THE GIRL AND THE HAWK. FROM A PICTURE BY G. S. NEWTON, R.A. GRACEFUL "phantom of delight!" But she may not vie with thee! There's a sweet simplicity Flitting round thine open brow, Sporting on thy ripe lips now, Mantling o'er thy maiden cheek In hues that leave description weak; With a brightness all too real For a poet's beau ideal! Though an angel's grace is thine, Though the light is half divine, That with chastened lustre flashes From beneath thine eyes' dark lashes; Yet thy thoughtful forehead fair, And that sweetly pensive air, THE MELODY OF YOUTH. Speak thee but of mortal birth, Huntress fair, the sport is over, THE MELODY OF YOUTH. DELICIOUS strain! upon my charméd ear, 157 The source of blameless joy to all around; How changed from what it was when life was new, Breathe on breathe on! 'tis soothing sweet to deem That what thou wert in other years to me, Thou mayst be still to many a youthful heart, As joyous, warm, and true as once was mine! Strain of my youth, all mournful as thou art To me, the tears thy soft, deep notes awaken Are grateful as the dew to withered flowers! And though thy tenderest notes are ever fraught With memories sad, I would not now recall; Yet such their magic influence on my soul, I deem them sweetest when they pain me most! THE EXILES. 'TIS eve on the ocean, the breeze is in motion, Then Helen, my sweet one, look up and be gay! LOVE AND FRIENDSHIP. Why sorrow thus blindly, for those who unkindly Could launch and then leave us on life's troubled sea; Who so heartlessly scanted the little we wanted, And denied us the all that we asked-to be free! 159 But we've 'scaped from their trammels, the word is "away," Then Helen, my sweet one, look up and be gay! On, on we are speeding, and swiftly receding, The white cliffs of Albion in distance grow blue, Now that gem of earth's treasures, that scene of past pleasures, The land of our childhood fades fast from our view! Though thus exiled we sever from England for ever, We'll make us a home and a country afar: And we'll build us a bower, where stern Pride has no power, LOVE AND FRIENDSHIP. STEAL his arrow, break his bow, Clip his wings, and he will grow More like Friendship far than Love. What though Love no faults may see, And whate'er his vows may be, Mischief is his cherished aim, Which, though blind, he seldom misses; Friendship is a safer guest, When without disguise we find her; But would Love her eyes but borrow, THE DEATH OF POMPEY THE GREAT. "States vanish, ages fly: But leave one task unchanged-to suffer and to die." HEMANS. NOT when his golden eagles flew, In sunbright splendour o'er him, |