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THE SEA-CAVE.

ARDLY we breathe, although the air

be free:

How massively doth awful Nature pile
The living rock, like some cathedral aisle
Sacred to silence and the solemn sea!
How that clear pool lies sleeping tranquilly!
And under its glassed surface seems to
smile,

With many hues, a mimic grove the while,
Of foliage submarine, shrub, flower and tree.
Beautiful scene, and fitted to allure
The printless footsteps of some sea-born
maid,

Who here, with her
green tresses disarrayed,
'Mid the clear bath, unfearing and secure,
May sport at noontide in the caverned shade,
Cold as the shadow, as the waters pure.

THOMAS DOUBLEDAY.

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(None fondly loves but knows it), jealousy,
That wedlock's yellow sickness,
That whispers separation every minute,
And thus the curse takes his effect or prog-

ress.

The most of men, in their first sudden furies,
Rail at the narrow bounds of marriage,
And call 't a prison; then it is most just
That the disease of the prison, jealousy,
Should thus affect 'em, but-oh, here I'm
fixed!-

IN VAIN YOU TELL.

N vain
you tell your parting lover
You wish fair winds may waft him

over:

Alas! what winds can happy prove
That bear me far from what I love?
Alas! what dangers on the main
Can equal those that I sustain
From slighted vows and cold disdain?
Be gentle, and in pity choose
To wish the wildest tempest loose,
That, thrown again upon the coast
Where first my shipwrecked heart was
lost,

To make sale of a wife! Moustrous and I may once more repeat my pain,

foul!

An act abhorred in nature, cold in soul!

Once more in dying notes complain
Of slighted vows and cold disdain.

THOMAS MIDDLETON.

MATTHEW PRIOR.

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