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ALICE.

Along Glengariff's sea ;

And crowds in many a galley
FROM " ALICE AND UNA."

To the happy marriage rally
1.

Of the maiden of the valley
ALICE was a chieftain's daughter,

And the youth of Céim-an-eich;
And though many suitors sought her,

Old eyes with joy are weeping, as all ask on
She so loved Glengariff's water

bended knee, That she let her lovers pine.

A blessing, gentle Alice, upon thee.

DENIS FLORENCE MACCARTHY.
Her eye was beauty's palace,
And her cheek an ivory chalice,

Through which the blood of Alice
Gleamed soft as rosiest wine,

TO A LADY BEFORE MARRIAGE. And her lips like lusmore blossoms which the fairies intertwine,

0, FORMED by Nature, and refined by Art, And her heart a golden mine.

With charms to win, and sense to fix the heart !

By thousands sought, Clotilda, canst thou free
II.

Thy crowd of captives and descend to me?
She was gentler and shyer

Content in shades obscure to waste thy life,
Than the light fawn which stood by her, | A hidden beauty and a country wife?
And her eyes emit a fire

0, listen while thy summers are my theme! Soft and tender as her soul;

Ah ! soothe thy partner in his waking dream!
Love's dewy light doth drown her,

In some small hamlet on the lonely plain,
And the braided locks that crown her

Where Thames through meadows rolls his mazy
Than autumn's trees are browner,

train, When the golden shadows roll

Or where high Windsor, thick with greens arrayed, Through the forests in the evening, when cathe Waves his old oaks, and spreads his ample shade, dral turrets toll,

Fancy has figured out our calm retreat;
And the purple sun advanceth to its goal.

Already round the visionary seat
III.

Our limes begin to shoot, our flowers to spring,
Her cottage was a dwelling

The brooks to murmur, and the birds to sing. All regal homes excelling,

Where dost thou lie, thou thinly peopled green, But, ah ! beyond the telling

Thou nameless lawn, and village yet unseen, Was the beauty round it spread,

Where sons, contented with their native ground, The wave and sunshine playing,

Ne'er travelled further than ten furlongs round, Like sisters each arraying,

And the tanned peasant and his ruddy bride Far down the sea-plants swaying

Were born together, and together died, Upon their coral bed,

Where early larks best tell the morning light, And languid as the tresses on a sleeping maiden's

| And only Philomel disturbs the night? head,

Midst gardens here my humble pile shall rise, When the summer breeze is dead.

With sweets surrounded of ten thousand dyes ;
All savage where th' embroidered gardens end,

The haunt of echoes, shall my woods ascend ;
Need we say that Maurice loved her, Andoh! if Heaven th'ambitiousthought approve,
And that no blush reproved her,

A rill shall warble 'cross the gloomy grove, When her throbbing bosom moved her A little rill, o'er pebbly beds conveyed, To give the heart she gave ?

Gush down the steep, and glitterthrough theglade. That by dawn-light and by twilight, Whatcheering scents these bordering banksexhale! And, O blessed moon, by thy light, —

How loud that heifer lows from yonder vale ! When the twinkling stars on high light That thrush how shrill ! his note so clear, so high, The wanderer o'er the wave, —

He drowns each feathered minstrel of the sky. His steps unconscious led him where Glengariff's Here let me trace beneath the purpled morn waters lave

The deep-mouthed beagle and the sprightly horn, Each mossy bank and cave.

Or lure the trout with well-dissembled flies,
Or fetch the fluttering partridge from the skies.

Nor shall thy hand disdain to crop the vine,
The sun his gold is flinging,

The downy peach, or flavored nectarine ;
The happy birds are singing,

Or rob the beehive of its golden hoard,
And bells are gayly ringing

| And bear th' unbought luxuriance to thy board.

IV.

No grape that 's kindly ripe could be So round, so plump, so soft as she,

Nor half so full of juice.

Sometimes my books by day shall kill the hours, 1
While from thy needle rise the silken flowers,
And thou, by turns, to ease my feeble sight,
Resume the volume, and deceive the night.
O, when I mark thy twinkling eyes opprest,
Soft whispering, let me warn my love to rest;
Then watch thee, charmed, while sleep locks every

sense,
And to sweet Heaven commend thy innocence.
Thus reigned our fathers o'er the rural fold,
Wise, hale, and honest, in the days of old ;
Till courts arose, where substance pays for show,
And specious joys are bought with real woe.

