And when against her unknown spouse,
Thou aim'dst th' assassin's knife,
Thou gav❜st the weapon doom'd to drink
Thy absent brother's life.
"To-night she from her prison burst
And flew to seek her Lord;
She found him-thus-she kiss'd his cheek, And fell upon his sword.
"Oh WALTER! could that artless tongue In vain a pleader prove?
Could not those tears, those piercing shrieks Thy soul to pity move?
"Well did'st thou chuse the midnight gloom
Th' infernal deed to veil
Yet deeds of rape, and deeds of blood,
Not midnight can conceal.
"Ah WALTER ! did no heavenly voice,
Inform thy erring mind,
That glutting thy infuriate lust
Was rape with incest join'd?
"That when to the assassin's hand
Thou gav'st the sharpen'd knife,
And bade him pierce her husband's heart
Thou sought'st thy brother's life.
"The partners of thy guilt are gone,
Them heavenly vengeance found ;
Smote by the lightning's scorching blaze
They press the blasted ground.
"What would'st thou, WALTER, on the man,
By whom our breasts were torn?
Thou would'st that in a whirl of fire,
His soul to Hell were borne !
"That ruin on thy head thou'st heap'd,
Thou had'st for others will'd}
'Tis thou O WALTER, art the man-
Now-Be thy wish fulfill'd !"
AYE but to love, and wish we know not what!
To pine in cold rejection and despair!
This even-beating motion to become
A flutt'ring whirl, and the benighted spirit
To plunge in Hope's delirium, or reside
In the despairing dungeons of Disdain !
To be the pris'ner of a woman's eye,
And drawn with restless violence round about
Her bless'd abode-or to be worse than worst
Of those whom raptur'd bards and love-sick swains
Imagine sighing !-'tis too horrible !
The dullest and most wretched single life
That age, ache, penury, or deformity,
Can lay on manhood, is a paradise
To the effects of love.
HAPLY possess❜d of each terrestrial thing
That gives a virtuous bosom calm content,
Yet is thy ever-restless mind intent
On something unenjoy'd.-O do not fling
With scorn, tranquillity and health away,
For joys luxurious, and follies gay!-
Why should thy fancy, ever on the wing,
Seek new delights, thy sickly breast t' amuse,
Oft unsubstantial as Arachne's webs,—
Brief as the rainbow's heav'nly-tinctur'd hues,
When lo! how rapidly Life's current ebbs.
Ah, pause !-such pleasures are beneath thy care,
Nor waste Time's precious hours in quest of baubles
AH! Busan, dear Susan! again I behold thee,
Thy beauties as blooming as nature can form;
Ah! Susan, dear Susan! again I enfold thee,
Thy cheek still as rosy, thy lip still as warm.
As when erst in the days of our childhood we gambol'd,
And thought not of love though we tasted its bliss,
While as thro' the green woodlands together we rambled,
Each look was a smile, each word was a kiss.
And Susan, dear Susan! art thou still the same then?
The same that in those days of pleasure I knew?
No longer be constancy deem'd but a name then,
Since the heart of my Susan continues so true!
And didst thou despise all the offers of splendour ?
Had titles or wealth no enchantment for thee?
And was it to Love, thou wouldst only surrender?
And didst thou surrender to that, but for me?
Affection, then, let the world treat with derision,
Let them treat as ideal what they never felt,
Or let a dreamer imagine that love is a vision,
Which lives but the night, and with morning will
melt.
But no fancies like these cast a gloom on our truth, love, I fondest of husbands, thou fairest of wives,
For the sun that shone bright on the dawn of our youth love,
Will still shine as bright on the eve of our lives!
THINGS A GOOD WIFE OUGHT TO BE, AND THE THREE THINGS A GOOD WIFE OUGHT NOT TO BE.
A WIFE, domestick, good, and pure,
Like snail should keep within her door-
But not like snail in silver'd track,
Place all her wealth upon her back.
A wife should be like echo true,
And speak but when she's spoken to¬
But not like echo still be heard,
Contending for the final word.
Like a town-clock a wife should be,
Keep time and regularity-
But not, like clocks, harangue so clear,
That all the town her voice might hear.
Young man! if the allusions strike,
She whom as wife you'd hail—
Must just be like, and just unlike,
An echo, clock, or snail.
A SCHOLAR, in a Margate hoy,
Set sail the sea was calmish;
But soon rough waves the vessel buoy,
Which made the ladies qualmish.
The student, starting from his sleep,
Cried with an oath,-" Confound me !
I'm driven to the Ægean deep,
The Clyclades surround me."
EVERLASTING BEAUTY.
"DEAR Chloris, all the blooming grace
That now adorns thy matchless face,
Thy bosom's whiteness, (seat of joy!)
Ev'n age itself will ne'er destroy."
Thus Strephon fondly said; nor knew
His flatt'ry was obliquely true :
For Chloris paints; and, doubtless will,
When age comes on, look blooming still.
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