-Such was the lady's account of her Day in Venice,' and such the narrative related to her. "It is all I remember," said she, in conclusion; "not much, you will say: yet it was sufficient to interest me at the time, although there are not materials enough in it to constitute a story." C. THE GIANT'S CAUSEWAY. Look round in awe, Sesostris! and behold, Of pillared promontory breasting bold Ye wasted nations in the toil to heap The pyramid, or rear aloft in gold Your giant gods. A legend and a name, Are all that now survive to mark aright What once was fane or palace, wall or tower; While here, and without hands, is reared a frame That shall record the sovereign builder's might, H. JULIET AFTER THE MASQUERADE. From a Picture, by Henry Thomson, Esq., R.A. Those fond, vague dreams, that make love's happiness; Its first-and oh, its last! I. SHE has left the lighted hall, She has flung down cap and plume, Her eye wears softer light, And her cheek a tenderer bloom : II. And her hair in sunny showers Falls o'er her marble brow, From its midnight bonds of pearl, Free as her thoughts are now. III. She has left the yet glad dance, O'er those gentle thoughts to brood, That haunt a girl's first hour Of love-touched solitude. IV. Music's sweet and distant sound Comes floating on the air, From the banquet-room it tells The dancers still are there : But she, their loveliest one, VI. To think on low, soft words, VII. How beautiful she looks Beneath that moonlit sky, VIII. Spell-like, the festal scene |