Why thus, my love, so kind bespeak
Sweet eye, sweet lip, sweet blushing cheek,

Yet not a heart to save my pain?
Oh, Venus, take thy gifts again!
Make not so fair to cause our moan,
Or make a heart that's like our own.
JOHN HARRINGTON.

'TIS THE LAST ROSE OF SUMMER.

'TIS

the last rose of summer,

Left blooming alone;

All her lovely companions

Are faded and gone;
No flower of her kindred,
No rosebud, is nigh,
To reflect back her blushes
Or give sigh for sigh.

I'll not leave thee, thou lone one,

To pine on the stem:

Since the lovely are sleeping,
Go sleep thou with them.

Thus kindly I scatter

Thy leaves o'er the bed Where thy mates of the garden

Lie scentless and dead.

The camp was all in tumult,

And there was such a thunder

Of cymbals and of drums.

As if the earth would cleave in sunder.

There you might see the Moors
Arming themselves in haste,
And the two main battles

How they were forming fast,
Horsemen and footmen mixt,
A countless troop and vast.
The Moors are moving forward,
The battle soon must join.
"My men, stand here in order,
Ranged upon a line;

Let not a man move from his rank
Before I give the sign."

Pero Bermuez heard the word,

But he could not refrain:
He held the banner in his hand,
He gave his horse the rein:
"You see yon foremost squadron there,
The thickest of the foes?
Noble Cid, God be your aid,

For there your banner goes!
Let him that serves and honors it
Show the duty that he owes."
Earnestly the Cid called out,
"For Heaven's sake be still!"
Bermuez cried, "I cannot hold,"

So eager was his will.

He spurred his horse, and drove him on Amid the Moorish rout;

They strove to win the banner,

And compassed him about.
Had not his armor been so true,

He had lost either life or limb;
The Cid called out again,
"For Heaven's sake succor him!"
Their shields before their breasts,
Forth at once they gc,

Their lances in the rest

Levelled fair and low, Their banners and their crests Waving in a row,

Their heads all stooping down

Toward the saddle-bow. The Cid was in the midst,

His shout was heard afar:

"I am Rui Diaz,

The champion of Bivar-
Strike amongst them, gentlemen,
For sweet mercies' sake!"
There where Bermuez fought

Amidst the foe they brake';
Three hundred bannered knights,
It was a gallant show;
Three hundred Moors they killed,
A man at every blow.
When they wheeled and turned,

As many more lay slain :

You might see them raise their lances,
And level them again.

There you might see the breastplates,
How they were cleft in twain,
And many a Moorish shield

Lie scattered on the plain,
The pennons that were white
Marked with a crimson stain,
The horses running wild

Whose riders had been slain.

JOHN HOOKHAM FRERE.

THE UNMERCIFUL SERVANT.

A

WARRIOR so bold and a virgin so bright

Conversed as they sat on the green; They gazed on each other with tender delight: Alonzo the Brave was the name of the knight

The maiden's, the Fair Imogine.

“And oh," said the youth, "since to-morrow I go

To fight in a far-distant land,

Your tears for my absence soon ceasing to

flow, Some other will court you,

On a wealthier suitor

and you will bestow hand."

your

"Oh, hush these suspicions," Fair Imogine

said,

"Offensive to love and to me;

For if you be living, or if you be dead,

I swear by the Virgin that none in your stead Shall husband of Imogine be.

"If e'er I, by lust or by wealth led aside, Forget my Alonzo the Brave,

His presence all bosoms appeared to dismay; The guests sat in silence and fear;

behold!

A baron all covered with jewels and gold. Arrived at Fair Imogine's door.

His treasures, his presents, his spacious domain,

Soon made her untrue to her vows;

bled: "I pray,

Sir knight, that your helmet aside you would lay

And deign to partake of our cheer."

The lady is silent; the stranger complies: His vizor he slowly unclosed;

priest,

The revelry now was begun;

The tables they groaned with the weight of the feast,

Nor yet had the laughter and merriment. ceased

When the bell at the castle tolled one.

Then first with amazement Fair Imogine found

A stranger was placed by her side; His air was terrific, he uttered no sound; He spake not, he moved not, he looked not around,

But earnestly gazed on the bride.

His vizor was closed and gigantic his height, His armor was sable to view;

All turned with disgust from the scene: The worms they crept in, and the worms they crept out,

And sported his eyes and his temples about, While the spectre addressed Imogine.

'Behold me, thou false one, behold me!" he cried;

"Remember Alonzo the Brave! God grants that to punish thy falsehood and pride

My ghost at thy marriage should sit by thy side

Should tax thee with perjury, claim thee as bride,

And bear thee away to the grave."

sight;

The dogs, as they eyed him, drew back in

affright;

The lights in the chamber burned blue.

Then sunk with his prey through the wideyawning ground;

Nor ever again was Fair Imogine found,

Or the spectre that bore her away.

Not long lived the baron, and none, since

that time,

To inhabit the castle presume; For chronicles tell that by order sublime There Imogine suffers the pain of her crime And mourns her deplorable doom.

"And is mine one?" said Abou.-" Nay, not so,"

Replied the angel. Abou spoke more low, But cheerly still, and said, "I pray thee, then,

Write me as one that loves his fellow-men."

her sprite,

night