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HEROD'S LAMENT FOR MARIAMNE.
Oh! Mariamne! now for thee
The heart for which thou bled'st is bleeding ; Revenge is lost in agony,
And wild remorse to rage succeeding. Oh, Mariamne! where art thou ?
Thou canst not hear my bitter pleading ! Ah, could'st thou thou would'st pardon now,
Though heaven were to my prayer unheeding.
And is she dead ?-and did they dare
Obey my phrenzy's jealous raving ? My wrath but doomed my own despair :
The sword that smote her's o'er me waving: But thou art cold, my murdered love!
And this dark heart is vainly craving For her who soars alone above,
And leaves my soul unworthy saving.
She sunk, with her my joys emtombing;
Whose leaves for me alone were blooming.
This boson's desolation dooming;
THE TOO EARLY OPENING FLOWER.
Not yet, frail flower ! thy charms unclose ;
Too soon thou venturest forth again ;
For April has its winter-rain,
The northern wind may reach thee still,
And injure-nay, for ever kill
That at the first approach of spring,
Thou madest thy bud unfold its wing, And show its blush to every eye;
For March a faithless smile discloses.
If thou wouldst bloom securely here.
Let Phoebus first o'ertake the steer: Thou'rt like the seaman, who reposes On one fair day---one favouring wind,
Weighs anchor, and the future braves :..
But sighs, when on the ocean waves,
Borne at the mercy of the gale,
The sands and brine and foam beneath,
That every wave contains a death, That every plunge will be his last. Thou'rt like the courtier, who, elate
When greeted first by favour's ray,
Begins to make a grand display,
The courtiers and the flowers that rise
Too suddenly 'neath changeful skies, Oft sink into the dust and fade,
In short, we all are like thy flower,
And ever, both in weal and woe,
With strange perverseness we bestow Our thoughts on time's swift-fleeting hour. And 'tis the same with those who piné,
And deem that grief will never flee,
And those who, bred in luxury, Think the gay sún will always shine ; For every joy brings sorrow too,
And even grief may herald mirth;
And God has mingled life on earth
And verdant summer winter's blight ;
Thus reign by turns the day and night ;am
All withered by a fate unkind,
Call wisdom's proverb to thy mind
ON HEARING THAT
THE AUSTRIANS HAD ENTERED NAPLES.
Aye-down to the dust with them, slaves as they are
On, on, like a cloud, through their beautiful vales,
May their fate be a mock-word-may men of all lands
And deep, and more deep, as the iron is driven,
be To think-as the damned haply think of that heaven They had once in their reach--that they might have been