Ere the world and its wickedness made me

A partner of sorrow and sin, When the glory of God was about me, And the glory of gladness within.

All my heart grows weak as a woman's,

And the fountains of feeling will flow, When I think of the paths steep and stony,

Where the feet of the dear ones must go; Of the mountains of sin hanging o'er them, Of the tempest of Fate blowing wild; O, there's nothing on earth half so holy As the innocent heart of a child!

FAITH AND HOPE.

O, DON'T be sorrowful, darling!
Now, don't be sorrowful, pray;
For, taking the year together, my dear,
There is n't more night than day.
It's rainy weather, my loved one;

Time's wheels they heavily run;
But taking the year together, my dear,
There is n't more cloud than sun.

We're old folks now, companion,-
Our heads they are growing gray;
But taking the year all round, my dear,
You always will find the May.
We've had our May, my darling,

And our roses, long ago;

And the time of the year is come, my dear, For the long dark nights, and the snow.

But God is God, my faithful,

Of night as well as of day;
And we feel and know that we can go
Wherever he leads the way.

Ay, God of night, my darling!

Of the night of death so grim;

And the gate that from life leads out, good wife, Is the gate that leads to Him.

A time will come with feeling fraught !
For, if I fall in battle fought,
Thy hapless lover's dying thought
Shall be a thought on thee, Mary.
And if returned from conquered foes,
How blithely will the evening close,
How sweet the linnet sing repose,
To my young bride and me, Mary!

SIR WALTER SCOTT.

TO LUCASTA.

ON GOING TO THE WARS.

TELL me not, sweet, I am unkinde,

That from the nunnerie

Of thy chaste breast and quiet minde, To warre and armes I flee.

True, a new mistresse now I chase.
The first foe in the field;
And with a stronger faith imbrace
A sword, a horse, a shield.

Yet this inconstancy is such

As you, too, shall adore ;

I could not love thee, deare, so much, Loved I not honor more.

RICHARD LOVELACE.

"Believe not what the landmen say

Who tempt with doubts thy constant mind: They'll tell thee, sailors, when away,

In every port a mistress find:

Yes, yes, believe them when they tell thee so, For Thou art present wheresoe'er I go.

"If to fair India's coast we sail,

Thy eyes are seen in diamonds bright, Thy breath is Africa spicy gale,

Thy skin is ivory so white. Thus every beauteous object that I view Wakes in my soul some charm of lovely Sue.

"Though battle call me from thy arms,

Let not.my pretty Susan mourn; Though cannons roar, yet safe from harms William shall to his dear return.

Love turns aside the balls that round me fly, Lest precious tears should drop from Susan's eye."

The boatswain gave the dreadful word,

The sails their swelling bosom spread; No longer must she stay aboard :

They kissed, she sighed, he hung his head. Her lessening boat unwilling rows to land; "Adieu!" she cried; and waved her lily hand. JOHN GAY.

BLACK-EYED SUSAN.

ALL in the Downs the fleet was moored,
The streamers waving in the wind,
When black-eyed Susan came aboard;

"O, where shall I my true-love find? Tell me, ye jovial sailors, tell me true

If my sweet William sails among the crew."

William, who high upon the yard

Rocked with the billow to and fro, Soon as her well-known voice he heard He sighed, and cast his eyes below :

The cord slides swiftly through his glowing hands,

And quick as lightning on the deck he stands.

So the sweet lark, high poised in air,

Shuts close his pinions to his breast
If chance his mate's shrill call he hear,
And drops at once into her nest :-
The noblest captain in the British fleet
Might envy William's lip those kisses sweet.

"O Susan, Susan, lovely dear,

My vows shall ever true remain; Let me kiss off that falling tear;

We only part to meet again.

Change as ye list, ye winds; my heart shall be The faithful compass that still points to thee.

HERO TO LEANDER.

O, Go not yet, my love,

The night is dark and vast;

The white moon is hid in her heaven above,
And the waves climb high and fast

O, kiss me, kiss me, once again,

Lest thy kiss should be the last.
O, kiss me ere we part;

Grow closer to my heart.

My heart is warmer surely than the bosom of

the main.

O joy! O bliss of blisses!

My heart of hearts art thou. Come, bathe me with thy kisses. My eyelids and my brow. Hark how the wild rain hisses,

And the loud sea roars below.

Thy heart beats through thy rosy limbs,
So gladly doth it stir;

Thine eye in drops of gladness swims.

I have bathed thee with the pleasant myrrh;

Thy locks are dripping balm ;
Thou shalt not wander hence to-night,
I'll stay thee with my kisses.
To-night the roaring brine
Will rend thy golden tresses;