Like some poor nigh-related guest,
That may not rudely be dismist.

Yet hath outstay'd his welcome while,
And tells the jest without the smile.

A DAY DREAM.

My eyes make pictures, when they are shut:

I see a fountain, large and fair,

A willow and a ruined hut,

And thee, and me and Mary there.

O Mary! make thy gentle lap our pillow!

Bend o'er us, like a bower, my beautiful green willow!

A wild-rose roofs the ruined shed,

And that and summer well agree :
And lo! where Mary leans her head,

Two dear names carved upon the tree !
And Mary's tears, they are not tears of sorrow:
Our sister and our friend will both be here to-morrow.

'Twas day! But now few, large, and bright

The stars are round the crescent moon!

And now it is a dark warm night,

The balmiest of the month of June!

A glow-worm fallen, and on the marge remounting
Shines and its shadow shines, fit stars for our sweet fountain.

O ever-ever be thou blest!

For dearly, Asra, love I thee!

This brooding warmth across my breast,

This depth of tranquil bliss-ah me!

Fount, tree, and shed are gone, I know not whither,
But in one quiet room we three are still together.

The shadows dance upon the wall,

By the still dancing fire-flames made;

And now they slumber, moveless all!

And now they melt to one deep shade!

But not from me shall this mild darkness steal thee:

I dream thee with mine eyes, and at my heart I feel thee!

Thine eyelash on my cheek doth play-
'Tis Mary's hand upon my brow!
But let me check this tender lay

Which none may hear but she and thou!
Like the still hive at quiet midnight humming,
Murmur it to yourselves, ye two beloved women!

FIRST ADVENT OF LOVE.

O FAIR is Love's first hope to gentle mind!
As Eve's first star thro' fleecy cloudlet peeping;
And sweeter than the gentle south-west wind,
O'er willowy meads and shadow'd waters creeping ;
And Ceres' golden fields;-the sultry hind
Meets it with brow uplift, and stays his reaping.

NAMES.

I ASKED my fair one happy day,

What I should call her in my lay;

By what sweet name from Rome or Greece;

Lalage, Neæra, Chloris,

Sappho, Lesbia, or Doris,

Arethusa or Lucrece.

"Ah!" replied my gentle fair,

"Beloved, what are names but air?

Choose thou whatever suits the line;

Call me Sappho, call me Chloris,

Call me Lalage or Doris,

Only, only call me Thine.'

DESIRE.

WHERE true Love burns Desire is Love's pure flame; It is the reflex of our earthly frame,

That takes its meaning from the nobler part, And but translates the language of the heart. *See Lessing's Lieder. Die Namen.

LOVE AND FRIENDSHIP OPPOSITE.

HER attachment may differ from yours in degree,
Provided they are both of one kind;

But Friendship how tender so ever it be

Gives nò accord to Love, however refin'd.

Love, that meets not with Love, its true nature revealing,
Grows asham'd of itself, and demurs:

If you can not lift hers up to your state of feeling,
You must lower down your state to hers.

NOT AT HOME.

THAT Jealousy may rule a mind
Where Love could never be
I know; but ne'er expect to find
Love without Jealousy.

She has a strange cast in her ee,
A swart sour-visaged maid—
But yet Love's own twin-sister she
His house-mate and his shade.

Ask for her and she'll be denied
What then? they only mean
Their mistress has lain down to sleep,
And can't just then be seen.

TO A LADY,

OFFENDED BY A SPORTIVE OBSERVATION THAT WOMEN HAVE

NO SOULS.

NAY, dearest Anna! why so grave?

I said, you had no soul, 'tis true!

For what you are, you can not have :

'Tis I, that have one since I first had you!

I HAVE heard of reasons manifold
Why Love must needs be blind,
But this the best of all I hold-
His eyes are in his mind.

What outward form and feature are
He guesseth but in part;
But what within is good and fair

He seeth with the heart.

LINES

SUGGESTED BY THE LAST WORDS OF BERENGARIUS.
OB. ANNO DOM. 1088.

No more 'twixt conscience staggering and the Pope
Soon shall I now before my God appear,

By him to be acquitted, as I hope;

By him to be condemned, as I fear.

REFLECTION ON THE ABOVE.

Lynx amid moles! had I stood by thy bed,
Be of good cheer, meek soul! I would have said:
I see a hope spring from that humble fear.

All are not strong alike through storms to steer

Right onward. What? though dread of threaten'd des
And dungeon torture made thy hand and breath
Inconstant to the truth within thy heart?

That truth, from which, through fear, thou twice didst
Fear haply told thee, was a learned strife,
Or not so vital as to claim thy life:

And myriads had reached Heaven, who never knew
Where lay the difference 'twixt the false and true!

Ye, who secure 'mid trophies not your own,
Judge him who won them when he stood alone,
And proudly talk of recreant Berengare-
O first the age, and then the man compare!
That age how dark! congenial minds how rare!

No host of friends with kindred zeal did burn!
No throbbing hearts awaited his return!
Prostrate alike when prince and peasant fell,
He only disenchanted from the spell,

Like the weak worm that gems the starless night,
Moved in the scanty circlet of his light:

And was it strange if he withdrew the ray
That did but guide the night-birds to their prey?

The ascending day-star with a bolder eye
Hath lit each dew-drop on our trimmer lawn!
Yet not for this, if wise, shall we decry
The spots and struggles of the timid dawn;
Lest so we tempt th' approaching noon to scorn
The mists and painted vapors of our morn.

SANCTI DOMINICI PALLIUM;

A DIALOGUE BETWEEN POET AND FRIEND,

FOUND WRITTEN ON THE BLANK LEAF AT THE BEGINNING OF BUTLER'S BOOK OF THE CHURCH.

POET.

I NOTE the moods and feelings men betray,
And heed them more than aught they do or say;
The lingering ghosts of many a secret deed
Still-born or haply strangled in its birth;

These best reveal the smooth man's inward creed!
These mark the spot where lies the treasure Worth!

made up of impudence and trick,

With cloven tongue prepared to hiss and lick,
Rome's brazen serpent-boldly dares discuss
The roasting of thy heart, O brave John Huss!
And with grim triumph and a truculent glee
Absolves anew the Pope-wrought perfidy,
That made an empire's plighted faith a lie,
And fix'd a broad stare on the Devil's eye-