Page images


SAW you the Wood-nymph pass this way,
As light in her step as a spirit of air,
With cheeks all glowing, and look so gay,
While the breeze plays with her beautiful hair?

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.



CIGAR, thou comfort of my life,
With joy I taste thy fragrant leaf;
It soothes me when my heart's at strife
With the world's cares; it gives relief
When at an inn in lonely hour

Blue devils rush before my sight;
Its sweet intoxicating power

Turns devils into angels bright:
The cold that chills my feeble frame,
As damps arise, it soon dispels;
In thee composure, or what name
Does better suit the feeling, dwells.

A self-complacency that creeps
O'er all the senses, thou alone
Canst give; till every passion sleeps,
And thought assumes a milder tone.


At every whiff, a gentle heat

Like that of Love within me glows:
Through thee my friends are doubly sweet,
I almost love my few of foes.-
If such thy virtues be, Cigar,

When other consolations fail,
If thou canst drive from man afar
Those sorrows that his heart assail;
If thou canst make the world appear
As in the glass of Claude Lorraine
Of loveliest hues-why then, 'tis clear

Thou better art than-Wright's Champagne!


"The morn is up, by heavens! a lovely morn,
With breath all incense, and with cheek all bloom,
Laughing away the clouds."-BYRON.

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;

Where ever-blooming Youth,

With Pleasure at his side,
And Innocence and Truth
In golden courts abide ?

Then, gentle morn, awhile

Thy odours let me breathe : Heaven seems above to smile, 'Tis Paradise beneath.

Flowers freshly gemm'd with dew In tears entreat thy stay;

And birds of every hue

[blocks in formation]
« PreviousContinue »