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But when the foe returns,

Again the hero burns ;
High flames the sword in bis hand once more :

The clang of mingling arms

Is then the sound that charms, And brazen notes of war, that stirring trumpets pour ; Then comes the Harp, when the combat is over--

When heroes are resting, and Joy is in bloomWhen laurels hang loose from the brow of the lover,

And Cupid makes wings of the warrior's plume.

Light went the harp when the War-God, reclining,

Lay lull’d on the white arm of Beauty to rest, When round his rich armour the myrtle hung twining, And flights of young doves made his helmet their nest.

But, when the battle came,

The hero's eye breath'd flame : Soon from his neck the white arm was flung ;

While, to his wak’ning ear,

No other sounds were dear But brazen notes of war, by thousand trumpets sung. But then came the light harp, when danger was ended,

And beauty once more luli'd the War-God to rest; When tresses of gold with his laurels lay blended,

And flights of young doves made his helmet their nest.

DID NOT.

'Twas a new feeling--something more Than we had dared to own before,

Which then we hid not—which then we hid not; We saw it in each other's eye, And wish'd, in every half-breath'd sigh,

To speak, but did not-to speak, but did not.

She felt my lips' impassioned touch ;
'Twas the first time I dared so much,

And yet she chid not-and yet she chid not ;
But whisper'd o'er my burning brow,
Oh! do you doubt I love you now?'.
Sweet soul! I did not-sweet soul! I did not.

Warmly I felt her bosom thrill,
I press'd it closer, closer still,

Though gently bid not-though gently bid not;
Till-oh! the world hath seldom heard
Of lovers, who so nearly err'd,

And yet who did not-and yet who did not. .

IMITATION OF CATULLUS.

TO HIMSELF.

Miser Catulle, desinas ineptire, etc.

CEASE the sighing fool to play ;
Cease to trifle life away;
Nor vainly think those joys thine own,
Which all, alas ! have falsely flown !
What hours, Catullus, once were thine,
How fairly seemed thy day to shine,
When lightly thou didst fiy to meet
The girl, who smiled so rosy sweet-
The girl thou lovedst with fonder pain
Than e'er thy heart can feel again!
You met-your souls seemed all in one-
Sweet little sports were said and done-
Thy heart was warm enough for both,
And hers indeed was nothing loth.
Such were the hours that once were thine;
But, ah ! those hours no longer shine!
For now the nymph delights no more
In what she loved so dear before ;
And all Catullus now can do
Is to be proud and frigid too;
Nor follow where the wanton flies,
Nor sue the bliss that she denies.
False maid ! he bids farewell to thes,
To love, and all love's misery.
The heyday of his heart is o'er,
Nor will he court one favour more ;
But soon he'll see thee droop thy head,
Doomed to a lone and loveless bed,
When none will seek the happy night,
Or come to traffic in delight!
Fly, perjured girl !—but whither fly?
Who now will praise thy cheek and eye?
Who now will drink the syren tone,
Which tells him thou art all his own?
Who now will court thy wild delights,
Thy honey kiss, and turtle bites?
Oh! none.-And he who loved before
Can never, never love thee more!

A REFLECTION AT SEA.

SEE how, beneath the moonbeam's smile,

Yon little billow heaves its breast, And foams and sparkles for awhile,

And murmuring then subsides to rest.

Thus man, the sport of bliss and care,

Rises on Time's eventful sea ;
And, having swelled a moment there,

Thus melts into eternity!

SONG.

IF I swear by that eye, you'll allow

Its look is so shifting and new,
That the oath I might take on it now

The very next glance would undo!
Those babies that nestle so sly,

Such different arrows have got,
That an oath, on the glance of an eye

Such as yours, may be off in a shot !
Should I swear by the dew on your lip,

Though each moment the treasure renews,
If my constancy wishes to trip,

I may kiss off the oath when I choose !
Or a sigh may disperse from that flower

The dew and the oath that are there !
And I'd make a new vow every hour,

To lose them so sweetly in air !
But clear up that heaven of your brow,

Nor fancy my faith is a feather;
On my heart I will pledge you my vow,

And they both must be broken together!

ELEGIAC STANZAS,

CUPPOSED TO BE WRITTEN BY JULIA ON THE DEATH OF HER BROTH.

Though sorrow long has worn my heart ;

Though every day I've counted o'er
Has brought a new and quickening smart

To wounds that rankled fresh before;
Though in my earliest life bereft

Of many a link by nature tied ;
Though hope deceived, and pleasure left;

Though friends betrayed, and foes belied ;
I still had hopes- for hope will stay

After the sunset of delight;
So like the star which ushers day,

We scarce can think it heralds night!

I hoped that, after all its strife,

My weary heart at length should rest, And, fainting from the waves of life,

Find harbour in a brother's breast. That brother's breast was warm with truth,

Was bright with honour's purest ray; He was the dearest, gentlest youth

Oh ! why then was he torn away?
He should have stayed, have lingered liere,

To calm his Julia's every woe;
He should have chased each bitter tear,

And not have caused those tears to flow. We saw his youthful soul expand

In blooms of genius, nursed by taste; While Science, with a fostering hand,

Upon his brow her chaplet placed. We saw his gradual opening mind

Enriched by all the graces dear; Enlightened, social, and refined,

In friendship firm, in love sincere. Such was the youth we loved so well;

Such were the hopes that fate devied We loved, but, ah! we could not tell

How deep, how dearly, till he died ! Close as the fondest links could strain,

Twined with my very heart he grew; And by that fate which breaks the chain,

The heart is almost broken too!

SONG.

SWEETEST love! I'll not forget thee ;

Time shall only teach my heart,
Fonder, warmer, to regret thee,
Lovely, gentle as thou art !

Farewell, Bessy!
Yet, oh! yet again we'll meet, love,

And repose our hearts at last :
Oh ! sure 'twill then be sweet, love,
Calm to think on sorrows past. —

Farewell, Bessy !
Yes, my girl, the distant blessing,

Mayn't be always sought in vain ;
And the moment of possessing-
Will’t not, love, repay our pain ?- -

Farewell, Bessy!

Still I feel my heart is breaking,

When I think I stray from thee, Round the world that quiet seeking, Which I fear is not for me !

Farewell, Bessy !

Calm to peace thy lover's bosom

Can it, dearest! must it be?
Thou within an hour shalt lose him,
He for ever loses thee -

Farewell, Bessy!

SONG.

COME tell me where the maid is found

Whose heart can love without deceit, And I will range the world around,

To sigh one moment at her feet.

Oh! tell me where's her sainted home,

What air receives her blessed sigh ; A pilgrimage of years I'll roam

To catch one sparkle of her eye! And, if her cheek be rosy bright,

While truth within her bosom lies, I'll gaze upon her, morn and night,

Till my heart leave me through my eyes ! Show me on earth a thing so rare,

I'll own all miracles are true;
To make one maid sincere and fair,

Oh! 'tis the utenost Heaven can do !

TO

WITH all my soul, then, let us part,

Since both are anxious to be free; And I will send you home your heart,

If you will send back mine to me. We've had some happy hours together,

But joy must often change its wing; And spring would be but gloomy weather,

If we had nothing else but spring. 'Tis not that I expect to find

A more devoted, fond, and true one, With rosier cheek or sweeter mind

Enough for me that she's a new one.

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