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Might I perform the judge's part,
The sentence I should scarce deplore ;
Which but belong'd to thee before.
Is to become no longer free ;
Thou shalt be all in all to me.
Such expiation of my guilt:
Let it be death, or what thou wilt.
Nought shall thy dread decree prevent ;
Let it be ought but banishment.
LOVE'S LAST A DIE U.
'λεί, δ' αεί με φεύγει.-ANACREON. The roses of love glad the garden of life,
Though nurtured ’mid weeds dropping pestilent dew,
Or prunes them for ever, in love's last adieu.
In vain do we vow for an age to be true;
Or death disunite us in love's last adieu !
Will whisper, “Our meeting we yet may renew :",
Nor taste we the poison of love's last adieu !
Love twined round their childhood his flowers as they gT; They flourish awhile in the season of truth,
Till chill'd by the winter of love's last adieu ! Sweet lady! why thus doth a tear steal its way
Down a cheek which outrivals thy bosom in hue ? Yet why do I ask ?—to distraction a prey,
Thy reason has perish'd with love's last adieu ! Oh! who is yon misanthrope, shunning mankind ? From cities to caves
the forest he flew : There, raving, he howls bis complaint to the wind ;
The mountains reverberate love's last adieu !
Now bate rules a heart which in love's easy chains
Once passion's tumultuous blandishments knew,
He ponders in frenzy on love's last adieu !
His pleasures are scarce, yet his troubles are few,
And dreads not the anguish of love's last adieu !
No more with love's former devotion we sue:
The shroud of affection is love's last adieu !
Astrea declares that some penance is due ;
The atonement is ample in love's last adieu !
Must myrtle and cypress alternately strew : His myrtle, an emblem of purest delight; His
cypress the garland of love's last adieu !
Love's a stranger to thy breast; . In law, every person is an infant who has not attained the age of twenty-one.
He in dimpling smiles appears, Or mourns in sweetly timid tears, Or bends the languid eyelid down, But shuns the cold forbidding frown. Then resume thy former fire, Some will love, and all admire; While that icy aspect chills us, Nought but cool indifference thrills us. Wouldst thou wandering hearts beguile, Smile at least, or seem to smile. Eyes like thine were never meant To hide their orbs in dark restraint; Spite of all thou fain wouldst say, Still in truant beams they play. Thy lips—but here my modest muse Her impulse chaste must needs refuse : She blushes, curt’sies, frowns-in short she Dreads lest the subject should transport me; And flying off in search of reason, Brings prudence back in proper season ; All I shall therefore say (whate'er I think, is neither here nor there) Is, that such lips, of looks endearing, Were form’d for better things than sneering Of smoothing compliments divested, Advice at least's disinterested ; Such is my artless song to thee, From all the flow of flattery free; Counsel like mine is like a brother's, My heart is given to soine others ; That is to say, unskill'd to cozen, It shares itself among a dozen. Marion, adieu ! oh, prythee slight not This warning, though it may delight unt; And, lest my precepts be displeasing To those who think remonstrance teasing, At once I'll tell thee our opinion Concerning woman's soft dominion : Howe'er we gaze with admiration On eyes of blue or lips carnation, Howe'er the flowing locks attract us, Howe'er those beauties may distract us, Still fickle, we are prone to rove, These cannot fix our souls to love : It is not too severe a stricture To say they form a pretty picture; But wouldst thou see the secret chain Which binds us in your humble train, To hail you queens of all creation, Know, in a word, 'tis ANIMATION.
TO A LADY,
HO PRESENTED TO THE AUTHOR A LOCK OF HAIR BRAID SD WITH HIS OWN, AND APPOINTED A NIGHT IN DECEMBER TO MEET HIM IN THE GARDEN.
THESE locks, which fondly thus entwine,
• In the above little piece, the author has been accuced by some candid render Introducing the naine of a lady from whom he was some hundred miles distant at the tica. this was written; and poor Juliet, who has slept so long in " " he tomb of all the Capulets," has been converted, with a trifling alteration of het nie, into an English dainsel, walking in a garden of their own creation, during the neonth of December, in • village where the author never passed a winter. Such has been the candour of some ingenious critics. We would adviso those liberal commentator on laste and arbitars of decorum to read Shakspean
Then, if my passion fail to pleasc,
OSCAR OF ALVA.t
How sweetly shines through azure skies
The lamp of heaven on Lora's shore;
And hear the din of arms no more.
On Alva's casques of silver play'd ;
Her chiefs in gleaming mail array'd :
Which scowl o'er ocean's sullen How,
She saw the gasping warrior low;
Could mark the rising orb of day,
Beheld in death her fading ray.
They bless'd her dear propitious light;
A sad, funereal torch of night.
And gray her towers are seen afar ;
Or roll the crimson tide of war.
Why grows the moss on Alva's stone ?
They ecbo to the gale alone.
A sound is heard in yonder hall;
And vibrates o'er the mouldering wall.
Having heard that a very severe and indelicate censure has been passed on the above poem, I beg leave to reply, in a quotation from an adınired work," Carr - Stranger in
rance."-" As we were contevu plating a painting on a large scale, in which, among other igures, is the uncovered whole-length of u warrior, & prudislı-looking lady, who seemed o have touched the age of desperation, after having attentively surveyed it through her glass, observed to her party, that there was a great deal of indecorum in that pirtura Madame 8. shrewdly whispered in my ear that the indecoruw was in the remark."
The catastrophe of this tale was suggested by the story of " Jeronyme and Lorenzu," in the first volume of Schiller's “ Armenian, or the Ghost-bear." It also bears some Osemblance to a spone in the third act of " Macbeth."