An' she'll live as she is, an' she'll die as she is,
If somebody mayna be hers.

Gibson.

L.-He's lo'ed thee o'er truly to seek a new dearie,

He's lo'ed thee o'er fondly through life e'er to weary,
He's lo'ed thee o'er lang at last to deceive thee-
Look cauldly or kindly, but bid him not leave thee.

Macgregor.

4.

G.-Her heart is a music-box, dearest,

With exquisite tunes at command,
Of melody sweetest and clearest,

If tried by a delicate hand;
But its workmanship rare is so fine

At a single rude touch it would break,
Then oh! be the magic key thine,

Its fairy-like whispers to wake!
And there's one little tune it can play

That you fancy all others above,
She learned it of Cupid one day-
It begins with, and ends with “ I love !"

“I love !"
Your heart echoes to it " I love !"

Mrs. Osgood.

L.-Forever thine, whate'er his heart betide,

Forever thine, where'er his lot be cast,
Fate, that may rob thee of all wealth beside,

Shall leave thee love till life itself be past.

Forever thine !-mid fashion's heartless throng

In courtly bowers—at folly's gilded shrine,
Smiles on his cheek-light words upon
His deep heart still is thine-forever thine !

A. A. Watts.

his tongue

5.

All will be well, Much happiness will be thy portion yet. Love will be with thee, breathing his native air, And peace around thee through the power of Love.

Taylor.

6.

G.--Your fair will be a preacher,

Inspired when she is vexed!
he'll never lack'a sermon,
And
you

will be the text!
We'll preach of all your faults and flaws,

And pay them all in kind,
But most she'll hate, aye, more than all,

The faults she cannot find. Ebenezer Elliot

L. When he at table takes his place,

Whatever be the meat,
He first will chide, and then say grace-

If so disposed, will eat.
Too fat, too lean, too hot, too cold,

He ever will complain ;
Too raw, too roast, too young, too cold,

Faults be will find-or feign ;

K.

Let it be flesh, or fowl or fish,

It never shall be said
But he'll find fault with every dish,

With wife or servant maid.
And when he goes to bed at night,

He heartily will weep
That he must part with his delight-

He cannot scold—and sleep!
However this will mitigate,

And much abate his sorrow;
That though to-night it be too late,
He'll early scold to-morrow!

Andrew Simpson. 1690

7.

G.–The poets tell of Eastern pearls,

Of Brazil's diamond mine,
But fair New England's factory girls

In greater splendor shine.
Not drones, but busy bees of life,

As round the spindles whirl,
He wins a treasure for his wife
Who weds a factory girl !

D. Cooper Vail. L.-Who's born for sloth ? To some we find

The ploughshare's annual toil assigned;
Some, studious of the wind and tide,
From pole to pole our commerce guide;
Some at the sounding anvil glow;
He'll the swift sliding shuttle throw.

Gay.

8.

G.-Alas! that Dame Fortune, who

goes
her

way
Over the wide world day by day,
Dispensing as sheer caprice may say

The gifts which are hers to scatter,
Sowing them broadcast, devoid of rule,
And in a manner provokingly cool,
Giving always to some knave or fool

By far the best of the matter-
Giving fame to one, and wealth to two,
And happiness to a blessed few,
Will give nothing to her, and ditto to you,
Then let no false hopes flatter.

Dodge's Lit. Museum.

L:-Oh, sweetly is bedecked your bower,

And gorgeously your halls ;
Here treads the foot on springing buds,

And there on velvet falls ;
The massy curtains graceful flow,

The vase, the painting warm,
Those household echoes, mirrors bright,

Revealing the fair form;
Exotics that perfume the air

With odors sweet and strange,
And shells that far in foreign climes

Mid ocean wonders range,
With countless gifts of taste and art

In classic beauty rife,

Are laid upon your household shrine,
And grace your daily life.

Caroline Gilnian.

1

9.

G.-Don't search for " an angel ” a minute ;

For granting you win in the sequel,
The deuce, after all, would be in it,

With a union so very unequal!
And angels, it must be confessed,

In this world are rather uncommon,
Allow me, dear sir, to suggest

You'd be better content with a woman;
A trim little maiden of twenty,

A beautiful azure-eyed elf,
With virtues and graces in plenty,
And no failing but loving yourself.

Saxe.

L.--His eyes they are dark, sharp, piercing and keen,

His appearance is neither too fat, nor too lean;
His eyelashes long, and his teeth they are white,
His lips invite kisses from morning till night;
His manners are gentle, bewitching and bland,
And love's charming language he'll well understand,
And when the girls tease him, and troublesome be,
He'll chat with them all, but will love only thee.

10.

G.–When September's golden day,

Serenely still, intensely bright,