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There stood proud forms before his throne,
The stately and the brave;
That one beneath the wave ?
In pleasure's reckless train ;
He never smiled again !
He sat where festal bowls went round;
He heard the minstrel sing
Amidst the knightly ring :
Was blent with every strain,
He never smiled again !
Hearts, in that time, closed o'er the trace
Of vows once fondly poured,
At many a joyous board ;
Were left to heaven's bright rain,
OH! THE LADY I ADMIRE.
Oh! the Lady I admire is so beautiful and bright,
The ringlets clustering o'er her brow, are of an auburu
dye, And radiant as the golden light that gilds the summer
sky; Her voice has all the melody of an Æolian lyre, And dearly, dearly do I love the Lady I admire.
The beauty of her modest cheek outshines the rose's hue, Her brow is like the moonlight when 'tis loveliest to view, Her blooming lips my bosom fill with rapturous desire, And dearly, dearly do I love the Lady I admire.
And oh ! her smile is sweeter than the sunshine on the
sea, I'd give the world, were it mine, if she would smile on me; I'll love her till the throb of life shall from
heart expire, Oh dearly, dearly do I love the Lady I admire.
STANZAS ON A LADY.
She was a thing of morn, with the soft calm
Of summer evening in her pensive air,
To soothe away all sorrow save despair ;
Her radiant brow scarce wore a trace of care A synny lake, where imaged you might trace,
Of hope and memory, all that's bright and fairWhere no rude breath of passion came to chase, Like winds from summer wave, its heaven from that
As one who looks on landscapes beautiful,
Will feel their spirit all his soul pervade,
Even as the heart grows stiller by the lull
Of falling waters when the winds are laid,
Imbibed a sweetness never felt before ;
A brighter hue the lingering wild-flowers wore, And sweeter was the song the wild bird warbled o'er.
Then came consumption with her languid moods,
Her soothing whispers, and her dreams that seek
She came with hectic glow and wasted cheek,
Till her declining loveliness each day,
The words of hope e'en while she passed away,
She died i' the bud of being, in the spring,
The time of flowers, and songs, and balmy air,
But thus 'twas ever with the good and fair-
Upon the snowy brow hath set his seal,
They fade away, and 'scape what others feel,
They laid her in the robes that wrap the dead,
So beautiful in rest, ye scarce might deem
But only lulled in some Elysian dream;
The lingering halo of a parted ray,
Like evening's rose-light when the summer day
John Malcolm, Esq.
MY FATHER'S AT THE HELM.
The curling waves, with awful roar,
A little bark assailed,
O'er all on board prevailed:
Save one, the Captain's darling child,
Who stedfast viewed the storm,