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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 !

THE SHRINE.

TO

My fates had destined me to rove
A long, long pilgrimage of love ;
And many an altar on my way
Has lured my pious steps to stay;
For, if the saint was young and fair,
I turned and sung my vespers there.
This, from a youthful pilgrim's tire,
Is what your pretty saints require :
To pass, nor tell a single bead,
With them would be profane indeed !-
But, trust me, all this young devotion,
Was but to keep my zeal in motion ;
And, every humbler altar past,
I now have reached THE SHRINE at last !

THE CATALOGUE.

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.'
Oh, Rosa ! 'twas only my fancy that roved,

My heart at the moment was free ;
But I'll tell thee, my girl, how many I've loved,

And the number shall finish with thee!

My tutor was Kitty; in infancy wild

She taught me the way to be blest;
She taught me to love her, I loved like a child,

But Kitty could fancy the rest.
This lesson of dear and enrapturing lore

I have never forgot, I allow ;
I have had it by rote very often before,

But never by heart until now !

Pretty Martha was next, and my soul was all flame,

But my head was so full of romance,
That I fancied her into some chivalry dame,
And I was her knight of the lance ?

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;
But "Cloris, I found, was so learned in books,

That she gave me more logic than love!
So I left this young Sappho, and hasteneci to fly

To those sweeter logicians in bliss,
Who argue the point with a soul-telling eye,

And convince us at once with a kiss !

Oh ! Susan was then all the world unto me,

But Susan was piously given;
And the worst of it was, we could never agree

On the road that was shortest to heaven!
“Oh, Susan !' I've said, in the moments of mirth,

What's devotion to thee or to me?
I devoutly believe there's a heaven on earth,

And believe that that heaven's in thee!'

TO

REMEMBER him thou leav'st behind,

Whose heart is warmly bound to thee,
Close as the tenderest livks can bind

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,
If I had ne'er thy beauties seen,

For then I never should have loved !

Then all the pain which lovers feel

Had never to my heart been known ;
But, ah! the joys which lovers steal,

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,
That there is one thou leav'st behind,

Whose heart respires for only thee !
And though ungenial ties have bound

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!

SONG.

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!

SONG.

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!
Was that her footstep on the hill--

Her voice upon the gale?
No; 'twas the wind, and all is still :

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 ! "Oh ! when shall this horrible darkness disperse ?'

Said Willumherg's lord to the seer of the cave. It can never dispel,' said the wizard of verse,

Till the bright star of chivalry's sunk in the wave ! And who was the bright star of chivalry then?

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!
She flew to the wizard—' And tell me, oh tell !

Shall my Reuben no more be restored to my eyes ?'-
Yes, yes—when a spirit shall toll the great bell

Of the mouldering abbey, your Reuben shall rise !
Twice, thrice he repeated, Your Reuben shall rise !

And Rose felt a moment's release from her pain;
She wiped, while she listened, the tears from her eyes,

And she hoped she might yet see her hero again!
Her hero could smile at the terrors of death,

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.

Ilow strangely the order of destiny falls !

Not long in the waters the warrior lay,
When a sunbeam was seen to glance over the walls,

And the castle of Willumberg basked in the ray !
All, all but the soul of the maid was in light,

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 ;
She knew 'twas her love, though his cheek was decayed,

And his helmet of silver was washed by the tide.
Was this what the seer of the cave had foretold ?--

Dim, dim through the phantom the moon shot a gleam ; 'Twas Reuben, but ah! he was deathly and cold,

And fitted 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!

SONG.

ON THE BIRTHDAY OF MRS.

WRITTEN IN IRELAND.

Or all my happiest hours of joy,

And even I have had my measure,
When hearts were full and every eye

Has kindled with the beams of pleasure ! -
Such hours as this I ne'er was given,

So dear to friendship, dear to blisses ;

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