Thine, too, other gifts above, COMPARISON. BY MRS. JOHN HUNTER. L. E. L. I saw the wild rose on its parent thorn, Half-closed, soft blushing through the glittering dew, Wave in the breeze and scent the breath of morn, Lelia, the lovely flower resembled you. Scarce had it spread to meet the orb of day, Its fragrant beauties opening to the view, When ruffian blasts had whirled the rose away; Lelia, alas! it still resembles you. So torn by wild and lawless Passion's force THE CAVES OF YORKSHIRE. BY WILLIAM WORDSWORTH, ESQ. I. PURE element of waters, wheresoe'er Thou dost forsake thy subterranean haunts, Green herbs, bright flowers, and berry-bearing plants, And, through the sunny portion of the year, And, if thy bounty fail, the forest pants, Of central earth, where tortured spirits pine For grace and goodness lost, thy murmurs melt II. MALHAM COVE. Was the aim frustrated by force or guile, When giants scooped from out the rocky ground Tier under tier this semicerque profound. Giants the same who built in Erin's Isle That Causeway with incomparable toil! Oh! had the Crescent stretched its horns, and wound, With finished sweep, into a perfect round, No mightier work had gained the plausive smile Of all-beholding Phœbus! but, alas! Vain earth! false world! Foundations must be laid In heaven; for, 'mid the wreck of is and was, Things incomplete, and purposes betrayed, III. GORDALE. At early dawn, or when the warmer air Glimmers with fading light, and shadowy eve At either moment let thy feet repair To Gordale chasm, terrific as the lair Where the young lion's couch; for then, by leave And mineral crown, beside his jagged urn Recumbent !-Him thou may'st behold, who hides His lineaments from day, and there presides Teaching the docile waters how to turn; Or if need be, impediment to spurn, And force their passage toward the salt sea tides. Blackwood's Magazine. FRAGMENT. LOVE once dwelt in a palmy isle, Whose guardian was a dark-eyed Maid. They lived in sweet companionship: To watch his chain, to keep it light. But once the Nymph lay down to sleep, L. E. L. HE NEVER SMILED AGAIN. BY MRS. HEMANS. Henry I. (after the loss of Prince William) entertained hopes, for three days, that his son had put into some distant port of England; but when certain intelligence of the calamity was brought him, he fainted away; and it was remarked, that he never afterwards was seen to smile, nor ever recovered his wonted cheerfulness. THE bark that held a Prince went down, The sweeping waves rolled on; And what was England's glorious crown He lived-for life may long be borne Ere sorrow break its chain! Why comes not death to those that mourn ? He never smiled again! There stood proud forms around his throne, The stately and the brave; But which could fill the place of one, That one beneath the wave? Before him passed the young and fair In pleasure's reckless train; But seas dashed o'er his son's bright hair, He sat where festal bowls went round, He saw the tourney's victor crowned A murmur of the restless deep Seemed blent with every strain, A voice of winds that would not sleep— Hearts, in that time, closed o'er the trace Of vows once fondly poured, And stranger's took the kinsman's place - HUME. Graves which true love had washed with tears STANZAS BY LORD BYRON. AND wilt thou weep when I am low? My heart is sad!-my hopes are gone!— My blood runs coldly through my breast; And when I perish, thou alone Wilt sigh above my place of rest. And yet, methinks, a beam of peace Doth through my cloud of anguish shine; And, for a while my sorrows cease To know that heart hath felt for mine! O Lady! blessed be that tear, It falls for one who cannot weep; Such precious drops are doubly dear To those whose eyes no tears may steep. Sweet Lady! once my heart was warm Then wilt thou weep when I am low? Sweet Lady! speak those words again! Yet, if they grieve thee, say not so; I would not give thy bosom pain! New Monthly Magazine. |