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THE BEAUTY OF VIRTUE
LL earthly charms, however dear,
will quickly fade and fly; of earthly glory faint the blaze, and soon the transitory rays
in endless darkness die.
or know a sad decay;
beam everlasting day.
THE EARTH'S BOUNTY
'HE Earth that in her genial breast
where wafted by the warm south-west
it floats at pleasure,
to nurse her treasure:
true to her trust, tree, herb or reed,
gives large increase:
and will not cease.
HE had left all on earth for him,
her home of wealth, her name of pride,
'The thoughtful moon awaits her turn,
R. M. MILNES
THE PRAYER OF ORPHEUS
Y the streams that ever flow,
by the fragrant winds that blow
or amaranthine bowers;
wandering in the myrtle grove,
THE STUDY OF NATURE BRINGS NOT HAPPINESS
OR can it bliss you bring why matter changeth, whence each form doth spring; nor that your fame should range, and after-worlds it blow
from Tanais to Nile, from Nile to Gange:
to free the mind from fears,
TURN, Fortune, turn thy wheel and lower the proud ;
turn thy wild wheel thro' sunshine, storm and cloud; thy wheel and thee we neither love nor hate.
Turn, Fortune, turn thy wheel with smile or frown;
TO THE CICADA
, " ,
! thou who
and the hush'd grove, with thy sweet minstrelsyafter long tedious winters, when the sun
through the brief summer speeds his whirling ray, with thy shrill chiding, as he hastens on,
check his too rapid wheels and urge delay. The brightest day that dawns on mortal eyes,
hurries—ah! fleetly hurries to its closene'er long enough to rapture are his joys, ever too long to anguish are her woes.
‘ARE, thou canker of all joys!
see the tyrant's reign is o'er; fill the merry bowl, my boys,
join the bacchanalian roar; o'er the merry midnight bowl,
O! how merry will we be, day was made for vulgar souls,
night, my boys, for you and me. Seize the villain, plunge him in,
see! the hated miscreant dies; mirth, with all thy train come in,
banish sorrow, tears and sighs.
H! that we two were maying
ETIRE, and timely, from the world, if ever
its gaudy jewels from thy bosom sever,
despise its pomp and praise.
its slightest ripple shakes,
her brooding nest forsakes.
in the still skies alone;
W. S. LANDOR
WE'LL GO NO MORE A ROVING
O, we'll go no more a roving
though the heart be still as loving,
and the moon be still as bright. For the sword outwears its sheath,
and the heart wears out the breast, and lips must pause to breathe,
and love itself have rest.
Though the night was made for loving
and the day returns too soon, yet we'll go no more a roving
by the light of the moon.
pleasure in every clime I've found,
but sought in vain for rest.
I feel that one's too wide,
worth all the world beside.
wanders unconscious where;
it trembling settles there.
GRIEF AND BEAUTY
which like growing fountains rise