THOMAS TICKELL.

Her finger was so small, the ring
Would not stay on which they did bring,

It was too wide a peck;
And, to say truth, — for out it must,
It looked like the great collar -- just —

About our young colt's neck.
Her feet beneath her petticoat,
Like little mice, stole in and out,

As if they feared the light;
But O, she dances such a way!
No sun upon an Easter-day

Is half so fine a sight.
Her cheeks so rare a white was on,
No daisy makes comparison ;

Who sees them is undone ;
For streaks of red were mingled there,
Such as are on a Cath'rine pear,

The side that's next the sun.

O, LAY THY HAND IN MINE, DEAR!

0, LAY thy hand in mine, dear!

We're growing old ; But Time hath brought no sign, dear,

That hearts grow cold.
'T is long, long since our new love

Made life divine ;
But age enricheth true love,

Like noble wine.

Her lips were red ; and one was thin, Compared to that was next her chin.

Some bee had stung it newly ; But, Dick, her eyes so guard her face, I durst no more upon them gaze,

Than on the sun in July.

And lay thy cheek to mine, dear,

And take thy rest;
Mine arms around thee twine, dear,

And make thy nest.
A many cares are pressing

On this dear head ;
But Sorrow's hands in blessing

Are surely laid.

Her mouth so small, when she does speak, Thou’dst swear her teeth her words did break,

That they might passage get; But she so handled still the matter, They came as good as ours, or better, And are not spent a whit.

SIR JOHN SUCKLING

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And the music's brisker din

MARRIAGE.
At the bridegroom's entering in,
Entering in, a welcome guest,

FROM "HUMAN LIFE.”
To the chamber of his rest.

THEN before All they stand, – the holy vow

And ring of gold, no fond illusions now,
CHORUS OF MAIDENS.

Bind her as his. Across the threshold led, Now the jocund song is thine,

And every tear kissed off as soon as shed, Bride of David's kingly line ;

His house she enters, – there to be a light, How thy dove-like bosom trembleth,

Shining within, when all without is night; And thy shrouded eye resembleth

A guardian angel o'er his life presiding, Violets, when the dews of eve

Doubling his pleasures and his cares dividing,

Winning him back when mingling in the throng, A moist and tremulous glitter leave

Back from a world we love, alas ! too long,

To fireside happiness, to hours of ease, On the bashful sealéd lid !

Blest with that charm, the certainty to please. Close within the bride-veil hid,

How oft her eyes read his ; her gentle mind Motionless thou sitt'st and mute ;

To all his wishes, all his thoughts inclined ; Save that at the soft salute

Still subject, - ever on the watch to borrow Of each entering maiden friend,

Mirth of his mirth and sorrow of his sorrow ! Thou dost rise and softly bend.

The soul of music slumbers in the shell,

Till waked and kindled by the master's spell, Hark! a brisker, merrier glee !

And feeling hearts — touch them but rightly — The door unfolds, - 't is hé ! 't is he!.

pour Thus we lift our lamps to meet him,

A thousand melodies unheard before ! Thus we touch our lutes to greet him.

SAMUEL ROGERS. Thou shalt give a fonder meeting, Thou shalt give a tenderer greeting. HENRY HART MILMAN.

CONNUBIAL LIFE.

FROM "THE SEASONS.” WIFE, CHILDREN, AND FRIENDS. | But happy they ! the happiest of their kind !

Whom gentler stars unite, and in one fate When the black-lettered list to the gods was pre Their hearts, their fortunes, and their beings blend. sented

'T is not the coarser tie of human laws, (The list of what fate for each mortal intends), Unnatural oft, and foreign to the mind, At the long string of ills a kind goddess relented, That binds their peace, but harmony itself, And slipped in three blessings, — wife, children, Attuning all their passions into love ; and friends.

Where friendship full-exerts her softest power,

Perfect esteem enlivened by desire In vain surely Pluto maintained he was cheated. | Ineffable, and sympathy of soul ;

For justice divine could not compass its ends. Thought meeting thought, and will preventing The scheme of man's penance heswore was defeated,

will, For earth becomes heaven with-wife, children,

With boundless confidence : for naught but love and friends.

Can answer love, and render bliss secure.

| Meantime a smiling offspring rises round, If the stock of our bliss is in stranger hands vested,

| And mingles both their graces. By degrees, The fund ill secured, oft in bankruptcy ends;

The human blossom blows ; and every day, But the heart issues bills which are never protested,

Soft as it rolls along, shows some new charm, When drawn on the firm of — wife, children,

The father's lustre and the mother's bloom. and friends.

Then infant reason grows apace, and calls

For the kind hand of an assiduous care. The day-spring of youth still unclouded by sorrow,

Delightful task ! to rear the tender thought,

To teach the young idea how to shoot,
Alone on itself for enjoyment depends ;

To pour the fresh instruction o'er the mind,
But drear is the twilight of age if it borrow
No warmth from the smile of — wife, children,

To breathe the enlivening spirit, and to fix

The generous purpose in the glowing breast. and friends.

WILLIAM ROBERT SPENCER. To, speak the joy ! ye whom the sudden tear

MY WIFE'S A WINSOME WEE THING.

She is a winsome wee thing,
She is a handsome wee thing,
She is a bonnie wee thing,
This sweet wee wife o' mine.

Surprises often, while you look around,
And nothing strikes your eye but sights of bliss,
All various Nature pressing on the heart;
An elegant sufficiency, content,
Retirement, rural quiet, friendship, books,
Ease and alternate labor, useful life,
Progressive virtue, and approving Heaven.
These are the matchless joys of virtuous love ;
And thus their moments fly. The Seasons thus,
As ceaseless round a jarring world they roll,
Still find them happy; and consenting Spring
Sheds her own rosy garland on their heads : ·
Till evening comes at last, serene and mild ;
When after the long vernal day of life,
Enamored more, as more remembrance swells
With many a proof of recollected love,
Together down they sink in social sleep ;
Together freed, their gentle spirits fly
To scenes where love and bliss immortal reign.

JAMES THOMSON.

I never saw a fairer,
I never lo'ed a dearer,
And neist my heart I'll wear her,
For fear my jewel tine.
She is a winsome wee thing,
She is a handsome wee thing,
She is a bonnie wee thing,
This sweet wee wife o' mine.
The warld's wrack we share o't,
The warstle and the care o't:
Wi' her I 'll blythely bear it,
And think my lot divine.

ROBERT BURNS

THE BANKS OF THE LEE.

SONNETS.
Air, "A TRIP TO THE COTTAGE."

My Love, I have no fear that thou shouldst die ; O THE banks of the Lee, the banks of the Lee,

Albeit I ask no fairer life than this,
And love in a cottage for Mary and me!
There's not in the land a lovelier tide,

Whose numbering-clock is still thy gentle kiss,

While Time and Peace with hands unlocked fly, And I'm sure that there's no one so fair as my bride.

Yet care I not where in Eternity
She's modest and meek,
There's a down on her cheek,

We live and love, well knowing that there is

No backward step for those who feel the bliss
And her skin is as sleek

Of Faith as their most lofty yearnings high :
As a butterfly's wing;

Love hath so purified my being's core,
Then her step would scarce show

Meseems I scarcely should be startled, even, On the fresh-fallen snow,

To find, some morn, that thou hadst gone before ; And her whisper is low,

Since, with thy love, this knowledge too was But as clear as the spring.

given, O the banks of the Lee, the banks of the Lee,

Which each calm day doth strengthen more and And love in a cottage for Mary and me!

more, I know not how love is happy elsewhere,

That they who love are but one step from Heaven. I know not how any but lovers are there. O, so green is the grass, so clear is the stream, So mild is the mist and so rich is the beam, That beauty should never to other lands roam,

I CANNOT think that thou shouldst pass away, But make on the banks of our river its home!

| Whose life to mine is an eternal law, When, dripping with dew,

A piece of nature that can have no flaw, The roses peep through,

A new and certain sunrise every day; 'Tis to look in at you

But, if thou art to be another ray
They are growing so fast;

About the Sun of Life, and art to live
While the scent of the flowers

Free from all of thee that was fugitive, Must be hoarded for hours,

The debt of Love I will more fully pay, 'Tis poured in such showers

Not downcast with the thought of thee so high, When my Mary goes past.

But rather raised to be a nobler man, O the banks of the Lee, the banks of the Lee,

And more divine in my humanity, And love in a cottage for Mary and me!

As knowing that the waiting eyes which scan 0, Mary for me, Mary for me,

My life are lighted by a purer being, And 't is little I'd sigh for the banks of the Lee ! | And ask meek, calm-browed deeds, with it agree

THOMAS DAVIS.

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