Can vie with the modest Eulalie's most unregarded curl— Can compare with the bright-eyed Eulalie's most humble and careless curl.

Now doubt-now pain
Come never again,

For her soul gives me sigh for sigh;
And all day long

Shines, bright and strong,

Astarté within the sky;

While ever to her dear Eulalie upturns her matron eyeWhile ever to her

young Eulalie upturns her violet eye.

My tantalized spirit
Here blandly reposes,
Forgetting, or never
Regretting its roses—
Its old agitations

Of myrtles and roses :

For now, while so quietly
Lying, it fancies

A holier odour

About it, of pansies

A rosemary odour,

Commingled with pansiesWith rue and the beautiful Puritan pansies.

And so it lies happily,
Bathing in many

A dream of the truth

And the beauty of Annie—

Drowned in a bath

Of the tresses of Annie.

She tenderly kissed me,

She fondly caressed,

And then I fell gently

To sleep on her breast

Deeply to sleep

From the heaven of her breast.

When the light was extinguished,
She covered me warm,

And she prayed to the angels
To keep me from harm—
To the queen of the angels

To shield me from harm.

FOR her this rhyme is penned, whose luminous eyes,
Brightly expressive as the twins of Lœda,
Shall find her own sweet name, that nestling lies
Upon the page, enwrapped from every reader.
Search narrowly the lines!—they hold a treasure
Divine-a talisman-an amulet

That must be worn at heart. Search well the measure-
The words-the syllables! Do not forget

*In this and the following poem, read the first letter of the first line in connection with the second letter of the second line, the third letter of the third line, the fourth of the fourth, and so on to the end. The name of the person to whom it was addressed will thus appear.

The trivialest point, or you may lose your labour!
And yet there is in this no Gordion knot
Which one might not undo without a sabre,

If one could merely comprehend the plot.
Enwritten upon the leaf where now are peering
Eyes scyntillating soul, there lie perdus
Three eloquent words oft uttered in the hearing
Of poets, by poets—as the name is a poet's too.
Its letters, although naturally lying

Like the knight Pinto-Mendez Ferdinando— Still form a synonym for Truth.—Cease trying! You will not read the riddle, though you do the best you can do.

An Enigma.

"SELDOM we find,” says Solomon Don Dunce,
“Half an idea in the profoundest sonnet.
Through all the flimsy things we see at once
As easily as through a Naples bonnet-
Trash of all trash!-how can a lady don it?
Yet heavier far than your Petrarchan stuff—
Owl-downy nonsense that the faintest puff

Twirls into trunk-paper the while you con it.”
And veritably, Sol is right enough.
The general tuckermanities are arrant
Bubbles-ephemeral and so transparent-

But this is, now-you may depend upon it—

Stable, opaque, immortal-all by dint

Of the dear names that lie concealed within 't.

THE END.

HENRY VIZETELLY, PRINTER AND ENGRAVER, GOUGH SQUARE, FLEET STREET,