That she was softly bending down to kiss

Her babe, that something more than babe did

seem,

A floating presence of its darling father,
And yet its own dear baby self far rather!

Across my chest there lay a weight so warm,
As if some bird had taken shelter there;
And lo! I seemed to see a woman's form-
Thine, Sara, thine? Oh, joy, if thine it were!
SAMUEL TAYLOR COLERIDGE.

THE FIRST KISS.

How delicious is the winning
Of a kiss at Love's beginning
When two mutual hearts are sighing
For the knot there's no untying!

Yet remember, 'midst your wooing,
Love has bliss, but Love has ruing;
Other smiles may make you fickle,
Tears for other charms may trickle.

Love he comes, and Love he tarries,
Just as fate or fancy carries;
Longest stays when sorest chidden;
Laughs and flies, when pressed and bidden.

COME, REST IN THIS BOSOM. 145

Bind the sea to slumber stilly,
Bind its odor to the lily,
Bind the aspen ne'er to quiver,
Then bind Love to last forever!

Love's a fire that needs renewal
Of fresh beauty for its fuel;

Love's wing moults when caged and cap
tured,

Only free he soars enraptured.

Can you keep the bee from ranging,
Or the ring-dove's neck from changing?
No! nor fettered Love from dying
In the knot there's no untying.

THOMAS CAMPBELL.

COME, REST IN THIS BOSOM.

Come, rest in this bosom, my own stricken deer, Though the herd have fled from thee, thy home is still here;

Here still is the smile, that no cloud can o'ercast, And a heart and a hand all thy own to the last.

Oh! what was love made for, if 'tis not the same Through joy and through torment, through glory and shame?

I know not, I ask not, if guilt's in that heart,
I but know that I love thee, whatever thou art.

Thou hast called me thy Angel in moments of bliss,

And thy Angel I'll be through the honors of this,

Through the furnace, unshrinking, thy steps to pursue,

And shield thee, and save thee,—or perish there too! THOMAS MOORE.

Why did she love him? Curious fool, be still! Is human love the growth of human will?

LORD BYRON.

IF YOU BE A NUN.

If you be a Nun, Dear,
A Friar I will be:

In any cell you run, Dear,

Pray look behind for me.
The roses all turn pale too;
The doves all take the veil too;
The blind will see the show;
What! you become a Nun, my Dear?
I'll not believe it, No!

If you become a Nun, Dear,
The bishop Love will be;

The Cupids, every one, Dear,
Will chant, "We trust to thee!"

SONG.

The incense will go sighing;
The candles fall a-dying;

147

The water turn to wine; What! you go take the vows, my Dear? You may, but they'll be mine.

LEIGH HUNT.

SONG.

Withdraw not yet those lips and fingers
Whose touch to mine is rapture's spell;
Life's joy for us a moment lingers,

And death seems in the word-Farewell.
THOMAS CAMPBELL.

The time I've lost in wooing,
In watching and pursuing
The light that lies

In woman's eyes,

Has been my heart's undoing.
Though Wisdom oft has sought me,
I scorned the love she brought me,
My only books

Were woman's looks,

And folly's all they've taught me.
THOMAS MOORE.

PASSAGES FROM "DON JUAN.”

"Man's love is of man's life a thing apart,

"Tis woman's whole existence; man may range The court, camp, church, the vessel, and the

mart,

Sword, gown, gain, glory, offer in exchange, Pride, fame, ambition, to fill up his heart,

And few there are whom these cannot estrange; Men have all these resources, we but one, To love again, and be again undone.

"You will proceed in pleasure, and in pride, Beloved and loving many; all is o'er

For me on earth, except some years to hide

My shame and sorrow deep in my heart's core ! These I could bear, but cannot cast aside

The passion which still rages as before,And so farewell-forgive me, love me-No. That word is idle now-but let it go."

They looked up to the sky, whose floating glow Spread like a rosy ocean, vast and bright; They gazed upon the glittering sea below,

Whence the broad moon rose circling into sight;

They heard the waves' splash, and the wind so low,

And saw each other's dark eyes darting light