While of nought else I think; to him I give
My spirit, and for him alone I live:

Bear him within my heart, as mothers bear
The last and youngest object of their care.
Servian Poetry.-BOWRING.

THE VOW.

That is the hour, beloved of Heaven,
When plighted faith is purely given;
When lovers blending heart with heart,
And, silent, mingling hand with hand,
Before God's sacred altar stand,
No more in life to part;

Then lowly kneel them down to pray,

That youth's devoted fire

Should ever burn with equal sway,
Till love with life expire.

That when fast-gathering storms prevail,

And sorrow dims the tearful eye;
And those we once deem'd faithful, fly
Before the changing gale;

Those vows might not be given in vain :
That summer hours of cloudless joy,—
That years of sickness, grief and pain,
Might ne'er that silver link destroy.

And oh in man's most dreary hour,

Has woman's voice the magic power

That tames the haughty heart, and glads the aching sight,

And gilds with brighter beam the deep'ning night.

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LORD PORCHester.

SONG.

Deck not with gems that lovely form for me,
They in my eyes can add no charm to thee.
Braid not for me the tresses of thy hair;

I must have loved thee had'st thou not been fair.

How oft, when half in tears, thou hast beguiled The sorrow from my heart, and I have smiled. Oh! form'd alike my tears and smiles to share, I must have loved thee hadst thou not been fair.

Time on that cheek his withering hand may press,
He may do all but make me love thee less ;
The mind defies him, and thy charm lies there,
I must have loved thee hadst thou not been fair.

BAYLEY.

F

THE PRAYER OF EARTHLY LOVE.

Unseen she pray'd,

With all the still, small whispers of the night,
And with the searching glances of the stars,

And with her God alone! She lifted up

Her sad, sweet voice, while trembling o'er her head The dark leaves thrill'd with prayer the tearful

prayer

Of woman's quenchless yet repentant love.

"Father of spirits, hear!

Look on the inmost soul, to Thee reveal'd ; Look on the fountain of the burning tear, Before thy sight in solitude unseal'd!

"Hear, Father! hear and aid!

If I have loved too well, if I have shed,
In my vain fondness, o'er a mortal head,
Gifts, on Thy shrine, my God, more fitly laid;

"If I have sought to live

But in one light, and made a mortal eye
The lonely star of my idolatry,

-Thou, that art Love, oh! pity and forgive!

"Chasten'd and school'd at last,

No more my struggling spirit burns,

But fix'd on Thee, from that vain worship turns! -What have I said? the deep dream is not past.

"Yet hear! If still I love,

Oh! still too fondly-if, for ever seen, An earthly image comes my soul between, And thy calm glory, Father, throned above;

"If still a voice is near

(Even while I strive these wanderings to control)

An earthly voice, disquieting my soul,

With its deep music, too intensely dear

“O, Father, draw to Thee

My lost affections back!—the dreaming eyes Clear from the mist - sustain the heart that dies; Give the worn soul once more its pinions free!

"I must love on, O God!

This bosom must love on! but let Thy breath Touch and make pure the flame that knows not death,

Bearing it up to Heaven, Love's own abode !"

I do love violets!

They tell the history of woman's love;
They open with the earliest breath of spring;
Lead a sweet life of perfume, dew and light,
And, if they perish, perish with a sigh
Delicious as that life. On the hot June

They shed no perfume: the flowers may remain
But the rich breathing of their leaves is past.-
The violet breath of love is purity.

WEDDED LOVE.

LANDON.

In joyous youth what soul hath never known Thought, feeling, taste, harmonious to his own? Who hath not paus'd while Beauty's pensive eye Ask'd from his heart the homage of a sigh? Who hath not own'd, with rapture-smitten frame, The power of grace, the magic of a name?

Who that would ask a heart to dulness wed,
The waveless calm, the slumber of the dead?
the wild bliss of Nature needs alloy,

No;
And fear and sorrow fan the fire of joy!

And say, without our hopes, without our fears,
Without the home that plighted love endears,
Without the smile from partial beauty won,
Oh! what were man?. a world without a sun!