And are you then a thing of art,
Seducing all, and loving none;
And have I strove to gain a heart
Which every coxcomb thinks his own?

Tell me at once if this be true,
And I will calm my jealous breast;
Will learn to join the dangling crew,
And share your simpers with the rest.

But if your heart be not so free, —
Oh! if another share that heart,
Tell not the hateful tale to me,

Think on that look whose melting ray
For one sweet moment mixt with mine,
And for that moment seemed to say,
" I dare not, or I would be thine! "

Think on thy every smile and glance,
On all thou hast to charm and move;
And then forgive my bosom's trance,
Nor tell me it is sin to love.

Oh, not to love thee were the sin;
For sure, if Fate's decrees be done,
Thou, thou art destined still to win,

Come with me my love and wander,
Where the moon is shining bright;
And the stars in beauteous splendor,
Softly shed their silv'ry light.
Where the nightingale is singing,
His soft blithesome melody,
And each breeze sweet perfume bringing,
I'll whisper words of love to thee.

WRITTEN IN HER ALBUM .

They say that Love had once a book
(The urchin likes to copy you),
Where, all who came, the pencil took,
And wrote, like us, a line or two.

'T was Innocence, the maid divine,
Who kept this volume bright and fair,
And saw that no unhallowed line
Or thought profane should enter there;

And daily did the pages fill
With fond device and loving lore,

Yes , if 't were any common love,
That led my pliant heart astray,
I grant, there's not a power above
Could wipe the faithless crime away.

But, 't was my doom to err with one
In every look so like to thee
That, underneath yon blessed sun
So fair there are but thou and she

Both born of beauty, at a birth,
She held with thine a kindred sway,
And wore the only shape on earth
That could have lured my soul to stray.

Then blame me not, if false I be,
'T was love that waked the fond excess;

M ADAN 's Tune .

Father, our hearts would now aspire,
On wings of faith and strong desire,
To thy celestial courts above,
Where all is glory, peace, and love.

We praise thee for the boundless grace
Extended to our fallen race,
When we, in our first parents, fell
From Eden to the gates of hell.

We praise the Son, who freely came
From heav'n to bear our sin and shame;
Who fought, who conquer'd, all our foes,
And bore the weight of all our woes.

The bless the Spirit's sacred name,

Eque brevi verbo ferre perenne maium.

S ECUNDUS , eleg. vil.

Still the question I must parry,
Still a wayward truant prove:
Where I love, I must not marry;
Where I marry, can not love.

Were she fairest of creation,
With the least presuming mind;
Learned without affectation;
Not deceitful, yet refined;

Wise enough, but never rigid;
Gay, but not too lightly free;

IN THE MEASURE OF THE ORIGINAL .

With cheeks where eternal paradise bloom'd,
Sweet Eaili the soul of Kais had consum'd.
Transported her heavenly graces he view'd:
Of slumber no more he thought, nor of food,
Love rais'd in their glowing bosoms his throne,
Adopting the chosen pair as his own.
Together on flowery seats they repos'd;
Their lips not one idle moment were clos'd.
To mortals they gave no hint of their smart:
Love only the secret drew from each heart.

By classic Cam a lovely maiden grew:
The sun scarce shone upon her tender birth
Ere she was left, the loneliest thing on earth,
An orphan bent by every wind that blew.
But He who ne'er forsakes the fatherless,
Who led confiding Ruth by hand unseen
The freely scatter'd barley-ears to glean,
Was ever with her in her loneliness.
Thus in her solitude her mind became
Of gentleness and love the sanctuary.
Thither one day, 'twas in that season merry
In which the Cuckoo sings her own sweet name,
Walking perchance, the peerless maid I spied,

The Crimson Clouds, with Gold array'd,
O'er the rich Dawn their Pomp display'd;
The Sun in blushing Beams arose,
The Mountains glitter as he goes;
The tow'ring Lark her Anthems sings,
And Heav'n's blew Arch melodious rings;
The tuneful Thrush kept Time below,
The frisking Lambs leap to and fro;
Each feather'd Warbler stretch'd his Throat,
And Eccho answer'd ev'ry Note.

Myrtilla now, relenting Maid,
Was walking by a verdant Shade,
There loosely dress'd in lovely Green,