Believe Me, if All Those Endearing Young Charms. For the black bat, night, has flown! Come into the garden, Maud, I am here at the gate alone; And the woodbine spices are wafted abroad; And the musk of the roses blown. For a breeze of morning moves, And the planet of Love is on high, Beginning to faint in the light that she loves On a bed of daffodil sky,— To faint in the light of the sun that she loves, To faint in its light, and to die. All night have the roses heard The flute, violin, bassoon; All night has the casement jessamine stirred I said to the lily, "There is but one Low on the sand and loud on the stone I said to the rose, "The brief night goes But mine, but mine," so I sware to the rose Forever and ever mine !" And the soul of the rose went into my blood, From the lake to the meadow, and on to the wood, From the meadow your walks have left so sweet That whenever a March wind sighs, He sets the jewel print of your feet In violets blue as your eyes, The slender acacia would not shake The lilies and roses were all awake, Shine out, little head, sunning over with curls, There has fallen a splendid tear A breath, a touch like this has shaken! And ruder words will soon rush in To spread the breach that words begin; Breaks into floods that part forever. O you, that have the charge of Love, Keep him in rosy bondage bound, As in the fields of bliss above He sits, with flowerets fettered round ;— Loose not a tie that round him clings, Nor ever let him use his wings; For even an hour, a minute's flight Will rob the plumes of half their light. Like that celestial bird,-whose nest Is found beneath far Eastern skies,— Whose wings, though radiant when at rest, Lose all their glory when he flies! -Thomas Moore. THE And left the red clouds to preside o'er the scene, How sweet is the brier, wi' its saft fauldin' blossom She's modest as ony, and blithe as she's bonnie,— And far be the villain, divested of feeling, [blane. Wha'd blight in its bloom the sweet Flower o' Dum Sing on, thou sweet mavis, thy hymn to the e'ening!- How lost were my days till I met wi' my Jessie! I ne'er saw a nymph I would ca' my dear lassie [blane. D Duncan Gray Cam' Here to Woo. UNCAN GRAY cam' here to woo Ha, ha the wooing o't! On blythe Yule night when we were fou― Maggie coost her head fu' high, Ha, ha the wooing o't! Duncan fleeched and Duncan prayed- Ha, ha the wooing o't! Ha, ha! the wooing o't! Time and chance are but a tide- Slighted love is sair to bide Ha, ha! the wooing o't! Shall I, like a fool. quoth he, How it comes let doctors tell- Duncan was a lad o' grace Ha, ha! the wooing o't! Ha, ha! the wooing o't! -Robert Burns. How the Gentlemen Do Before Marriage. H! then they come flattering, OH! Soft nonsense chattering, Praising your pickling, Playing at tickling, Love verses writing, If your finger aches, fretting, Or yards of chantilly, like a great big silly, Never once heeding what they are reading; Or else so zealous, and nice and jealous of all the fellows, Or finding great faults, or threatening assaults when- Or fuming and fussing enough for a dozen, if you romp with your cousin; Continually stopping, when out a shopping, and bank notes dropping, Not seeking to win money, calling it "tin" money, and Like picnics at Twickenham, off lovely cold chicken, Think you still in your teens, wont let you eat "greens," Or heaping caresses, if you curl your black tresses, or wear low-neck'd dresses; |