The youth for whom thy bosom sighs a
Shall oft delight thy conscious eyes;
And oft his voice, in accents sweet,
Shall friendship's soothing song repeat.
But he for whom my cheek is pale,
For whom my health and spirits fail,
Nought to my eyes can e'er restore,
And I shall hear his voice no more.

Thou in existence still canst find
A charm to captivate thy mind,
To make the morning ray delight,
And gild the gloomy brow of night.
But Nature's charms to me are fled;
I nought behold but Henry dead :
What can my love of life restore?
I sigh for him who lives no more.

MRS. OPIE.

DRIED be that tear, my gentlest love,
Be husht that struggling sigh;
Not seasons, day, nor Fate shall prove
More fixt, more true than I.

Husht be that sigh, be dry that tear,
Cease, boding doubt-cease, anxious fear!

Dost

Dost ask how long my vows shall stay

When all that's new is past?
How long, my Delia? can I say

How long my life will last?
Dried be that tear, be husht that sigh,
At least I'll love thee till I die.

And does that thought affect thee too,
The thought of Sylvio's death,
That he who only breathes for you

Must yield that faithful breath?
Husht be that sigh, be dried that tear,
Nor let us lose our heaven here!

R. B. SHERIDAN.

АH! tell me not that jealous fear

Betrays a weak suspicious mind ;
Were I less true, and thou less dear,
I should be blest, and thou be kind.

But while, by giddy fancy led,

In search of joy you wildly rove,
Say, can my mind be free from dread,
When every sense is chain'd by love?

H 2

Yet

Yet soon my anxious fears shall cease;
Since I am doom'd from thee to part,
That day will give me lasting peace,

For oh! that day will break my heart.

Ir in that breast, so good, so pure,
Compassion ever loved to dwell,
Pity the sorrows I endure;

The cause I must not, dare not tell.

The grief that on my quiet preys,

That rends my heart, that checks my tongue,

I fear will last me all my days,

But feel it will not last me long.

*

*From the French.

SIR J. MOORE.

Too plain, dear youth, these tell-tale eyes

My heart your own declare;

But for heaven's sake let it suffice

You reign triumphant there!

Forbear

Forbear your utmost power to try,

Nor further urge your sway; Press not for what I must deny, For fear I should obey.

Could all your arts successful prove,
Would you a maid undo

Whose greatest failing is her love,
And that, her love for you?

Say, would you use that very power
You from her fondness claim,

To ruin in one fatal hour

A life of spotless fame?

Resolve not then to do an ill

Because perhaps you may,
But rather use your utmost skill
To save me than betray.

Be you yourself my virtue's guard,
Defend and not pursue,
Since 'tis a task for me too hard
To strive with love and you.

SOAME JENYNS.

BY

my sighs you may discover What soft wishes touch my heart; Eyes can speak, and tell the lover What the tongue must not impart.

STREPHON, when you see me fly
Let not this your fear create:
Maids may be as often shy

Out of love as out of hate :
When from you I fly away,
It is because I dare not stay.

Blushing shame forbids revealing
Thoughts your breast may disapprove ;
But 'tis hard, and past concealing,
When we truly, fondly love.

Did I out of hatred run,

Less you'd be my pain and care; But the youth I love, to shun,

Who can such a trial bear? Who that such a swain did see, Who could love and fly like me ?