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LOVE, under Friendship's vesture white,
Laughs, his little limbs concealing;
And oft in sport, and oft in spite,
Like Pity meets the dazzled sight,
Smiles thro' his tears revealing.

But now as Rage the God appears!
He frowns, and tempests shake his frame !—
Frowning, or smiling, or in tears,

'Tis Love; and Love is still the same.


As thro' the hedge-row shade the violet steals,
And the sweet air its modest leaf reveals;
Her softer charms, but by their influence known,
Surprise all hearts, and mould them to her own.


CAGED in old woods, whose reverend echoes wake
When the hern screams along the distant lake,
Her little heart oft flutters to be free,

Oft sighs to turn the unrelenting key.

In vain the nurse that rusted relic wears,
Nor moved by gold-nor to be moved by tears;
And terraced walls their black reflection throw
On the green-mantled moat that sleeps below.



WHILE thro' the broken pane the tempest sighs,


my step falters on the faithless floor,

Shades of departed joys around me rise,

With many a face that smiles on me no more;


many a voice that thrills of transport gave,

Now silent

as the

grass that tufts their grave!



ONCE more, enchanting maid, adieu !
I must be gone while yet I may.
Oft shall I weep to think of you;
But here I will not, cannot stay.

The sweet expression of that face,
For ever changing, yet the same,
Ah no, I dare not turn to trace.
It melts my soul, it fires my frame!

Yet give me, give me, ere I go,
One little lock of those so blest,
That lend your cheek a warmer glow,
And on your white neck love to rest.

-Say, when, to kindle soft delight,

That hand has chanced with mine to meet, How could its thrilling touch excite

A sigh so short, and yet so sweet?

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say-but no, it must not be.

Adieu! A long, a long adieu!

-Yet still, methinks, you frown on me; Or never could I fly from you.

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THE Sailor sighs as sinks his native shore,

As all its lessening turrets bluely fade;

He climbs the mast to feast his eye once more, And busy fancy fondly lends her aid.

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