Come all and watch one night about my hearse;

Bring each a mournful story and a tear,

To offer at it when I go to earth."

The Maid's Tragedy, by BEAUMONT and
FLETCHER.

A HEART full of feeling, poor Rosa, was thine,
Thy virtues deceived thee indeed;
But beauty and tenderness frequently shine.
In the victims predestined to bleed.

Some pitiless hypocrite tainted thy youth,
Thus the morn of thy life was o'ercast;
He spoke but of happiness-cruel untruth!
At that moment for ever 'twas past.

Thy spirit, that sported in yesterday's light,
Now sadden'd and droop'd in the shade;

Like the Garland of Chloe * that wither'd at night,
Thy innocence blossom'd to fade.

*See Prior's Garland.

Rejected of man, the poor sufferer sought

That mercy denied her on earth,

From Him, in whose eyes our best virtues are nought, If haughtiness pampers their worth.

She loved-was betray'd-is misfortune a crime?

Ah no! that I ne'er can believe;

The seducer may thrive in his guilt for a time,
There is ONE whom he cannot deceive.

Fair mourner! thy agony soon will be o’er,
Since Mercy is hovering nigh;

That pang-'tis the price of forgiveness—no more,
Thou art welcomed by angels on high.

VERSES

ON THE COMMEMORATION OF THE SECOND CENTENARY OF

SHAKSPEARE.

WHAT beings, Ariel-like, appear
To flit along the sky?

'Tis come, 'tis come the joyous year,
In gladsomeness they cry.

Their eyes with brighter radiance shine,
Lighter their wings, and oh! how fine!
Merrily, merrily, from the air

To Fancy's pictured hall repair.

There fairy-land in landscape glows;
There Oberon shall crown the brows
Of him to whom 'tis meet to pay
Our homage on this holy-day.

There shines not the sun; but a new light from heaven, Many-colour'd as Iris, to Genius is given;

Who waves it, and waving it, fitfully plays

O'er our Shakspeare's fine eyes that reflect back its rays.

Lo! seated on her opal throne

In robes, eye-spotted, Fancy smiles; Well might she smile, her fruitful zone With varied pleasures life beguiles. Before her bright eyes, as if in a glass, Fresh scenes in succession continually pass. Unshrouding now her awful form; (Around her how the passions storm!) Though ever young yet full of eld,”

66

" *

Great Nature comes, as music swell'd
Through Fancy's hall, a mingled strain,-
Since pleasure, sorrow, all the train
Of subject feelings on her wait,
Her darling's fame to consecrate.

Quickly through the golden gate
Glide the fairies, to relate

All their pranks of yesternight;
With their coronals of flowers,
Gather'd after April showers,
'Tis indeed a lovely sight.

"Hail! mortal, hail, near Avon's stream, As o'er thy slumbers Nature smiled,

We stole upon thee in a dream,

To fill thy soul with fancies wild.

* Spenser.

The moonlight slept upon the bank,

To charm thy guardian from our prank;

But still her sweet influence watch'd o'er thy head,
To temper the thoughts which our cunning had bred.
Then Nature and Fancy their labours combined
To store with their wonderful treasures thy mind;
-Now place we on thy head a crown,
Fit for thy brows, and thine alone."

The poet bows, his looks express
An intellectual consciousness;
His features are so heavenly fair,
The mind, the eternal mind beams there.