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And each to the other embracing will say,
* Farewell ! let us hope we're forgiven ! Thy last fading glance will illumine the way,
And a kiss be our passport to heaven !
My fates had destined me to rove
Come, tell me,' says Rosa, as, kissing and kissed,
One day she reclined on my breast; • Come, tell me the number, repeat me the list
Of the nymphs you have loved and caressed.'
My heart at the moment was free ;
And the number shall finish with thee!
My tutor was Kitty; in infancy wild
She taught me the way to be blest;
But Kitty could fancy the rest.
I have never forgot, I allow ;
But never by heart until now !
Pretty Martha was next, and my soul was all flame,
But my head was so full of romance,
But Martha was not of this fanciful school,
And she laughed at her poor little knight; While I thought her a goddess, she thought me a feol,
And I'll swear she was most in the right.
My soul was now calm, till, by Cloris's looks,
Again I was tempted to rove;
That she gave me more logic than love!
To those sweeter logicians in bliss,
And convince us at once with a kiss !
Oh ! Susan was then all the world unto me,
But Susan was piously given;
On the road that was shortest to heaven!
What's devotion to thee or to me?
And believe that that heaven's in thee!'
REMEMBER him thou leav'st behind,
Whose heart is warmly bound to thee,
A heart as warm as heart can be.
Oh! I had long in freedom roved,
Though many seemed my soul to share ; 'Twas passion when I thought I loved,
'Twas fancy when I thought them fair.
E'en she, my Muse's early theme,
Beguiled me only while she warmed ; 'Twas young desire that fed the dream,
And reason broke what passion formel.
But thou-ah! better hail it been
If I had still in freedom roved,
For then I never should have loved !
Then all the pain which lovers feel
Had never to my heart been known ;
Should they have ever been my own?
Oh! trust me, when I swear thee this,
Dearest ! the pain of loving thee, The very pain, is sweeter bliss
Than passion's wildest ecstasy!
That little cage I would not part,
In which my soul is prisoned now, For the most light and winged heart
That wantons on the passing vow.
Still, my beloved ! still keep in mind,
However far removed from me,
Whose heart respires for only thee !
Thy fate unto another's care That arm, which clasps thy bosom round,
Cannot confine the heart that's there.
No, no! that heart is only mine,
By ties all other ties above, For I have wed it at a shrine
Where we have had no priest but Love!
A CAPTIVE thus to thee, my girl,
How sweetly shall I pass my age, Contented, like the playful squirrel,
To wanton up and down my cage !
When Death shall envy joy like this,
And come to shade our sunny weatlier, Be our last sigh the sigh of bliss,
And both our souls exhaled together!
WHERE is the nymph, whose azure eye
Can shine through rapture's tear? The sun has sunk, the moon is high,
And yet she comes not here!
Her voice upon the gale?
Oh, maid of Marlivale !
Come to me, love, I've waudered far,
'Tis passed the promised hour : Come to me, love, the twilight star
Shall guide thee to my bower.
REUBEN AND ROSE.
A TALE OF ROMANCE.
The darkness which hung upon Willumberg's walls
Has long been remembered with awe and dismay! For years not a sunbeam had played in its halls,
And it seemed as shut out from the regions of day: Though the valleys were brightened by many a beam,
Yet none could the woods of the castle illume; And the lightning which flashed on the neighbouring stream
Flew back, as if fearing to enter the gloom !
Said Willumherg's lord to the seer of the cave.
Till the bright star of chivalry's sunk in the wave!'
Who could be but Reuben, the flower of the age ? For Reuben was first in the combat of men,
Though Youth had scarce written his name on her page. For Willumberg's daughter his bosom had beat,
For Rose, who was bright as the spirit of dawn, When with wand dropping diamonds, and silvery feet,
It walks o'er the flowers of the mountain and lawn ! Must Rose, then, from Reuben so fatally sever ?
Sad, sad were the words of the man in the cave, That darkness should cover the castle for ever,
Or Reuben be sunk in the merciless wave!
Shall my Reuben no more be restored to my eyes ?'-
Of the mouldering abbey, your Reuben shall rise !'
And Rose felt a moment's release from her pain;
And she hoped she might yet see her hero again !
When he felt that he died for the sire of his Rose ! To the Oder he flew, and there plunging beneath,
In the lapse of the billows soon found his repose.
How strangely the order of destiny falls !
Not long in the waters the warrior lay,
And the castle of Willumberg basked in the ray!
There sorrow and terror lay gloomy and blank : Two days did she wander, and all the long night,
In quest of her love on the wide river's bank. Oft, oft did she pause for the toll of the bell,
And she heard but the breathings of night in the air ; Long, long did she gaze on the watery swell,
And she saw but the foam of the white billow there.
And often as midnight its veil would undraw,
As she looked at the light of the moon in the stream, She thought 'twas his helmet of silver she saw,
As the curl of the surge glittered high in the beam. And now the third night was begemming the sky,
Poor Rose on the cold dewy margent reclined, There wept till the tear almost froze in her eye,
When, — hark ! 'twas the bell that came deep in the wind . She startled, and saw, through the glimmering shade,
A form o'er the waters in majesty glide ;
And his helmet of silver was washed by the tide.
Dim, dim through the phantom the moon shot a gleam ; 'Twas Reuben, but ah! he was deathly and cold,
And flitted away like the spell of a dream ! Twice, thrice did he rise, and as often she thought
From the bank to embrace him, but never, ah! never! Then springing beneath, at a billow she caught,
And sunk to repose on its bosom for ever!
ON THE BIRTHDAY OF MRS.
WRITTEN IN IRELAND.
Or all my happiest hours of joy,
And even I have had my measure,
Has kindled with the beams of pleasure !
So dear to friendship, dear to blisses ;