Dreading the rival influence of my eye,
My soft low whisper and enticing sighs,
My brilliant talk and fascinating smile:
And so to keep my love away from me,
He feigned the difficulty of the roads,
And plunged me to the madness of despair!
Oh! may kind Fate swift retribution grant!
May it be mine, before I sink in death,
To seize that coachman in his stable-yard,
Bind on him firmly, with confining girths,
The saddle hanging in his harness-room,
Insert between his teeth his training-bit,
Mount on his back, and with his driving-whip
Force him barefooted through the frozen snow,
O'er which he once forbade my love to go!
HY like a hinge is woman fair?
The answer pray do not deplore:
Let man dispute it if he dare,
I say she's something to A-DORE!
EMMED in by mountains, girdled with dark pines,
The lake lay sleeping; not a ruffle stirred
Its deep calm waters, and the lengthening lines
Of shadow kissed its breast: no sound was heard.
Above, the clouds were coursing through the sky,
Save where there gleamed a deep of purest blue;
And one star, like a signal lamp on high,
Into a form of wondrous beauty grew :
It sparkled clear, like that strange Star of old
That led the wise men o'er their weary way,
Till they had brought their frankincense and gold,
And worshipped where the world's Redeemer lay.
I stood beside the margin: 'twas a sea
Of glass faint ripples dreamed along the shore; I wondered if more beautiful could be
The Land where seas and stars shall be no more.
And then I thought me of that lake of old
Where once the Master 'mid the darkness trod,
And at His word the angry billows rolled
Their foam into a calm, and owned their God.
Then o'er me came faint glimpses of a stream
Whose waves make glad the City up above;
Lit up for ever by the sunny gleam,
Reflecting only heavenly light and love.
O, when the storms of life have ceased to beat,
Safe to the haven where we all would be,
Lord Jesu! bring our worn and wandering feet
Beside the margin of the Crystal Sea.
"At Venus Ascanio placidam per membra quietem
Inrigat, et fatum gremio dea tollit in altos
Idaliæ lucos, ubi mollis amaricus illum
Floribus et dulci adspirans complectur umbra."
ILLOWED upon the bosom of a goddess,
And lightly laid to sleep in rosy rest,
Gentle Ascanius held unconscious flight:
Through dewy clouds that, leaning from above,
Kissed and embraced his sculptured brow and breast,
And stirred his golden flood of mantling hair,
The soft airs made a music as they glided,
Sweetened with balm and scenting frankincense-
The breath of gods. For Venus moved upon
His every smile, bedewing them with mists
Of easy slumber; and, fondling him aloft
In arms divine, transported to her bower-
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