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But the warm sun thaws the benumbed earth,
And makes it tender; gives a sacred birth
To the dead swallow; wakes in hollow tree
The drowsy cuckoo and the humble bee.-
Now do choir of chirping minstrels bring,
In triumph to the world, the youthful Spring :
The valleys, hills, and woods, in rich array,
Welcome the coming of the longed-for May.
Now all things smile-only my love doth lour:
Nor hath the scalding noon-day sun the power
To melt that marble ice, which still doth hold
Her heart congealed, and makes her pity cold.
The ox, which lately did for shelter fly
Into the stall, doth now securely lie
In open fields; and love no more is made
By the fireside: but in the cooler shade
Amyntas now doth with his Chloris sleep
Under a sycamore, and all things keep
Time with the season-only she doth carry
June in her eyes, in her heart January.


THE wild-winged creature, clad in gore;
(His bloody human meal being o'er,)


Fuller's Bird.

"I HAVE read of a bird, which hath a face like, and yet will prey upon, a man; who coming to the water to drink, and finding there by reflection that he hath killed one like himself, pineth away by degrees, and never afterwards enjoyeth itself."-FULLER'S WORTHIES.

Comes down to the water's brink:
"T is the first time he there hath gazed,
And straight he shrinks-alarmed-amazed,
And dares not drink.

"Have I till now," he sadly said,

“Preyed on my brother's blood, and made
His flesh my meal to-day?"

Once more he glances in the brook,
And once more sees his victim's look;
Then turns away.

With such sharp pain as human hearts
May feel, the drooping thing departs
Unto the dark wild wood;

And there, 'midst briars and sheltering weeds,
He hideth his remorse, and feeds
No more on blood.

And in that weedy brake he lies,

And pines, and pines, until he dies;
And when all 's o'er,-

What follows?-Nought! his brothers slake
Their thirst in blood in that same brake,
Fierce as before!

So Fable flows!-But would you find
Its moral wrought in human kind,
Its tale made worse ;

Turn straight to Man, and in his fame
And forehead read "The Harpy's" name;
But no remorse!






THE castled crag of Drachenfels

Frowns o'er the wide and winding Rhine,
Whose breast of waters broadly swells
Between the banks which bear the vine,
And hills all rich with blossomed trees,
And fields which promise corn and wine,
And scattered cities crowning these,
Whose far white walls along them shine,
Have strewed a scene, which I should see
With double joy wert thou with me.


And peasant girls, with deep blue eyes,
And hands which offer early flowers,
Walk smiling o'er this paradise;
Above, the frequent feudal towers
Through green leaves lift their walls of gray,
And many a rock which steeply lowers,
And noble arch in proud decay,
Look o'er this vale of vintage-bowers;


But one thing want these banks of Rhine,-
Thy gentle hand to clasp in mine!


I send the lilies given to me;
Though long before thy hand they touch,
I know that they must withered be,
But yet reject them not as such;
For I have cherished them as dear,
Because they yet may meet thine eye,
And guide thy soul to mine even here,
When thou beholdst them drooping nigh,
And knowst them gathered by the Rhine,
And offered from my heart to thine!


The river nobly foams and flows,
The charm of this enchanted ground,
And all its thousand turns disclose
Some fresher beauty varying round;
The haughtiest breast its wish might bound
Through life to dwell delighted here;

Nor could on earth a spot be found
To nature and to me so dear,
Could thy dear eyes in following mine
Still sweeten more these banks of Rhine!

BYRON.-[From "Childe Harold," canto iii.]


The Spanish Lady's Love.

WILL you hear a Spanish lady

How she wooed an English man? Garments gay as rich as may be

Decked with jewels she had on.

Of a comely countenance and grace was she,
And by birth and parentage of high degree.

As his prisoner there he kept her,
In his hands her life did lie;
Cupid's bands did tie them faster

By the liking of an eye.

In his courteous company was all her joy,
To favour him in anything she was not coy.

But at last there came commandment
For to set the ladies free,

With their jewels still adorned,

None to do them injury.

Then said this lady mild, "Full woe is me!
O let me still sustain this kind captivity!

“Gallant captain, show some pity
To a lady in distress;

Leave me not within this city,
For to die in heaviness:


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