FAREWELL.

LORD BYRON, born 1788, died 1824. FAREWELL! if ever fondest prayer For other's weal avail'd on high, Mine will not all be lost in air,

But waft thy name beyond the sky. "Tis vain to speak, to weep, to sigh;

Oh! more than tears of blood can tell, When wrung from guilt's expiring eye, Are in the word-Farewell! Farewell! ¦

These lips are mute, these eyes are dry;
But in my breast, and in my brain,
Awake the pangs that pass not by,

The thought that ne'er shall sleep again
My soul nor deigns, nor dares complain,
Though grief and passion there rebel,
I only know I loved in vain—
I only feel-Farewell! Farewell!

WHEN WE TWO PARTED IN SILENCE AND TEARS.

LORD BYRON.

WHEN we two parted,

In silence and tears,
Half broken-hearted,

To sever for years.

Pale grew the cheek and cold,

Colder thy kiss !

Truly that hour foretold

Sorrow to this.

The dew of the morning
Sunk chill on my brow,
It felt like the warning
Of what I feel now.
Thy vows are all broken,
And light is thy fame,
I hear thy name spoken,
And share in its shame,

They name thee before me,
A knell to mine ear;
A shudder comes o'er me-
Why wert thou so dear?
They know not I know thee,
Who knew thee too well!
Long, long shall I rue thee
Too deeply to tell.

In secret we met,

In silence I grieve,

That my heart would forget,

Thy spirit deceive!

If I should meet thee

After long years,

How should I greet thee?

With silence and tears!

LOVE AND GLORY.

THOMAS DIEDIN, born 1771, died 1841.

YOUNG Henry was as brave a youth
As ever graced a martial story;
And Jane was fair as lovely truth;
She sighed for Love, and he for Glory.

With her his faith he meant to plight,
And told her many a gallant story;
Till war their coming joys to blight,
Call'd him away from Love and Glory.

Young Henry met the foe with pride;

Jane followed, fought! ah, hapless story!

In man's attire, by Henry's side,

She died for Love, and he for Glory.

WHY ARE YOU WAND'RING HERE, I PRAY

From KENNY'S Comedy of "Sweethearts and Wives."

66

Why are you loit'ring here, fair maid ?”

"The nightingale's song, so sweet and clear,

Father," said she "I'm come to hear."
"Fie, fie!" she heard him cry,
"Nightingales all, so people say,
Warble by night, and not by day.

The sage looked grave, the maiden shy,
When Lubin jump'd o'er the style hard by;
The sage look'd graver, the maid more glum,
Lubin, he twiddled his finger and thumb:

W. T. MONCRIEFF, From Poems privately printed, A.D. 1820. WHEN, lull'd in passion's dream my senses slept, How did I act?-e'en as a wayward child; I smiled with pleasure when I should have wept! And wept with sorrow when I should have smiled;

When Gracia, beautiful but faithless fair,

Who long in passion's bonds my heart had kept, First with false blushes pitied my despair,

I smiled with pleasure!-should I not have wept?

And when, to gratify some wealthier wight,

She left to grief the heart she had beguiled;
The heart grew sick, and saddening at the sight,
I wept with sorrow!-should I not have smiled?

OH! NO, WE NEVER MENTION HER.

THOMAS HAYNES BAYLEY, born 1797, died 1839.

OH! no, we never mention her, her name is never heard,
My lips are now forbid to speak, that once familiar word;
From sport to sport they hurry me, to banish my regret,
And when they win a smile from me they think that I forget.

They bid me seek in change of scene the charms that others see,
But were I in a foreign land, they'd find no change in me.
"Tis true that I behold no more the valley where we met,
I do not see the hawthorn tree, but how can I forget?

For oh! there are so many things recall the past to me,
The breeze upon the sunny hills, the billows of the sea;
The rosy tint that decks the sky before the sun is set,
Aye, every leaf I look upon forbids that I forget.

They tell me she is happy now, the gayest of the gay,
They hint that she forgets me too, but I heed not what they say;
Perhaps like me she struggles with each feeling of regret,
But if she loves as I have loved, she never can forget.

66

SALLY.

SAMUEL LOVER.

SALLY, Sally! shilly shally! Sally why not name the day?" "Harry, Harry! I will tarry longer in love's flow'ry way."

"Sally, why not make your mind up? Why embitter thus my cup?" Harry, I've so great a mind, it takes a long time making up."

66