And may it be that yonder chime,

Which spoke to-day of hearts delighted,
May sadly tell, in after time,

That death those hearts has disunited?

It may be but away, away!

Forebodings dark, and dreams of sorrow;
Let mirth and music reign to-day,

And reason's voice be heard to-morrow.

I would not, with most sage advice,
Dispel this momentary fever;
For, oh! the world were paradise,
Could such delirium last for ever.

Etonian.

SONNET,

TO AILSA ROCK.

BY JOHN KEATS.

HEARKEN, thou craggy ocean pyramid!
Give answer from thy voice, the sea fowls' screams,
When were thy thunders mantled in huge streams?
When from the sun was thy broad forehead hid ?
How long is't since the mighty Power bid
Thee heave to airy sleep from fathom dreams?—
Sleep on the lap of thunder or sun-beams,—
Or when grey clouds are thy cold coverlid!

Thou answerest not, for thou art dead asleep;

Thy life is but two dread eternities;

The last in air, the former in the deep,

First with the whales, last with the eagle skies ;

Drowned wast thou till an earthquake made thee steep,— Another cannot bow thy giant size.

TO A GIRL THIRTEEN YEARS OF AGE.

THY smiles, thy talk, thy aimless plays,

So beautiful approve thee,

So winning, light, are all thy ways,

I cannot choose but love thee:

Thy balmy breath upon my brow
Is like the summer air,

As o'er my cheek thou leanest now
To plant a soft kiss there.

Thy steps are dancing toward the bound
Between the child and woman;
And thoughts and feelings more profound,
And other years are coming;
And thou shalt be more deeply fair,

More precious to the heart;

But never can'st thou be again,

That lovely thing thou art!

And youth shall pass, with all the brood

Of fancy-fed affection;

And care shall come with womanhood,

And 'waken cold reflection;

Thou'll learn to toil, and watch, and weep,

O'er pleasures unreturning,

Like one who wakes from pleasant sleep

Unto the cares of morning.

Nay, say not so! nor cloud the sun

Of joyous expectation, Ordained to bless the little one,

The freshling of creation!

Nor doubt that HE, who now doth feed

Her early lamp with gladness,

Will be her present help in need,

Her comforter in sadness.

Smile on, then, little winsome thing,

All rich in nature's measure; Thou hast within thy heart a spring

Of self-renewing pleasure;

Smile on, fair child, and take thy fill
Of mirth, till time shall end it;
'Tis Nature's wise and gentle will,
And who shall reprehend it?
Knight's Quarterly Magazine.

LOVE.

BY R. SOUTHEY, ESQ.

THEY sin who tell us love can die ;-
With life all other passions fly,
All others are but vanity.

In heaven ambition cannot dwell,

Nor avarice in the vaults of hell ;

Earthly these passions as of earth,

They perish when they have their birth;

But love is indestructible,

Its holy flame for ever burneth,

From heaven it came, to heaven returneth;

Too oft on earth a troubled guest,

At times deceived, at times opprest;

It here is tried and purified,

And hath in heaven its perfect rest;

It soweth here with toil and care,

But the harvest time of Love is there.
Oh when a mother meets on high
The babe she lost in infancy,

Hath she not then, for pains and fears,

The day of woe, the anxious night,
For all her sorrow, all her tears,

An over-payment of delight!

W.

TO A SISTER.

BY W. READ, ESQ.

THE soft gale of summer, though past,
Will breathe of the rose it loved last;
Thus divided by land and by sea,
My soul whispers fondly of thee.

And to me thou art now as a star,
In the blue depths of heaven afar;
On which, from the gloom of my lot,
I can gaze till my griefs are forgot.

And my spirit full oft when it turns

From the cold hearted crowd which it spurns,
Confesses with pain, yet with pride,

It hath found but One like thee beside.

I may err-and have erred,-for a mind
That finds not repose-nor can find-
All helmless and havenless tost,
Like a wreck on the ocean-is lost.

But oh! when most wild or most weak,
Let me think of the tear on thy cheek,-
And, as one from a serpent would start,
My soul and her madness shall part.

I once sighed for the wreath that is wove
Round the brow of the blest in their love;
And I burned for the raptures that steal
Through those hearts which are felt for, and feel;

I once hoped the proud laurel should bloom,
Ever green on my temple, or tomb,-
And I thought round this rude harp of mine,
An amaranth leaf might entwine.

Alas! they were dreams that pass on,
Like a cloud o'er the moon, and are gone !
For the stone that may tell of my name,
Shall speak not of fortune or fame.

Yet, dear one, though hopeless I be,
Divided and distant from Thee,

My lot shall not make me repine,
Whilst thy fondness and friendship are mine.

Farewell! with thy purity blest,

Be still my own star in the west!
For thy beam has a passionate spell,

Which binds me to earth-Fare-thee-well!
Literary Gazette.

TO LOUISA.

IF memory ever should whisper the name
Of one who hath loved thee not wisely, but well,
And dwelt on thy charms with that passionate flame,
Which none but the soul of a poet can tell-

Remember his heart was not tempered like those
Who have never awoke to the exquisite touch,
Which passion imparts to the bosom that glows,
Till its error in love is in loving too much.

Remember, if fondness seduced him too far,
The language that broke from thine eloquent eye;—
For who could be blind to so brilliant a star,

If it beamed but on him, though a thousand were by?

And remember, whilst others are bound by its spell, With what ills and what anguish his spirit must cope, Who breathes thee this wild and eternal farewell :— They hope while they love, but he loves without hope! Literary Gazette.