THE ROSE.

Queen of fragrance, lovely rose,
The beauties of thy leaves disclose !
The winter's past, the tempests fly,
Soft gales breathe gently thro' the sky;
The lark sweet warbling on the wing,
Salutes the gay return of spring:
The silver dews, the vernal show'rs,
Call forth a bloomy waste of flow'rs;
The joyous fields, the shady woods,
Are cloth'd with green, or swell with buds;
Then haste thy beauties to disclose
Queen of fragrance, lovely rose !

Thou, beauteous flow'r, a welcome guest, Shalt flourish on the fair-one's breast,

Shalt grace her hand or deck her hair,
The flow'r most sweet, the nymph most fair ;
Breathe soft, ye winds! be calm ye skies,
Arise ye flow'ry race, arise !
And haste thy beauties to disclose,
Queen of fragrance, lovely rose!

But thou, fair nymph, thyself survey
In this sweet offspring of a day;
That miracle of face must fail,
Thy charms are sweet, but charms are frail:
Swift as the short-liv'd flow'r they fly,
At noon they bloom, at evening die :
Tho' sickness yet awhile forbears,
Yet time destroys, what sickness spares ;
Now Helen lives alone in fame,
And Cleopatra’s but a name ;

Time must indent that heav'nly brow,
And thou must be, what Helen's now.

This moral to the fair disclose,
Queen of fragrance, lovely rose.

BROOME.

THE DEATH OF JAÏRUS' DAUGHTER.

A FRAGMENT.

Borne on that sigh, her gentle spirit rose, Buoyant through yon blue concave; and shook off (Half angel, ere it filed) its beauteous clay, To its bright home by sister-seraphs led And by glad myriads of the sainted just, Greeted with hymns of triumph. So the lark, Late in some sunless cottage-nook confin'd

The toy of froward youth, if chance throw wide
It's prison-doors and bid the captive range
Free as its kindred choir, with strange delight
Hears and obeys; and, soaring to the skies,
Floats on light plume amid the liquid noon.

WRANGHAM.

THE SHIP

The anchor's heavid-she's under weigh,

The gallant bark swings round,
What fervent sighs on that sad day,

From lovers' lips resound !

And many a noble heart doth swell

And many a bosom bleeds
While, as they breathe a last“ farewell,”

The lessening land recedes !

The wanton zephyrs round her play,

And woo her, as she laves

Her bosom in the ocean-spray,

And dances on the waves!

And long she plough'd the pathless main,

Bound strait to India's shore, But did she e'er return again?

No never! never more!

The lazy billows softly sleep

They dream not of the storm, Smooth as a glass, the dark blue deep,

Reflects her lovely form !

But tempest suddenly awakes

The sky is overcast !
Enraged-his foaming crest he shakes,

And blows a thundering blast,