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to the twenty years which may be supposed still to lie before her? It would be irksome to pass so long a period in silence, and mortifying to continue to talk nonsense without rosy lips to set it off. Here a certain amount of knowledge might be communicated by those whom inexorable plainness of person had condemned to intellectual exercises in early life; and the circumstances might prove mutually beneficial, since the husbands of the once beautiful would undoubtedly be willing to pay liberally for having some ideas infused into their minds, as provision for the conversation of old age. The face could no longer be injured, while the head, and perhaps the heart, too, might gain materially.

Teeth for the toothless, ringlets for the bald.
And rosea for the cheeks of faded age—

would be valueless, compared with this more potent elixir of life. The practice of the old surgeons, who sometimes filled the shrunken veins of decrepitude with the rich blood of bounding youth, might be considered a precedent for such efforts as we propose. Scruples were sometimes entertained as to the lawfulness of that mode of repairing the decay of Nature; but to the attempt to make education the substitute for beauty, we are sure, society will not object, even though the result should be that " dim horror"—a literary woman.

RUSE D'AMOUR.

STANZAS TO r.

BY EUGENE LIBS.

Erewutls I rowod, in cynic mood,

To make my heart a solitude,

A coll, where never might intrude

Aught to disturb the peace within. I closed, with sceptic bolt and lock, Each entrance to the stubborn rock; And vainly did the passions knock,— ■

They could no entrance win.

Ambition came, with lordly train,
And rattled at the gate in vain;
She promised riches, power, domain,

Her siren-song was lost in air;
For, safe within my citadel,
(Wise Selfishness the sentinel,)
Like the sage oyster in his shell,

I took ne heed, no care.

Soon Love, with sauntering step and bold,
As one who knew the way of old,
Came up, but found his ancient hold
Garrisoned by his mortal foe.

Next Jealousy, who, long, I ween,
An inmate of the place had been,
Essayed to crawl the bars between,
But found her progress slow.

There came a soft rap at the door;
I looked the grated postern o'er,—
It was a gentle thought—no morel

Dear girl, it was a thought of thee.
Nolated sylph, whose mansion-rose
Refused, unkindly, to unclose,
Could plead so sweetly for repose

As plead that thought with me.

Alas, the pleader looked so kind,
I tried the fastenings to unbind,
Nor deemed that ever I should find

A cause so fair a guest to rue;
But Love, with his confederates twain,
Stood watching—In slipped Love amain,
And ere I closed the door again

Crept in the other two.

A VALENTINE.

TO .

BY ANNE C. LYNCH.

As to the distant moon
The sea for ever yearns;

As to the polar star
The earth for ever turns;

So does my constant heart
Beat but for thee alone,

And o'er its far-off heaven of dreams, Thine image high enthrone.

But ah I the moon and sea.

The earth and star meet never; And space as deep and dark and wide

Divideth us for ever.

to the twenty years which may be supposed still to lie before her? It would be irksome to pass so long a period in silence, and mortifying to continue to talk nonsense without rosy lips to set it off. Here a certain amount of knowledge might be communicated by those whom inexorable plainness of person had condemned to intellectual exercises in early life; and the circumstances might prove mutually beneficial, since the husbands of the once beautiful would undoubtedly be willing to pay liberally for having some ideas infused into their minds, as provision for the conversation of old age. The face could no longer be injured, while the head, and perhaps the heart, too, might gain materially.

Teeth for the toothless, ringlets for the bald.
And roses for the checks of faded age—

would be valueless, compared with this more potent elixir of life. The practice of the old surgeons, who sometimes filled the shrunken veins of decrepitude with the rich blood of bounding youth, might be considered a precedent for such efforts as we propose. Scruples were sometimes entertained as to the lawfulness of that mode of repairing the decay of Nature; but to the attempt to make education the substitute for beauty, we are sure, society will not object, even though the result should be that " dim horror"—a literary woman.

RUSE D' AMOUR.

STANZAS TO r.

BY BtTOBNE LIES.

