FROM AN UNPUBLISHED TALE .

For thee, love, for thee, love,
I'll brave fate's sternest storm;
She cannot daunt or chill the hearts
Which love keeps bold and warm:
And when her clouds are blackest, nought
But thy sweet self I'll see,
Nor hear, amidst the tempest, aught
But thee, love, only thee.

For thee, love, for thee, love,
My fond heart would resign
The brightest cup that pleasure fills,

But to have hung enamoured on those lips
To drink the passion of those beaming eyes!
Yet, yet to feel th'intoxicating power
Which stole into my heart at every word
Of that soft voice that vibrates in my ear —
Thus to have loved and loved to extasy
And be beloved again — Oh rapturous bliss!
Destroyed and lost! Yes all on earth conspired
Against the voice of Heaven; against my hopes;
And must I never more indulge the dreams
That love to call thee by a name even yet
More fond more sacred more endeared than lover?

Back in those days ere I thought of love,
Kissing at games in a picnic grove,
Cried one lass as she made a spring:
" Make me a Lap! you stingy thing! "
Down in my lap sat the tired madcap
And in a snap she had " made her a Lap. "

Lissome, pliant, innocent vine,
Still to my heart I can feel her twine,
Trustfully as my kitten's play,
Light as the birds in that greenwood day;
Sweet as the sap in the fruit tree's tap,
Vine-like her wrap as I " made her a Lap. "

Country heart! there is no mishap, —

We are climbin' Jacob's ladder,
Soldier(s) of the cross.

Ev'ry round goes higher 'n' higher,
Soldier(s) of the cross.

Sinner ( or : brother), do you love my Jesus?
Soldier(s) of the cross.

Rise, shine, give God the glory,
Soldier(s) of the cross.

Another couplet:

If you love Him, why not serve Him?

When Love, who ruled as Admiral o'er
Has rosy mother's isles of light,
Was cruising off the Paphian shore,
A sail at sunset hove in sight.
" A chase, a chase! my Cupids all. "
Said Love, the little Admiral.

Aloft the winged sailors sprung,
And, swarming up the mast like bees,
The snow-white sails expanding flung,
Like broad magnolias to the breeze.
" Yo ho, yo ho, my Cupids all! "
Said Love, the little Admiral.

The chase was o'er — the bark was caught,

Ask not if still I love,
Too plain these eyes have told thee;
Too well their tears must prove
How near and dear I hold thee.
If, where the brightest shine,
To see no form but thine,
To feel that earth can show
No bliss above thee, —
If this be love, then know
That thus, that thus, I love thee.

'T is not in pleasure's idle hour
That thou canst know affection's power.
No, try its strength in grief or pain;
Attempt as now its bonds to sever,
Thou 'lt find true love 's a chain
That binds forever!

By Mr. Brown .

Whether we Mortals love or no,
'Tis the same Case whate'er we do.
For Love does killing Pleasure give,
And without Love 'tis Death to Live:
If then to love, so painful be,
And not to love be Misery,
What a sad Case must he be in,
Who has disgrac'd and jilted been?
Banish'd for ever from those Eyes,
Which conquer Fools, and fool the Wise,
And none but Stoicks can despise?
They conquer, but they will not yield,
Love knows no such unequal Field:
Eat in Love's gentle Fight

A Poem.

M Y muse of Thirsis sings, and of the shade,
Where he, poor shepherd, with his Daphne stray'd:
On D UNSMORE waste, there stands a shady grove,
The sweet recess of solitude and love;
Hazles on this, on that side elms are seen,
To shade the verdant path that leads between.
A rose, less lovely than young Thirsis gay,
Adorns the sprig that bends across the way;
The way that does with various flow'rs abound,
The gentle shepherd cast his eyes around;
He sought a flower with Daphne to compare,

I give thee all — I can no more —
Tho' poor the offering be;
My heart and lute are all the store
That I can bring to thee.
A lute whose gentle song reveals
The soul of love full well;
And, better far, a heart that feels
Much more than lute could tell.

Tho' love and song may fail, alas!
To keep life's clouds away,
At least 't will make them lighter pass,
Or gild them if they stay.
And even if Care at moments flings
A discord o'er life's happy strain,
Let Love but gently touch the strings,
'T will all be sweet again!

The Bard

A H me! but I'm sorry,
And with worry I'm sore,
I am powerless to state
What my fate is each hour.
What but my heart's anguish
Makes me languish such wise?
With the love that I've loved her,
Ne'er above it I'll rise.

The Crone

Silence, rascal, deal fairly,
Untruths spare to exhale,
I will yet trust thee barely
That there's no gild-thy-tale.
If she is so pretty,