No cloud should ever shade thy sky,
No thorns along thy pathways lie,

But all be sunshine, peace, and love.

The wing of time should never brush
Thy dewy lip's luxuriant flush,

To bid its roses with'ring die;
Nor age itself, though dim and dark,
Should ever quench a single spark
That flashes from my Nona's eye.

THE SYMBOL OF WISDOM.

Mrs. Barbauld, being on a visit to the University of Oxford, in company with a very stupid young nobleman, who acted as Ciceroni; at one of the Colleges it was observed by a person who knew both the parties, how unfortunate she was in her conductor. "Not at all," said a gentleman present; "Minerva, you know, was always attended by an owl."

SABRINA WAKING.

BY CONGREVE.

See, see! she wakes! Sabrina wakes!

And now the sun begins to rise!

Less glorious is the morn, that breaks

From his bright beams, than her fair eyes,

With light united, day they give ;

But diff'rent fates 'ere night fulfil :—
How many, by his warmth, will live;

How many will her coldness kill.

The Spaniards do not often pay hyberbolical compliments, but one of their admired writers, speaking of a lady with black eyes, says, "They were in mourning for the murders they had committed."

TO A LADY.

BY THE HON. W. R. SPENCER.

To soothe thy languid hours, my humble strain
Inspir'd by thee, in happier numbers ran ;
As scentless gales, when Summer burns the plain,
Borrow a fragrance from the Rose they fan!

ELMIRA'S EYE.

I scarce can blame thee, foolish fly,

For venturing near Elmira's eye,

For, giddy fly, thou still delightest

To wanton where the beams are brightest;

And many a gaudy insect round

Doth court that death, which thou hast found.

JULIA VERNON.

BY ALLAN CUNNINGHAM.

It is sweet to meet with one we love,
When the night is nigh the hoarest:
It is sweet to bend the bow, as she bids,
On the proud deer of the forest.

One fair dame loves the cittern's sound,
When the words of love are winging;
But my fair one's music's the outlaw's horn,
And his bowstring sharply singing.

She waves her hand, her little white hand,— "Tis a spell to each who sees her;

One glance of her eye, and I snatch my bow, And let fly my shafts to please her.

I bring the lark from the morning cloud,
When its song is at the sweetest;
I stay the deer upon Chetsworth lea,
When its flight is at the fleetest.

There's magic in the wave of her hand;
And her dark eye rains those glances,
Which fill the best and the wisest heart
With love's sweet influences.

H

Her locks are brown, bright, berry brown,
O'er her temples white descending;

And her neck is like the neck of the swan,
As her graceful way she's wending.

How I have won my way to her heart,
Is past all men's discerning;
For she is lofty, and I am low,-
My lovely JULIA VERNON.

TO A YOUNG LADY, WITH A VOLUME OF POEMS.

BY RICHARD RYAN.

Can blooming wreaths, at banquets shed,
Or cups that boast the purpling stream,
Or songs, whose authors now lie dead,
Make life appear a pleasant dream?
My heart replies-The fairest flower,
The wildest song that passion gave,
Live but a transient fleeting hour,

Then sink in Time's o'erwhelming wave.

'Tis true, to some, Fate grants a name,
(A gift thought precious 'neath the skies;)
But wreaths, for others, Fate or Fame

May save-I gaze but on those eyes;

Each floating tendril hath a wreath,

My wandering heedless heart to bind ;
And when your wishes faintly breathe,
They seek a heart by spells resign'd.

Say, what avails it, when I'm gone,
What future ages think of me?
Oh, dearer far to know that one
Approves me now, and that 'tis thee.
Those eyes shall be my critics now,

They, all my thoughts and heart shall read,
And freely note: but if that brow

Should frown-thy Poet's lost, indeed!

THE EMPRESS MARIA THERESA.

In the juvenile days of this Empress, a French officer, known to be a great connoisseur in beauty, arrived at the Court of Vienna. The Empress heard that the day previous to his arrival he had been in company with a lady celebrated for the multiplicity of her conquests: after congratulating him on so great an addition to his happiness, she asked him if it were true that she was the most handsome princess of her time? The officer, whose school of instruction 'had been the most polished Courts of his age, answered, with exquisite gallantry, "Madam, I thought so yesterday."