Erewhile I vowed, in cynic mood,

To make my heart a solitude,

A cell, where never might intrude

Aught to disturb the peace within. I closed, with sceptic bolt and lock, Each entrance to the stubborn rock; And vainly did the passions knock,—

They could no entrance win.

Ambition came, with lordly train,
And rattled at the gate in vain;
She promised riches, power, domain,

Her siren-song was lost in air;
For, safe within my citadel,
(Wise Selfishness the sentinel,)
Like the sage oyster in his shell,

I took ne heed, no care.

Soon Love, with sauntering step and bold,
As one who knew the way of old,
Came up, but found his ancient hold
Garrisoned by his mortal foe.

Next Jealousy, who, long, I ween,
An Inmate of the place had been,
Essayed to crawl the bars between,
But found her progress slow.

There came a soft rap at the door;
I looked the grated postern o'er,—
It was a gentle thought—no more!

Dear girl, it was a thought of thee.
No lated sylph, whose mansion-rose
Refused, unkindly, to unclose,
Could plead so sweetly for repose

As plead that thought with me.

Alas, the pleader looked so kind,
I tried the fastenings to unbind,
Nor deemed that ever I should find

A cause so fair a guest to rue;
But Love, with his confederates twain,
Stood watching—in slipped Love amain,
And ere I closed the door again

Crept in the other two.

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to the twenty years which may be supposed still to He before her! It would be irksome to pass eo long a period in silence, and mortifying to continue to talk nonsense without rosy lips to set it off. Here a certain amount of knowledge might be communicated by those whom inexorable plainness of person had condemned to intellectual exercises in early life; and the circumstances might prove mutually beneficial, since the husbands of the once beautiful would undoubtedly be willing to pay liberally for having some ideas infused into their minds, as provision for the conversation of old age. The face could no longer be injured, while the head, and perhaps the heart, too, might gain materially.

Toeth for the toothless, ringlets for thn bald, And rosei for the cheeks of faded agewould be valueless, compared with this more potent elixir of life. The practice of the old surgeons, who sometimes filled the shrunken veins of decrepitude with the rich blood of bounding youth, might be considered a precedent for such efforts as we propose. Scruples were sometimes entertained as to the lawfulness of that mode of repairing the decay of Nature; but to the attempt to make education the substitute for beauty, we are sure, society will not object, even though the result should be that " dim horror"—a literary woman.

RUSE D'AMOUR.

STANZAS TO —r.

BY EUGENE LIES.

ERE^ntLE I vowed, in cynic mood,

To make my heart a sotitude,

A cell, where never might Intrude

Aught to disturb the peace within. I closed, with sceptic bolt and lock, Each entrance to the stubborn rock; And vainly did the passions knock,—

They could no entrance win.

Ambition came, with lordly train,
And rattled at the gate in vain;
She promised riches, power, domain,

Her siren-song was lost in air;
For, safe within my citadel,
(Wise Selfishness the sentinel,)
Like the sage oyster in his shell,

I took ne heed, nc care.

Soon Love, with sauntering step and bold,
As one who knew the way of old,
Came up, but found his ancient hold
Garrisoned by his mortal foe.

Next Jealousy, who, long, I ween,
An inmate of the place had been,
Essayed to crawl the bars between,
But found her progress slow.

There came a soft rap at the door;
I looked the grated postern o'er.—
It was a gentle thought—no more!

Dear girl, it was a thought of thee.
No lated sylph, whose mansion-rose
Refused, unkindly, to unclose,
Could plead so sweetly for repose

As plead that thought with me.

Alas, the pleader looked so kind,
I tried the fastenings to unbind,
Nor deemed that ever I should find

A cause so fair a guest to rue;
But Love, with his confederates twain,
Stood watching—In slipped Love amain.
And ere I closed the door again

Crept in the other two.

A VALENTINE.

BY ANNE C. LYNCH.

As to the distant moon
The sea for ever yearns;

As to the polar star
The earth for ever turns;

So does my constant heart
Beat but for thee alone,

And o'er its far-off heaven of dreams,
Thine image high enthrone.

But ah! the moon and sea,
The earth and star meet never;

And space as deep and dark and wide
Divideth us for ever.

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