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, 'mid 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!

ETNA.

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

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