That reeling goddess with a zoneless waist,
And wand'ring eyes, still leaning on the arm
Of novelty, her fickle, frail support :

For thou art meek and constant, hating change,
And finding, in the calm of truth-tried love,
Joys that her stormy raptures never yield.
Forsaking thee, what shipwreck have we made
Of honour, dignity, and fair renown.

COWPER.

WEDDED LOVE.

There is a love! 'tis not the wandering fire
That must be fed on folly, or expire;

Gleam of polluted hearts, the meteor ray

That fades as rises Reason's nobler day;

But passion made essential, holy, bright,

Like the rais'd dead, our dust transform'd to light-
Earth has its pangs for all; its happiest breast

Not his who meets them least, but bears them best-
Life must be toil! yet oh, that toil how drear!
But for this soother of its brief career-

The charm that virtue, beauty, fondness bind,
Till the mind mingles with its kindred mind!

"Tis not the cold romancer's ecstasy,
The flame new lit at every passing eye,

But the high impulse that the stately soul
Feels slow engross it, but engross it whole;
Yet seeks it not, nay, turns with stern disdain
On its own weakness that can wear a chain;
Still wrestling with the angel, till its pride
Feels all the strength departed from its side-
Then join'd, and join'd for ever loving, lov'd,
Life's darkest hours are met, and met unmov'd;
Hand link'd in hand, the wedded pair pass on
Thro' the world's changes, still unchanging, one;
On earth, one heart, one hope, one joy, one gloom,
One closing hour, one undivided tomb!

CROLY.

“Hail, holy Love! thou word that sums all bliss,
Gives and receives all bliss, fullest when most
Thou givest! spring-head of all felicity,
Deepest when most is drawn! emblem of God!
O'erflowing most when greatest numbers drink!

Essence that binds the uncreated Three,
Chain that unites creation to its Lord,
Centre to which all being gravitates,
Eternal, ever-growing, happy Love!

Enduring all, hoping, forgiving all;
Instead of law, fulfilling every law;

Entirely blest, because thou seek'st no more,

Hop'st not, nor fear'st; but on the present liv'st
And hold'st perfection smiling in thy arms-
Mysterious, infinite, exhaustless Love!

On earth mysterious, and mysterious still
In Heaven! sweet chord, that harmonizes all
The harps of Paradise! the spring, the well
That fills the bowl and banquet of the sky!

But why should I to thee of Love divine?
Who happy, and not eloquent of Love?
Who holy, and, as thou art, pure, and not
A temple where her glory ever dwells,

Where burn her fires, and beams her perfect eye?
Kindred to this, part of this holy flame,

Was youthful love-the sweetest boon of earth-
Hail, Love! first Love, thou word that sums all bliss!

The sparkling cream of all Time's blessedness,

The silken down of happiness complete!

Discerner of the ripest grapes of joy,

She gathered, and selected with her hand
All finest relishes, all fairest sights,

All rarest odours, all divinest sounds,

All thoughts, all feelings dearest to the soul;

And brought the holy mixture home, and filled

The heart with all superlatives of bliss,

But, who would that expound, which words transcends,

Must talk in vain

¡POLLOK.

WOMAN'S LOVE.

Oh! woman's love's a holy light!
And when 'tis kindled ne'er can die;
It lives through treachery and slight
To quench the constant flame may try.
Like ivy, where it grows 'tis seen
To wear an everlasting green;
Like ivy, too, 'tis found to cling
Too often round a worthless thing-

O woman's love! at times it may

Seem cold or clouded, but it burns

With true undeviating ray,

Nor ever from its idol turns

Its sunshine is a smile,-a frown

The heavy cloud that weighs it down;

A tear its weapon is-beware

Of woman's tears,-there's danger there!

Its sweetest place on which to rest,

A constant and confiding breast-
Its joy, to meet-its death, to part-

Its sepulchre, a broken heart.

ANON.

THE WIDOW AT HER DAUGHTER'S BRIDAL.

"Deal gently thou, whose hand hath won The young bird from its nest away,

Where careless, 'neath a vernal sun,

She gaily carol'd, day by day;

The haunt is lone, the heart must grieve,
From whence her timid wing doth soar;
They pensive list at hush of eve,

Yet hear her gushing song no more.

Deal gently with her,-thou art dear,
Beyond what vestal lips have told,
And, like a lamb from fountains clear,
She turns confiding to thy fold;

She round thy sweet domestic bower

The wreath of changeless love shall twine,

Watch for thy step at Vesper hour,

And blend her holiest prayer with thine.

Deal gently thou, when, far away,

'Mid stranger scenes her foot shall rove,

Nor let thy tender care decay,—

The soul of woman lives in love: