Where Love a crown of thornless Roses wears,
Where softened Sorrow smiles within her tears;
And Memory, with a Vestal's chaste employ,
Unceasing feeds the lambent flame of joy!
No more your sky-larks melting from the sight
Shall thrill the attuned heart-string with delight—
No more shall deck your pensive Pleasures sweet
With wreaths of sober hue my evening seat.
Yet dear to Fancy's eye your varied scene
Of wood, hill, dale, and sparkling brook between!
Yet sweet to Fancy's ear the warbled song,
That soars on Morning's wing your vales among.

Scenes of my Hope! the aching eye ye leave Like yon bright hues that paint the clouds of eve! Tearful and saddening with the saddened blaze Mine eye the gleam pursues with wistful gaze: Sees shades on shades with deeper tint impend, Till chill and damp the moonless night descend.

THE ROSE.

As late each flower that sweetest blows

I plucked, the Garden's pride!

Within the petals of a Rose

A sleeping Love I spied.

Around his brows a beamy wreath
Of many a lucent hue;

All purple glowed his cheek, beneath,
Inebriate with dew.

I softly seized the unguarded Power,
Nor scared his balmy rest:

And placed him, caged within the flower,
On spotless Sara's breast.

But when unweeting of the guile

Awoke the prisoner sweet,

He struggled to escape awhile

And stamped his faery feet.

Ah! soon the soul-entrancing sight

Subdued the impatient boy!

He gazed! he thrilled with deep delight! Then clapped his wings for joy.

"And O!" he cried-" of magic kind What charms this Throne endear!

Some other Love let Venus find

I'll fix my empire here."

THE KISS.

ONE kiss, dear maid! I said and sighed―

Your scorn the little boon denied.

Ah why refuse the blameless bliss ?

Can danger lurk within a kiss?

Yon viewless Wanderer of the vale,
The Spirit of the Western Gale,

At Morning's break, at Evening's close
Inhales the sweetness of the Rose,

And hovers o'er the uninjured Bloom
Sighing back the soft perfume.

Vigour to the Zephyr's wing
Her nectar-breathing Kisses fling;
And He the glitter of the Dew
Scatters on the Rose's hue.

Bashful lo! she bends her head,
And darts a blush of deeper Red!

Too well those lovely lips disclose
The triumphs of the opening Rose;
O fair! O graceful! bid them prove
As passive to the breath of Love.
In tender accents, faint and low,
Well-pleased I hear the whispered "No!"
The whispered "No"-how little meant !
Sweet Falsehood that endears Consent!
For on those lovely lips the while
Dawns the soft relenting smile,

And tempts with feigned dissuasion coy
The gentle violence of Joy.

TO A YOUNG ASS.

ITS MOTHER BEING TETHERED NEAR IT.

'POOR little Foal of an oppressed Race!
I love the languid Patience of thy face:
And oft with gentle hand I give thee bread,
And clap thy ragged Coat, and pat thy head.
But what thy dulled Spirits hath dismayed,
That never thou dost sport along the glade?
And (most unlike the nature of things young)
That earthward still thy moveless head is hung?
Do thy prophetic Fears anticipate,

Meek Child of Misery! thy future fate?

The starving meal, and all the thousand aches
"Which patient Merit of the Unworthy takes?"
Or is thy sad heart thrilled with filial pain
To see thy wretched Mother's shortened Chain?
And, truly very piteous is her Lot-

Chained to a Log within a narrow spot,

Where the close-eaten Grass is scarcely seen,
While sweet around her waves the tempting Green!
Poor Ass! thy master should have learnt to show
Pity-best taught by fellowship of Woe!
For much I fear me that He lives like thee,
Half famished in a land of Luxury!

How askingly its footsteps hither bend,

It seems to say, "And have I then one Friend?" Innocent Foal! thou poor despised Forlorn!

44

I hail thee Brother-spite of the fool's scorn!
And fain would take thee with me, in the Dell
Of Peace and mild Equality to dwell,

Where Toil shall call the charmer Health his

bride,

And Laughter tickle Plenty's ribless side!
How thou wouldst toss thy heels in gamesome play,
And frisk about, as lamb or kitten gay!
Yea! and more musically sweet to me
Thy dissonant harsh bray of joy would be,
Than warbled melodies that soothe to rest
The aching of pale Fashion's vacant breast!

HAPPINESS.

ON wide, or narrow scale shall Man
Most happily describe life's plan ?
Say, shall he bloom and wither there,
Where first his infant buds appear ;
Or upwards dart with soaring force,
And tempt some more ambitious course?
Obedient now to Hope's command,

I bid each humble wish expand,

And fair and bright Life's prospects seem,
While Hope displays her cheering beam,
And Fancy's vivid colorings stream,

While Emulation stands me nigh

The Goddess of the eager eye.