The cope of heaven seems rent and cloven By the enchantment of thy strain, And on my shoulders wings are woven, To follow its sublime career, Beyond the mighty moons that wane Upon the verge of nature's utmost sphere, My heart is quivering like a flame; As morning dew, that in the sunbeam dies, I have no life, Constantia, now, but thee; Secure o'er rocks and waves I sweep, Rejoicing like a cloud of morn ; Now 'tis the breath of summer night, Which, when the starry waters sleep, Round western isles, with incense-blossoms bright, Lingering, suspends my soul in its voluptuous flight. Shelley. R 12. BRIDAL SONG. OOSES, their sharp spines being gone, But in their hue; Maiden pinks, of odour faint, Daisies smell-less, yet most quaint, And sweet thyme true; Primrose, first-born child of Ver, Oxlips in their cradles growing, All, dear Nature's children sweet, Not an angel of the air, Be absent hence! The crow, the slanderous cuckoo, nor May on our bridehouse perch or sing, But from it fly! Beaumont and Fletcher. 13. THE BRIDE. JER finger was so small, the ring HE 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) Her feet beneath her petticoat, But ho! she dances such a way! Her cheeks so rare a white was on, (Who sees them is undone,) For streaks of red were mingled there, Her lips were red, and one was thin But (Dick) her eyes so guard her face, Than on the sun in July. Suckling. [From A Ballad upon a Wedding ] 14. THE LOST WIFE. LONE, by my solitary hearth, Whence peace hath fled, And home-like joys and innocent mirth Silent and sad, I linger to recall The memory of all In thee, dear partner of my cares, I lost; Cares, shared with thee, more sweet than joys the world can boast. My home-why did I say my home! Now have I none, Unless thou from the grave again couldst come, Beloved one! My home was in thy trusting heart, Where'er thou wert; My happy home in thy confiding breast, Where my worn spirit refuge found and rest. I know not if thou wast most fair And best of womankind; Or whether earth yet beareth fruits more rare To ME, I know, thou wert the fairest, Kindest, dearest, That heaven to man in mercy ever gave, And more than man from heaven deserved to have. Never from thee, sweet wife, Came word or look awry, Nor peacock pride, nor sullen fit, nor strife Calm and controlled thy spirit was, and sure My friend, protectress, guide, whose gentle will Compelled my good, withholding from me ill No art of selfishness Thy generous nature knew ; Thy life all love, thy bliss the power to bless; Content, if to thy lot the world should bring Unhappy, if permitted but to share Part of my griefs, wouldst both our burthens bear. My joy, my solace, and my pride I found thee still : Whatever change our fortunes might betide Of good or ill, Worthier I was life's blessing to receive While thou didst live; All that I had of good in others' sight, Reflected shone thy virtue's borrowed light. The lute unstrung-the meals in silence ate The widowed bed-the chamber desolate, The tear at parting, and the greeting kiss, Endearments fond, and solaced hours, and all The important trivial things men comfort call. Oh! mayst thou, if permitted, from above Encompass me with ever-during love, Still be my guardian spirit, lest I be Unworthy thee; Still, as on earth, thy grace celestial give, SO GUIDE MY LIFE AS THOU WOULDST HAVE ME LIVE. John Fisher Murray. 15. IF I HAD THOUGHT THOU COULDST HAVE DIED. F I had thought thou couldst have died, IF I might not weep for thee; But I forgot, when by thy side, And I on thee should look my last, And still upon that face I look, But, when I speak, thou dost not say |