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“Pardon, bright nymph,” (the wond'ring Silvio cries,)

“And oh, receive the wreath, thy beauty's due”— His voice awards what still his hand denies,

For beauteous Amoret* now his eyes pursue. With gentle step and hesitating grace,

Unconscious of her power, the fair one carne; If, while he view'd the glories of that face,

Poor Sylvio doubted, -who shall dare to blame? A rosy blush his ardent gaze reprov'd,

The offer'd wreath she modestly declined ;If sprightly wit and dimpled smiles are lov'd,

My brow," said Flavia,t “shall that garland bind." With wanton gaiety the prize she seized

Sylvio in vain her snowy hand repellid; The fickle youth unwillingly was pleas'd,

Reluctantly the wreath he yet withheld. But Jessie's | all-seducing form appears,

Nor more the playful Flavia could delight: Lovely in smiles, more lovely still in tears,

Her every glance shone eloquently bright Those radiant eyes in safety none could view,

Did not those fringed lids their brightness shade Mistaken youths ! their beams, too late ye knew,

Are by that soft defence more fatal made. “ O God of Love !" with transport Silvio cries,

Assist me thou, this contest to decide; And since to one I cannot yield the prize,

Permit thy slave the garland to divide. "On Myra's breast the opening rose shall blow,

Reflecting from her cheek a livelier bloom ; For Stella shall the bright carnation glow

Beneath her eyes' bright radiance meet its doom. “ Smart pinks and daffodils shall Flavia grace,

The modest eglantine and violet blue On gentle Amoret's placid brow I'll place

Of elegance and love an emblem true.”

* Mrs. (afterwards Lady) Crewe.
+ Lady Craven, afterwards Margravine of Anspach.

The late Countess of Jersey.

In gardens oft a beauteous flow'r there grows,

By vulgar eyes unnotic'd and unseen; In sweet security it humbly blows,

And rears its purple head to deck the green. This flow'r, as nature's poet sweetly sings,

Was once milk-white, and heart's ease was it's name; Till wanton Cupid pois'd his roseate wings,

A vestal's sacred bosom to inflame.

With treacherous aim the god his arrow drew,

Which she with icy coldness did repel; Rebounding thence with feathery speed it flew,

Till on this lonely flow'r at last it fell.

Heart's ease no more the wandering shepherds found,

No more the nymphs its snowy form possess,
Its white now chang'd to purple by Love's wound,

Heart's ease no more, 'tis Love in Idleness.?

“ This flow'r, with sweet-briar join'd, shall thee adorn,

Sweet Jessie, fairest 'mid ten thousand fair ! But guard thy gentle bosom from the thorn,

Which, though conceal’d, the sweet-brier still must bear.

"And place not Love, though idle, in thy breast,

Though bright its hues, it boasts no other charm-So may thy future days be ever blest,

And friendship's calmer joys thy bosom warm !" But where does Laura pass her lonely hours ?

Does she still haunt the grot and willow-tree? Shall Silvio from his wreath of various flow'rs

Neglect to cull one simple sweet for thee? “Ab Laura, no," the constant Silvio cries,

“For thee a never-fading wreath I'll twine, Though bright the rose, its bloom too swiftly flies,

No emblem meet for love so true as mine.

For thee, my love, the myrtle, ever-green,

Shall every ycar its blossoms sweet disclose, Which when our spring of youth no more is seen,

Shall still appear more lovely than the rose.”

Forgive, dear youth,” the happy Iaura said,

"Forgive each doubt, each fondly anxious fear Which from my heart for ever now is fled

Thy love and truth, thus tried, are doubly dear. "With pain I mark'd the various passions rise,

When beauty so divine before thee mov'd;
With trembling doubt beheld thy wandering eyes,

For still I fear'd ;--alas ! because I lov’d.
“ Each anxious doubt shall Laura now forego,

No more regret those joys so lately known,
Conscious that though thy breast to all may glow

Thy faithful heart shall beat for her alone.
“Then, Silvio, seize again thy tuneful lyre,

Nor yet sweet Beauty's pow'r forbear to praise
Again let charms divine thy strains inspire,

And Laura's voice shall aid the poet's lays."

