Aylet the loud winds whistle o'er the deck,
So that those arms cling closer round my neck;
The deepest murmur of this life shall be
No sigh for safety, but a prayer for thee!1

O sole, in whom my thoughts find all repose,
My glory, my perfection; glad I see

Thy face and morn returned.2

Borne by my steed, or wafted by my sail,
Across the desert, or before the gale,

Bound where thou wilt, my barb, or glide, my prow;
But be the star, that guides the wanderer, thou!
Thou, my Zuleika, share and bless my bark,
The dove of peace and promise to mine ark;
Or, since that hope denied in worlds of strife,
Be thou the rainbow to the storms of life,
The evening beam that smiles the clouds away,
And tints to-morrow with prophetic ray.3

Her sympathy with me in my afflictions will make her virtues shine with greater lustre, as stars in the darkest nights, and assure the envious world that she loves me, not my fortunes.

The less I may be blessed with her company, the more I will retire to God and my own heart, whence no malice can banish her. My enemies may envy, but they can never deprive me of the enjoyment of her virtues, while I enjoy myself.4

My letter is already so long-but 'tis as if I were bewitched to-night, I can't end for my life; but

1 Bride of Abydos. 2 Par. Lost. 3 Bride of Abydos. Charles I. to Queen Henrietta, EIKON BAZIAIKH, 38, 89.

I

will force myself now, beseeching God to bless you, and keep you from all dangers whatsoever, and send us a happy meeting again here upon earth, and at last a joyful and blessed one in heaven, in his good time. Farewell; do but continue to love me, and forgive the taking up so much of your time to your poor wife, who deserves more pity than any creature did, and who loves you a great deal too much for her own ease, though it can't be more than you deserve.1

What refreshment and delight, to sit down to address these lines to the object of my every thought! I will begin with telling you I am well; for that, it is my happiness to know, my adored first wishes to hear; and I will next tell myself (and trust in Heaven that my hopes don't deceive me) that this letter will find you and all our little angels in perfect health; them in joyful, you in serene and happy, spirits.

I wait with longing impatience for the groom's return, with ample details of you and yours. Send me, my sweetest life, a thousand particulars of all those little great things which to those, who are blessed as we, so far surpass in excellence and exceed in attraction all the great little things of the busy, restless world.2

God knows when I shall have time to write to the children, but kiss them kindly from me.

1 From Queen Mary II. to William III. See Dalrymple, ii. App. X. 2 See in Lord Chatham's Correspondence, i. 457., the beautiful letter from which this is an extract.

You cannot imagine how I am pleased with the children; for, having nobody but their maid, they are so fond of me, that when I am at home they will be always with me, kissing and hugging me. I shall say no more, only beg that you will love me always as well as I love you; and then we cannot but be happy.'

In that kind voice, familiar, dear,

Which tells of confidence, of home —
Of habit, that hath drawn hearts near,
Till they grow one of faith sincere,

And all that love most loves to hear!
A music, breathing of the past,

The present, and the time to be,
Where hope and memory, to the last,
Lengthen out life's true harmony! 2

Quand le Providence réunit à ce lien si cher tout le prestige de l'amour; quand l'enfant, qu'on chérissoit comme le sien, est encore l'image de l'objet qu'on aime; quand on retrouve dans l'âme qu'il est si doux de développer, celle qu'il est doux de reconnoître; quel bonheur peut exister au-delà de cette intime réunion des sentimens les plus faits pour le cœur de l'homme ?3

Perfect esteem, enlivened by desire
Ineffable, and sympathy of soul;

Thought meeting thought, and will preventing will,

1 From the great Duke of Marlborough to Sarah, his Duchess.

See Life by Coxe.

2 Moore (Loves of the Angels).

3 Madame de Staël (Pauline).

With boundless confidence; for nought but love
Can conquer love, and render bliss secure.

Till evening comes, at last, serene and mild,
When, after the long vernal day of life,
Enamour'd more, as more remembrance swells
With many a proof of recollected love,
Together down they sink in social sleep;
Together freed, their gentle spirits fly

To scenes where love and bliss immortal reign.1

I have seldom experienced so sensibly as at that moment the enjoyment of mere existence; yet I wanted a companion of congenial tastes:—

Joy flies monopolists—It calls for two.

The affection and pleasure with which, as "The curfew toll'd the knell of parting day,"

he finished his toils, were so animated and genuine, that the sun, in the zenith of its splendour, was never more ardently hailed, than the cool silent evening star whose soft glimmering light restored him to the bosom of his family; not there, to murmur at his fatigues, lament his troubles, or recount his wearisome exertions, but to return, with cheerful kindness, their tender greetings; to enliven them with the news, the anecdotes, and the rumours of the day; to make a spontaneous catalogue raisonné of the people he had mixed with or seen; and always to bring home any new publication, political, poetical, or ethical, that was making any noise in the world.2

1 Thomson.

2 Dr. Burney. See Memoirs by his Daughter, i. 199.

Whence, then, this strange increase of joy?
He, only he, can tell, who, match'd like me,
If such another happy man there be,
Has by his own experience tried

How much the wife is dearer than the bride.'

O best of wives! O dearer far to me
Than when thy virgin charms

Were yielded to my arms,

How can my soul endure the loss of thee!
How in this world, to me a desert grown,
Abandon'd and alone,

Without my sweet companion can I live!
She with endearing art

Would heal thy wounded heart

Of every secret grief that fester'd there.
How did her fond affection on the bed
Of sickness watch thee, and thy languid head
Whole nights on her unwearied arm sustain,
And charm away the sense of pain!2

Le plus grand des plaisirs c'est cette admiration du cœur qui remplit tous les momens, donne un but à toutes les actions, une émulation continuelle au perfectionnement de soi-même, et place auprès de soi la véritable gloire ;- l'approbation de l'amie qui vous honore en vous aimant.

Distant praise, from whatever quarter, is not so delightful as that of a wife whom a man loves and esteems.3

I am sure it is not to exalt the commerce with

1 Lord Lyttelton.

3 Johnson (Boswell), i. 186.

2 Idem.