For did those eyes as planets roll,

Thy sister-lights would scarce appear: E'en suns, which systems now control, Would twinkle dimly through their sphere.

STANZAS TO A LADY,

WITH THE POEMS OF CAMOENS.

THIS Votive pledge of fond esteem,
Perhaps, dear girl! for me thou'lt prize;
It sings of Love's enchanting dream,
A theme we never can despise.

Who blames it but the envious fool,
The old and disappointed maid?
Or pupil of the prudish school,

In single sorrow doomed to fade?

Then read, dear girl! with feeling read,

For thou wilt ne'er be one of those;
To thee in vain I shall not plead
In pity for the poet's woes.

He was in sooth a genuine bard;
His was no faint, fictitious flame:
Like his, may love be thy reward,
But not thy hapless fate the same.

LINES ADDRESSED TO A YOUNG LADY

As the author was discharging his pistols in a garden, two ladies passing near the spot were alarmed by the sound of a bullet hissing near them, to one of whom the following stanzas were addressed the next morning.

DOUBTLESS, Sweet girl, the hissing lead,
Wafting destruction o'er thy charms,
And hurtling o'er thy lovely head,

Has filled that breast with fond alarms.

Surely some envious demon's force,
Vexed to behold such beauty here,
Impelled the bullet's viewless course,
Diverted from its first career.

Yes, in that nearly fatal hour

The ball obeyed some hell-born guide;
But Heaven, with interposing power,
In pity turned the death aside.

Yet, as perchance one trembling tear
Upon that thrilling bosom fell;
Which I, th' unconscious cause of fear
Extracted from its glistening cell:

Say, what dire penance can atone

For such an outrage done to thee?
Arraigned before thy beauty's throne,
What punishment wilt thou decree?

Might I perform the judge's part,

The sentence I should scarce deplore;
It only would restore a heart

Which but belonged to thee before.

The least atonement I can make,
Is to become no longer free;
Henceforth I breathe but for thy sake,
Thou shalt be all in all to me.

But thou, perhaps, mayst now reject
Such expiation of my guilt:

Come then, some other mode elect;
Let it be death, or what thou wilt.

Choose then, relentless! and I swear
Nought shall thy dread decree prevent;
Yet hold - one little word forbear!

Let it be aught but banishment.

ΤΟ

Он! yes, I will own we were dear to each other;
The friendships of childhood, though fleeting, are true;
The love which you felt was the love of a brother,
Nor less the affection I cherished for you.

But friendship can vary her gentle dominion,

The attachment of years in a moment expires; Like love, too, she moves on a swift-waving pinion, But glows not, like love, with unquenchable fires.

Full oft have we wandered through Ida together,

And blest were the scenes of our youth I allow; In the spring of our life, how serene is the weather, But winter's rude tempests are gathering now.

No more with affection shall memory blending

The wonted delights of our childhood retrace: When pride steels the bosom, the heart is unbending, And what would be justice appears a disgrace.

However, dear S—, for I still must esteem you
The few whom I love I can never upbraid -
The chance which has lost may in future redeem you,
Repentance will cancel the vow you have made.

I will not complain, and though chilled is affection,
With me no corroding resentment shall live:
My bosom is calmed by the simple reflection,
That both may be wrong, and that both should forgive.

You knew that my soul, that my heart, my existence,
If danger demanded, were wholly your own;
You knew me unaltered by years or by distance,
Devoted to love and friendship alone.

You knew

but away with the vain retrospection!
The bond of affection no longer endures;
Too late you may droop o'er the fond recollection,
And sigh for the friend who was formerly yours.

For the present, we part-I will hope not for ever,
For time and regret will restore you at last;
To forget our dissension we both should endeavor
I ask no atonement but days like the past.

TO LESBIA.

LESBIA! since far from you I've ranged,
Our souls with fond affection glow not;
You say 'tis I, not you, have changed,
I'd tell you why, but yet I know not.

Your polished brow no cares have crost;
And, Lesbia! we are not much older,
Since trembling first my heart I lost,

Or told my love, with hope grown bolder.

Sixteen was then our utmost age,

Two years have lingering past away, love! And now new thoughts our minds engage, At least I feel disposed to stray, love!

"Tis I that am alone to blame,

I, that am guilty of love's treason; Since your sweet breast is still the same, Caprice must be my only reason.

I do not, love! suspect your truth,

With jealous doubt my bosom heaves not; Warm was the passion of my youth, One trace of dark deceit it leaves not.

No, no, my flame was not pretended,
For, oh! I loved you most sincerely;
And though our dream at last has ended-

My bosom still esteems you dearly.