She looks! she lives! this trancèd hour,
Her bright eye seems a purer gem
Than sparkles on the throne of power,
Or glory's wealthy diadem.

Yes, Genius, yes! thy mimic aid

A treasure to my soul has given,
Where beauty's canonizèd shade
Smiles in the sainted hues of heaven,

No spectre forms of pleasure fled,

Thy softening, sweetening, tints restore ; For thou canst give us back the dead, E'en in the loveliest looks they wore.

Then blest be Nature's guardian Muse, Whose hand her perish'd grace redeems! Whose tablet of a thousand hues

The mirror of creation seems.

From Love began thy high descent;
And lovers, charm'd by gifts of thine,
Shall bless thee mutely eloquent ;

And call thee brightest of the Nine!

THE MAID'S REMONSTRANCE.

NEVER wedding, ever wooing,

Still a love-lorn heart pursuing,
Read you not the wrong you 're doing
In my cheek's pale hue?

All my life with sorrow strewing,
Wed, or cease to woo.

Rivals banish'd, bosoms plighted,

Still our days are disunited;
Now the lamp of hope is lighted,

Now half-quench'd appears,

Damp'd, and wavering, and benighted,

'Midst my sighs and tears.

Charms you call your dearest blessing,

Lips that thrill at your caressing,
Eyes a mutual soul confessing,

Soon you'll make them grow
Dim, and worthless your possessing,
Not with age, but woe!

ABSENCE.

"Tis not the loss of love's assurance,
It is not doubting what thou art,
But 'tis the too, too long endurance
Of absence, that afflicts my heart.

The fondest thoughts two hearts can cherish,
When each is lonely doom'd to weep,

Are fruits on desert isles that perish,
Or riches buried in the deep.

What though, untouch'd by jealous madness,
Our bosom's peace may fall to wreck;
Th' undoubting heart, that breaks with sadness,
Is but more slowly doom'd to break.

Absence! is not the soul torn by it

From more than light, or life, or breath?

'Tis Lethe's gloom, but not its quiet,

The pain without the peace of death!

LINES

INSCRIBED ON THE MONUMENT LATELY FINISHED BY MR. CHANTREY,

Which has been erected by the Widow of Admiral Sir G. Campbell, K. C. B. to the memory of her Husband.

To him, whose loyal, brave, and gentle heart,
Fulfill'd the hero's and the patriot's part,-
Whose charity, like that which Paul enjoin'd,
Was warm, beneficent, and unconfined,-
This stone is rear'd: to public duty true,
The seaman's friend, the father of his crew-
Mild in reproof, sagacious in command,
He spread fraternal zeal throughout his band,
And led each arm to act, each heart to feel,
What British valour owes to Britain's weal.
These were his public virtues :—but to trace
His private life's fair purity and grace,
To paint the traits that drew affection strong
From friends, an ample and an ardent throng,
And, more, to speak his memory's grateful claim,
On her who mourns him most, and bears his name-
O'ercomes the trembling hand of widow'd grief,
O'ercomes the heart, unconscious of relief,
Save in religion's high and holy trust,
Whilst placing their memorial o'er his dust.

STANZAS

ON THE BATTLE OF NAVARINO.

HEARTS of oak that have bravely deliver'd the

brave,

[grave, And uplifted old Greece from the brink of the 'Twas the helpless to help, and the hopeless to

save,

That your thunderbolts swept o'er the brine: And as long as yon sun shall look down on the

wave,

The light of your glory shall shine.

For the guerdon ye sought with your bloodshed and toil,

Was it slaves, or dominion, or rapine, or spoil? No! your lofty emprise was to fetter and foil The uprooter of Greece's domain !

When he tore the last remnant of food from her soil,

Till her famish'd sank pale as the slain!

Yet, Navarin's heroes! does Christendom breed The base hearts that will question the fame of your deed?