralytic limbs alone,
But every feather tells so mournfully...