And may it be that yonder chime, Which spoke to-day of hearts delighted, That death those hearts has disunited? It may be but away, away! Forebodings dark, and dreams of sorrow; And reason's voice be heard to-morrow. I would not, with most sage advice, Etonian. SONNET, TO AILSA ROCK. BY JOHN KEATS. HEARKEN, thou craggy ocean pyramid! Thou answerest not, for thou art dead asleep; Thy life is but two dread eternities; The last in air, the former in the deep, First with the whales, last with the eagle skies ; Drowned wast thou till an earthquake made thee steep,— Another cannot bow thy giant size. TO A GIRL THIRTEEN YEARS OF AGE. THY smiles, thy talk, thy aimless plays, So beautiful approve thee, So winning, light, are all thy ways, I cannot choose but love thee: Thy balmy breath upon my brow As o'er my cheek thou leanest now Thy steps are dancing toward the bound More precious to the heart; But never can'st thou be again, That lovely thing thou art! And youth shall pass, with all the brood Of fancy-fed affection; And care shall come with womanhood, And 'waken cold reflection; Thou'll learn to toil, and watch, and weep, O'er pleasures unreturning, Like one who wakes from pleasant sleep Unto the cares of morning. Nay, say not so! nor cloud the sun Of joyous expectation, Ordained to bless the little one, The freshling of creation! Nor doubt that HE, who now doth feed Her early lamp with gladness, Will be her present help in need, Her comforter in sadness. Smile on, then, little winsome thing, All rich in nature's measure; Thou hast within thy heart a spring Of self-renewing pleasure; Smile on, fair child, and take thy fill LOVE. BY R. SOUTHEY, ESQ. THEY sin who tell us love can die ;- In heaven ambition cannot dwell, Nor avarice in the vaults of hell ; Earthly these passions as of earth, They perish when they have their birth; But love is indestructible, Its holy flame for ever burneth, From heaven it came, to heaven returneth; Too oft on earth a troubled guest, At times deceived, at times opprest; It here is tried and purified, And hath in heaven its perfect rest; It soweth here with toil and care, But the harvest time of Love is there. Hath she not then, for pains and fears, The day of woe, the anxious night, An over-payment of delight! W. TO A SISTER. BY W. READ, ESQ. THE soft gale of summer, though past, And to me thou art now as a star, And my spirit full oft when it turns From the cold hearted crowd which it spurns, It hath found but One like thee beside. I may err-and have erred,-for a mind But oh! when most wild or most weak, I once sighed for the wreath that is wove I once hoped the proud laurel should bloom, Alas! they were dreams that pass on, Yet, dear one, though hopeless I be, My lot shall not make me repine, Farewell! with thy purity blest, Be still my own star in the west! Which binds me to earth-Fare-thee-well! TO LOUISA. IF memory ever should whisper the name Remember his heart was not tempered like those Remember, if fondness seduced him too far, If it beamed but on him, though a thousand were by? And remember, whilst others are bound by its spell, With what ills and what anguish his spirit must cope, Who breathes thee this wild and eternal farewell :— They hope while they love, but he loves without hope! Literary Gazette. |