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THE WOOD NYMPH.
SAW you the Wood-nymph pass this way,
Nature alone can give the grace
That tempers vivacity in her fair form; Like Dian she moves, but her lovely face With rose-hues Dione might envy is warm.
She bounded along like the gentle fawn
Through the glade, then rapidly glided away : Thus vanish the fairies at break of dawn,
When their revels have ended beneath the moon's ray.
"EX FUMO DARE LUCEM."
CIGAR, thou comfort of my life,
Blue devils rush before my sight;
Turns devils into angels bright:
A self-complacency that creeps
At every whiff, a gentle heat
Like that of Love within me glows:
When other consolations fail,
Thou better art than-Wright's Champagne!
WRITTEN ON A FINE MORNING.
"The morn is up, by heavens! a lovely morn,
ANOTHER morn will rise
With splendour on its wings,
But this for ever flies
Away! While beauty flings
A thousand colours o'er
The earth, they reappear:
Yet thou wilt never more
Our hearts exulting cheer.
Sweet morn, on balmy gales
Where dost thou speed thy flight?
To worlds where Love prevails
And wantons with Delight;