Into the air I breathed a sigh;
She, afar, another breathed —
Sighs that, like a butterfly,
Each went wandering low and high,
Till the air with sighs was wreathed.

When each other long they sought,
On a star-o'er-twinkled hill
Jasmine, trembling with the thought,
Both within her chalice caught,
A lover's potion to distil.

Drank of this a nightingale,
Guided by the starlight wan —
Drank and sang from dale to dale,
Till every streamlet did exhale
Incense to the waking dawn.

Like the dawn, the maiden heard;

Love begg'd and pray'd old Time to stay,
Whilst he and Psyche toy'd together;
Love held his wings, Time tore away,
But, in the scuffle, dropp'd a feather!

Love seiz'd the prize, and with his dart,
Adroitly work'd to trim and shape it; —
" O Psyche! tho' 'tis pain to part,
This charm shall make us half escape it!

" Time need not fear to fly too slow,
When he this useful loss discovers;
A pen's the only plume I know,
That wings his pace for absent lovers! "

Fond dream of love by love repaid,
How soon thy dear illusions flew!
Lavinia smiled, seducing maid!
And then her flattering smile withdrew.

But still that smile, where'er I stray,
In fancy haunts and charms my sight,
Adds splendor to the blaze of day,
And gives it to the gloom of night.

And nought my captive heart can free,
Love as the soul of life I view,
Then, if the soul immortal be,
My love must be immortal too.

TO fair B ELINDA crown the sparkling Bowl,
And let full Bumpers brighten up the Soul;
Yet these small Comforts to my Passion prove,
I'd drink an everlasting DraughTof Love.

Hence far from me, ye senseless joys
That fade before ye reach the heart,....
The crowded dome's distracted noise,
Where all is pomp and useless art!

Give me my home, to quiet dear,
Where hours untold and peaceful move;
So fate ordain I sometimes there
May hear the voice of him I love.

I hate e'en music's pleasing power
When giddy crowds my tones attend,
But love to sing at evening's hour
To sooth the sorrows of a friend.

I love to breathe the plaintive lays
That Henry's heart and taste approve,

THE SONG .

The Eastern portal glows:
The golden glittering doors
Melt now before the glorious sun, which pours
 A sanguine sea of light, and warmth, and mirth,
Till Heaven's great cup o'erflows
 And morning's red wine floods the rounded earth.

 Awake, O ye that sleep!
  Awake! Awake!!!
 But not to weep—
Tears must not flow to-day;
Let sorrow bide, fast-locked and hid away
  In some vast deep,
For Jesus' sake
  We pray
  Amen.

Soft is the sky, and the joy of birds
Breaks from the copse on the budding brae,
And the air hath the dream of the peaceful herds
That graze in the fields to-day.
And the brook hath a turn in its wavering strain
That steals to my heart like a passionate thought,
The phantoms of evil assail me in vain
And I set the world's wisdom at naught.

For my Love goeth forth and her robes are white,
White like the clouds at the break of the dawn,
Fair — fair — and a madness doth burn in my sight,
Lest the vision should be withdrawn:

A SONG .

(Dedicated to a Beautiful Lady.)

A RED rose grew by the rivulet's side,
Softly the breezes blow —
She looked on her face in the glimmering tide,
Softly the breezes blow —
And she glowed with a blush that she could not hide,
Softly the breezes blow.

Oh, sing me a song of love, she said,
Sweetly the waters flow —
Low, full low, did she bend her head,

Once , in the long ago, when Life and Love,
Walked ever hand in hand;
They came to Earth, from some fair realm above,
And wandered through the land.

Much did they find whereon their art to try,
For then the world was new;
They shook the sunbeams from the bended sky,
And steeped the ground with dew.

Upon the fields the emerald turf they spread,
And clad the hills in green;
They laid the meadows on the vales, and led
The glittering streams between.

Life lifted up the flowers throughout the land,

I.

A Book, a Friend, a Song, a Glass,
A chaste, yet laughter-loving Lass,
To Mortals various Joys impart,
Inform the Sense, and warm the Heart.

II.

Thrice happy they, who, careless, laid
Beneath a kind-embow'ring Shade,
With Rosy Wreaths their Temples crown,
In Rosy Wine their Sorrows drown.

III.

Mean while the Muses wake the Lyre,
The Graces modest Mirth inspire,
Good-natur'd Humour, harmless Wit;
Well-temper'd Joys, nor grave, nor light.

IV.

Let Sacred Venus with her Heir ,