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The unrelenting tyrant, who, unmoved,
Lays for a sweet and smiling land his snares,
Whose callous unimpassioned heart hath proved
Beyond the impulse of a mother's prayers,
Though not for beauty's tearful eye he cares,
A tyrant among tyrants he must be—
A Herod with a hydra soul, who dares

To spill the blood of innocent like thee,

All smiling in his face, and from a parent's knee!

Adieu! fair infant; be it thine to prove

The joy, of which an earnest thou wert sent;
And, in thy riper eyes, with looks of love,
Repay thy mother for the hours she spent
In fondness o'er thy cradle; thou wert meant
To be her solace in declining years;

Raise up the mind with age and sorrow bent

Assuage with filial care a parent's fears,

t;

Awake her heart to joy, and wipe away her tears!

CHARACTERISTICS OF A CHILD THREE

YEARS OLD.

WORDSWORTH.

LOVING she is, and tractable, though wild;
And Innocence hath privilege in her
To dignify arch looks and laughing eyes;
And feats of cunning, and the pretty round
Of trespasses, affected to provoke

Mock chastisement and partnership in play.

And as a faggot sparkles on the hearth

Not less if unattended and alone

Than when both young and old sit gathered round And take delight in its activity;

Even so this happy creature of herself

Is all-sufficient; solitude to her

Is blithe society, who fills the air

With gladness and involuntary songs.

Light are her sallies as the tripping fawn's

Forth startled from the fern where she lay couched ;

Unthought of, unsuspected, as the stir

Of the soft breeze ruffling the meadow-flowers;
Or from before it chasing wantonly
The many-coloured images imprest
Upon the bosom of a placid lake.

TO A CHILD PLAYING.

R. C. FRENCH.

DEAR boy, thy momentary laughter rings
Sincerely out, and that spontaneous glee,
Seeming to need no hint from outward things,

Breaks forth in sudden shoutings, loud and free.

From what hid fountains doth thy joyance flow,
That borrows nothing from the world around?
Its springs must deeper lie than we can know,
A well whose springs lie safely underground.

So be it ever-and thou, happy boy,

When time, that takes these wild delights away, Gives thee a measure of sedater joy,

Which, unlike this, shall ever with thee stay ;

Then may that joy, like this, to outward things
Owe nothing but lie safe beneath the sod,
A hidden fountain fed from unseen springs,
From the glad-making river of our God.

Black wood, 1835.

SONNET.

SIR AUBREY DE VERE, BART.

"On the first day of spring we buried her;
She hath risen with the flowers;

They to the summer's sun,

She to the throne of God!"

AGAIN God's messenger hath visited
My fold, and from my little flock withdrawn
A spotless lamb-my gentle one is dead!-
Her beauty-oh how precious in the dawn.
Of intellectual expression!--gone

To an untimely grave. And yet, though fled
From earth, though never more through wood or lawn
Her step shall bound before us, God hath shed
Balm, even from the vials of his wrath,

And we walk cheered, though tearful, down our path.
O Comforter! still heavenward points thy hand,
Where my rapt treasures, clasped in mute embraces,-
Immortal gleams brightening their upturned faces,-
With the cherubic choir take their appointed stand!

Currah, Easter-day, 1834.

LINES

On the Christening of my Brother's Infant Son, Feb. 21, 1839.

THE HON. MRS. NORTON.

THERE is a sound of laughter, light and gay,
And hurried welcomes, as of joyful greeting,
The stir and murmur of a holiday,

The grouping of glad friends each other meeting: And in the midst art THOU-thou tiny flower, Whose coming hath so cheered this wintry hour!

Helpless thou liest, young blossom of our love!

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The sunshine of fond smiles around thee beaming, Blessings called down on thee from Heaven above, And every heart about thy future dreaming :Meek peace and utter innocence are now The sole expression of thy baby brow.

Helpless thou liest, thy little waxen face Eagerly scanned by our inquiring glances, Hoping some lovely likeness there to trace, Which fancy finds, and so thy worth enhances, ing with thought mature and power of mind ant features-yet so faintly lined.

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