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STANZAS.

'Tis a sight to engage me, if anything can,

To muse on the perishing pleasures of man ;
Though his life be a dream, his enjoyments, I see,

Have a being less durable even than he.

COWPER.

STANZAS.

THE sun is warm, the sky is clear,

The waves are dancing fast and bright ;
Blue isles and snowy mountains wear
The purple noon's transparent light;

The breath of the moist air is light

Around its unexpanded buds;

Like many a voice of one delight

The winds, the birds, the ocean-floods, The city's voice itself is soft like solitude's.

I see the Deep's untrampled floor,
With green and purple sea-weeds strewn ;
I see the waves upon the shore,

Like light dissolved in star-showers thrown;

I sit upon the sands alone;

The lightning of the noon-tide ocean

Is flashing round me, and a tone

Arises from its measured motion-

How sweet! did any heart now share in my emotion.

Alas! I have nor hope nor health,
Nor peace within, nor calm around;

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Nor that Content surpassing wealth

The sage in meditation found;

And walked with inward glory crowned;

Nor fame, nor power, nor love, nor leisure ;-
Others I see whom these surround-

Smiling they live, and call life pleasure;

To me that cup has been dealt in another measure.

Yet now despair itself is mild,

Even as the winds and waters are;
I could lie down like a tired child,
And weep away the life of care,
Which I have borne, and yet must bear,
Till death, like sleep, might steal on me,
And I might feel in the warm air

My cheek grow cold, and hear the sea

Breathe o'er my dying brain its last monotony.

SHELLEY.

VERSES.

'NTHINKING, idle, wild, and young,

I laughed, and talked, and danced, and sung;
And, proud of health, of freedom vain,
Dreamed not of sorrow, care, or pain;

Concluding, in those hours of glee,

That all the world was made for me!

But when the days of trial came,

When sickness shook this trembling frame,

STANZAS.

When folly's gay pursuits were o'er,
And I could dance and sing no more;
It then occurred how sad 'twould be

Were this world only made for me!

PRINCESS AMELIA.

STANZAS.

HE day is cold, and dark, and dreary ;
It rains, and the wind is never weary ;
The vine still clings to the mouldering wall,
But at every gust the dead leaves fall
And the day is dark and dreary.

My life is cold, and dark, and dreary;

It rains, and the wind is never weary;

My thoughts still cling to the mouldering Past,
But the hopes of youth fall thick in the blast,
And the days are dark and dreary.

Be still, sad heart! and cease repining;
Behind the clouds is the sun still shining;

Thy fate is the common fate of all,-
Into each life some rain must fall,

Some days must be dark and dreary.

LONGFELLOW.

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THE FLIGHT OF LOVE.

LIFE.

HIS Life, which seems so fair,

Is like a bubble blown up in the air

By sporting children's breath,

Who chase it everywhere,

And strive who can most motion it bequeath.

And though it sometimes seem of its own might

Like to an eye of gold to be fixed there,

And firm to hover in that empty height,
That only is because it is so light.

-But in that pomp it doth not long appear,
For when 'tis most admiréd, in a thought,
Because it erst was nought, it turns to nought.

W. DRUMMOND,

THE FLIGHT OF LOVE.

HEN the lamp is shattered,
The light in the dust lies dead;
When the cloud is scattered,
The rainbow's glory is shed;

When the lute is broken,

Sweet tones are remembered not;

When the lips have spoken,

Loved accents are soon forgot.

As music and splendour

Survive not the lamp and the lute,

THE FLIGHT OF LOVE.

The heart's echoes render

No song when the spirit is mute,—
No song, but sad dirges,

Like the wind through a ruined cell,
Or the mournful surges

That ring the dead seaman's knell.

When hearts have once mingled,

Love first leaves the well-built nest;

The weak one is singled

To endure what it once possessed.

O Love! who bewailest

The frailty of all things here,

Why choose you the frailest

For your cradle, your home, and your bier ?

Its passions will rock thee,

As the storms rock the ravens on high;

Bright reason will mock thee,

Like the sun from a wintry sky.

From thy nest every rafter

Will rot, and thine eagle home

Leave thee naked to laughter,

When leaves fall and cold winds come.

SHELLEY.

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