Fonder and still more faithful! When the smart

Of care assails the bosom-or the knife Of 'keen endurance' cuts us to the soul, First to support us

-foremost to console !

Oh! what were Man in dark misfortune's hour

Without her cherishing aid ?-A nerveless thing, Sinking ignobly 'neath the passing power

Of every blast of Fortune. She can bring ‘A balm for every wound. As when the shower

More heavily falls, the bird of eve will sing In richer notes; sweeter is woman's voice When through the storm it bids the soul rejoice!

Is there a sight more touching and sublime

Than to behold a creature, who till grief Had taught her lofty spirit how to climb

Above vexation,-and whose fragile leaf, Whilst yet 'twas blooming in a genial clime,

Trembled at every breath, and sought relief

If Heaven but seemed to lour,—suddenly,
Grow vigorous in misfortune, and defy

The pelting storm that in its might comes down

To beat it to the earth;—to see a rose Which in its summer's gaiety a frown

Had withered from its stem, ʼmid wintry snows Lift up its head undrooping, as if grown

Familiar with each chilling blast that blows Across the waste of life-and view it twine Around man's rugged trunk its arms divine !

It is a glorious spectacle !--A sight
Of

power to stir the chords of generous hearts To feeling's finest issues; and requite

The bosom for all world-inflicted smarts.
Such is dear Woman! When the envious blight

Of Fate descends upon her, it imparts
New worth-new grace;- so precious odours grow,
Sweeter when crushed-more fragrant in their woe !

So much for Man's sweet consort ---Heaven's best gift,

Beloved and loving Woman! Even a thought Of her, not seldom, hath the power to lift

My soul above the toils the world hath wrought Round its aspiring wings. But I'm adrift;

Again, have left my hero! Well, 'tis nought; Wiser than I have wandered from their way When Woman was the star that led astray!

ÆTNA.

A SKETCH.

I looked, and saw the face of things quite changed.

PARADISE LOST.

IT

was a lovely night;-the crescent moon (A bark of beauty on its dark blue sea,) Winning its way amid the billowy clouds, Unoared, unpiloted, moved on. The sky Was studded thick with stars, which glittering streamed An intermittent splendour through the heavens. I turned my glance to earth;—the mountain winds Were sleeping in their caves,—and the wild sea, With its innumerous billows, melted down To one unmoving mass, lay stretched beneath

In deep and tranced slumber; giving back
The host above with all its dazzling shene,
To Fancy's ken, as though the luminous sky
Had rained down stars upon its breast. Suddenly,
The scene grew dim : those living lights rushed out,
And the fair moon, with all her gorgeous train,
Had vanished like the frost-work of a dream.

Darkness arose ;-and volumed clouds swept o'er Earth and the ocean. Through the gloom, at times, Sicilian Ætna's blood-red flame was seen Fitfully flickering. The stillness now Yielded to murmurs hurtling on the air From out her deep-voiced crater; and the winds Burst through their bonds of adamant, and lashed The weltering ocean, that so lately lay Calm as the slumbers of a cradled child, To a demoniac's madness. The broad wave Swelled into boiling surges, which appeared, Whene'er the mountain's lurid light revealed