I NE'ER COULD ANY LUSTRE SEE.
“ I NE'ER could any lustre seet

In eyes that would not look on me:
When a glance aversion hints,
I always think the lady squints.
I ne'er saw nectar on a lip,
But where my own did hope to sip.
No pearly teeth rejoice my view,
Unless a 'yes' displays their hue-.
The prudish lip, that noes me back,
Convinces me the teeth are black.
To me the cheek displays no roses,
Like that th' assenting blush discloses;
But when with proud disdain 'tis spread,
To me 'tis but a scurvy red.
Would she have me praise her hair?
Let her place my garland there.
Is her hand so white and pure ?
I must press it to be sure ;
Nor can I be certain then,

Till it grateful press again. From these verses one of the songs in “The Duenna” was taken. † Another mode of beginning this song in the MS. :

6. Go tell the maid who seeks to move

My lyre to praise, my heart to love,
No rose upon her cheek can live,
Like those assenting blushes give."

In gardens oft a beauteous flow'r there grows,

By vulgar eyes unnotic'd and unseen ; In sweet security it humbly blows,

And rears its purple head to deck the green. This flow'r, as nature's poet sweetly sings,

Was once milk-white, and heart's ease was it's name; Till wanton Cupid poisid his roseate wings,

A vestal's sacred bosom to inflame.

With treacherous aim the god his arrow drew,

Which she with icy coldness did repel;
Rebounding thence with feathery speed it flew,

Till on this lonely flow'r at last it fell.
Heart's ease no more the wandering shepherds found,

No more the nymphs its snowy form possess,
Its white now chang’d to purple by Love's wound,

Heart's ease no more, 'tis . Love in Idleness.

“ This flow'r, with sweet-briar join'd, shall thee adorn,

Sweet Jessie, fairest 'mid ten thousand fair ! But guard thy gentle bosom from the thorn,

Which, though conceal'd, the sweet-brier still must bear.

“ And place not Love, though idle, in thy breast,

Though bright its hues, it boasts no other charm-So may thy future days be ever blest,

And friendship's calmer joys thy bosom warm !"

But where does Laura pass her lonely hours ?

Does she still haunt the grot and willow-tree? Shall Silvio from his wreath of various flow'rs

Neglect to cull one simple sweet for thee? “Ah Laura, no," the constant Silvio cries,

“For thee a never-fading wreath I'll twine, Though bright the rose, its bloom too swiftly flies,

No emblem meet for love so true as mine.

For thee, my love, the myrtle, ever-green,

Shall every year its blossoms sweet disclose, Which when our spring of youth no more is seen,

Shall still appear more lovely than the rose.”

Forgive, dear youth,” the happy Laura said,

"Forgive each doubt, each fondly anxious fear Which from my heart for ever now is fled

Thy love and truth, thus tried, are doubly dear. “With pain I mark'd the various passions rise,

When beauty so divine before thee mov’d;
With trembling doubt beheld thy wandering eyes,

For still I fear'd ;--alas ! because I lov'd.
« Each anxious doubt shall Laura now forego,

No more regret those joys so lately known,
Conscious that though thy breast to all may glow

Thy faithful heart shall beat for her alone.
“Then, Silvio, seize again thy tupeful lyre,

Nor yet sweet Beauty's pow'r forbear to praise Again let charms divine thy strains inspire,

And Laura's voice shall aid the poet's lays."

I NE'ER COULD ANY LUSTRE SEE.
“ I NE'ER could any lustre seet
In
eyes

that would not look on me:
When a glance aversion hints,
I always think the lady squints.
I ne'er saw nectar on a lip,
But where my own did hope to sip.
No pearly teeth rejoice my view,
Unless a 'yes' displays their hue-.
The prudish lip, that noes me back,
Convinces me the teeth are black.
To me the cheek displays no roses,
Like that th' assenting blush discloses;
But when with proud disdain 'tis spread,
To me 'tis but a scurvy red.
Would she have me praise her hair?
Let her place my garland there.
Is her hand so white and pure ?
I must press it to be sure ;
Nor can I be certain then,

Till it grateful press again. From these verses one of the songs in “The Duenna” was taken. + Another mode of beginning this song in the MS. :-,

" Go tell the maid who seeks to move

My lyre to praise, my heart to love,
No rose upon her cheek can live,
Like those assenting blushes give.”

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