The Denouement.

They stood within a recess shady,

Apart from all,

and thus he said:

"Dear cousin, wouldst thou know the lady,
Whom I do love, whom I would wed?"

A moment glowed her youthful cheek,
A moment flashed her timid eyes,
In mute reply, she dared not speak;
Alas! how soon her sweet hope dies!

"I'll lead thee to her, - yonder, dearest!"
He took her hand, - 't was deadly cold;
They crossed the hall,-"What is 't thou fearest ?

Look up,

Julie!

my love behold!"

With sudden pride she dashed aside

The curls that hid her drooping brow, "I welcome her," she proudly cried,

And raised her eyes, what sees she now?

No highborn dame to mock her shame,
No rival robed in rich array!

Back to her cheek the color came,
And warmer rose her pulse's play.

Before her stood, in simple guise,

Reflected by a mirror bright,

Her own fair form!- her own blue eyes
Returned her gaze of wild delight!

F. S. OSGOOD.

Lines to

They tell us oft of the beautiful
That dwells in woman's face;
Of the soul-lit eye, and fairy form,
The poetry of grace.

And gather from every language,
The terms that best impress
Upon the young and ardent fancy,

Her gentle loveliness.

But vain, I fear, are love's fondest words, Sweet girl, to tell of thee;

As pure, as heavenly beautiful,

As poet's dream could be.

The liquid eye, and the snowy brow,
The smile, and dimple's play;
I know of nothing in earth or sky,
As soft, as sweet as they.

And the crimson hue that oft is seen
Upon that cheek to start,

With a deeper eloquence than words,
It speaks the woman's heart.

Yes! beautiful is that youthful face,

That form so light and free;

And sweet, oh! sweet, that silvery smile,

That fondly rests on me.

FRANK. MONTRAVILLE.

The Southerner, to a Yankee.

What! write a burning billet-doux

On common colored paper, And melt the wax to seal it, too, Within a tallow taper!

Not thus we woo our Georgian girls,
They'd scorn so poor a letter ;.
They 'd twist with it their silken curls,
And bid us write a better.

We seek a sweeter, purer leaf,
To bear our passion to them ;
Our vows are beautiful as brief;
I'll tell you how we woo them.

Deep in our southern forest-glooms,
Our tempests proudly braving,
The pure magnolia richly blooms,
Its peerless blossoms waving.

We pluck the leaf of perfumed snow,
We trace love-verses on it,

And as the quick thoughts breathe and glow,
The flower makes sweet the sonnet.

We tell the maid it mocks, in hue,

Her fair and virgin forehead;

We say her lips' delicious dew

The blossom's balm has borrowed.

Our sweet appeals in secret bower,

We bid her con apart,

And trace it on as fair a flower,

Her own unsullied heart.

"T is writ with plumes from Cupid's wing,
With passion's kiss we seal it,
Then free to zephyr's care we fling
Our light and blooming billet!

Well guarded from blockade and breach,
Must be that heart unsleeping,
Such fragrant vows would fail to reach,
Or fail, when reached, in keeping!

F. S. OSGOOD.

Early Woo'd and Won.

Oh! sigh not for the fair young bride,
Gone to her opening bloom,

Far from her kindred, loved and tried,
To glad another home;
Already are the gay brief days

Of girlish triumph done,

And tranquil happiness repays
The early woo'd and won.

Fear shall invade her peace no more,

Nor sorrow wound the breast,

Her passing rivalries are o'er,

Her passing doubts at rest;

The glittering haunts of worldly state
Love whispers her to shun,
Since scenes of purer bliss await
The early woo'd and won.

Here is a young and guileless heart,
Confiding, fond, and warm,
Unsullied by the world's vain mart,
Unscathed by passion's storm;

In "hope deferred" she hath not pined,
Till Hope's sweet course was run;
No chains of sad remembrance bind
The early woo'd and won.

Her smiles and songs have ceased to grace The halls of festal mirth,

But woman's safest dwelling-place

Is by a true one's hearth;

Her hours of duty, joy, and love,

In brightness have begun; Peace be her portion from above,

The early woo'd and won.

MRS. ABDY.