Lifting alike thy head Of placid beauty, feminine yet free, What is like thee, fair flower, The gentle and the firm; thus bearing up Oh! Love is most like thee, The Love of Woman; quivering to the blast Through every nerve, yet rooted deep and fast, 'Midst Life's dark sea. And Faith-oh! is not Faith Like thee, too, Lily? springing into light, Still buoyantly, above the billows' might, Through the storm's breath? Yes, link'd with such high thoughts, Flower, let thine image in my bosom lie! Till something there of its own purity And peace be wrought: Something yet more divine Than the clear, pearly, virgin lustre shed MRS. HEMANS. EPITAPH ON MISS DRUMMOND, IN THE CHURCH OF BROADSWORTH, YORKSHIRE. HERE sleeps what once was beauty, once was grace; Grace, that with tenderness and sense combined To form that harmony of soul and face, Where beauty shines the mirror of the mind. Such was the maid, that, in the morn of youth, Bless'd with each art that owes its charms to truth, Sunk in her father's fond embrace, and died. He weeps; O venerate the holy tear! Faith lends her aid to ease affliction's load; The parent mourns his child upon the bier, The Christian yields an angel to his God. MASON. THE NATURAL BEAUTY. WHETHER Stella's eyes are found Conscious worth or soft distress, If on her we see display'd Still she lights the conscious flame, Vain the casual, transient glance, I those charms alone can prize DR. JOHNSON. THE BUTTERFLY'S BALL. COME take up your hats, and away let us haste So said little Robert, and, pacing along, Saw the children of earth, and the tenants of air, And there was the Gnat and the Dragon-fly too, Who with him the Wasp, his companion, did bring, And the Snail, with his horns peeping out of his shell, The viands were various, to each of their taste, And the Squirrel, well pleased such diversions to see, From one branch to another, his cobwebs he slung, But, just in the middle,-Oh! shocking to tell,- Yet he touch'd not the ground, but with talons outspread, Hung suspended in air, at the end of a thread. Then the Grasshopper came with a jerk and a spring, He took but three leaps, and was soon out of sight, But they all laugh'd so loud that he pull'd in his head, And went in his own little chamber to bed. Then, as evening gave way to the shadows of night, Their watchman, the Glow-worm, came out with a light. Then home let us hasten, while yet we can see, ROSCOE. LAMENTATION FOR THE DEATH OF CELIN. AT the gate of old Granada, when all its bolts are barr'd, At twilight, at the Vega gate, there is a trampling heard ; There is a trampling heard, as of horses treading slow, And a weeping voice of women, and a heavy sound of woe. "What tower is fall'n, what star is set, what chief come these bewailing?" "A tower is fall'n, a star is set. Alas! alas, for Celin!" Three times they knock, three times they cry, and wide the doors they throw: Dejectedly they enter, and mournfully they go: In gloomy lines they mustering stand beneath the hollow porch, Each horseman grasping in his hand a black and flaming torch; Wet is each eye as they go by, and all around is wailing, For all have heard the misery. "Alas! alas, for Celin!" Him, yesterday, a Moor did slay, of Bencerraje's blood, 'Twas at the solemn jousting; around the nobles stood; The nobles of the land were there, and the ladies bright and fair Look'd from their latticed windows, the haughty sight to share; But now the nobles all lament, the ladies are be wailing, For he was Granada's darling knight. for Celin!" "Alas! alas, Before him ride his vassals, in order two by two, With ashes on their turbans spread, most pitiful to view; |