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To pierce the heart with thrilling lay,
Listen to mine Ann Hathaway!

She hath a way to sing so clear,
Phoebus might wondering stop to hear.
To melt the sad, make blithe the gay,
And nature charm, Ann hath a way;
She hath a way,

Ann Hathaway;

To breathe delight, Ann hath a way.

When Envy's breath and rancorous tooth

Do soil and bite fair worth and truth,

And merit to distress betray,

To soothe the heart, Ann hath a way.

She hath a way to chase despair,

To heal all grief, to cure all care,

Turn foulest night to fairest day,

Thou know'st, fond heart, Ann hath a way, She hath a way,

Ann Hathaway;

To make grief bliss, Ann hath a way.

Talk not of gems, the orient list,
The diamond, topaz, amethyst,
The emerald mild, the ruby gay,
Talk of my gem, Ann Hathaway.
She hath a way, with her bright eye,
Their various lustre to defy,—
The jewels she, and the foil they,
So sweet to look Ann Hathaway,
She hath a way,

Ann Hathaway;

To shame bright gems, Ann hath a way.

But were it to my fancy given,

To rate her charms, I 'd call them heaven;

For though a mortal made of clay,

Angels must love Ann Hathaway;

She hath a way so to control,
To rapture the imprisoned soul,
And sweetest heaven on earth display,
That to be heaven Ann hath a way;
She hath a way,

Ann Hathaway;

To be heaven's self, Ann hath a way.

Attributed to SHAKESPEARE.

On Parting with his Books.

As one who, destined from his friends to part,
Regrets his loss, but hopes again, erewhile,
To share their converse and enjoy their smile,
And tempers, as he may, affliction's dart,—
Thus, loved associates! chiefs of elder art!
Teachers of wisdom! who could once beguile
My tedious hours, and lighten every toil,
I now resign you-nor with fainting heart.
For, pass a few short years, or days, or hours,
And happier seasons may their dawn unfold,
And all your sacred fellowship restore;
When, freed from earth, unlimited its powers,
Mind shall with mind direct communion hold,
And kindred spirits meet to part no more.
WILLIAM ROSCOE

Hylas.

"LOVELY river, lovely river,

O to float upon thy stream!
O to rest on thee forever,
Life a long, delicious dream!

"There are forms about me winging,
Far too bright for mortal eye.
There are thoughts within me springing,
That would make it sweet to die."

Where the sparkling crystal waters
Shot in music from their cell,

Couched on rose, the fountain's daughters
Watched the working of their spell.

Hylas, hark! the breeze is gushing
Through thy gallant vessel's sail.
Hylas, hark! the tide is rushing-
Hark! the sailors' parting hail!

But a nobler fate has found thee
Than was e'er by valor won;
And a deeper spell has bound thee
Than was e'er by man undone.

O'er the crystal waters bending,
Low he dips the marble urn;
Thoughts of home and anguish blending
With the dreams that in him burn.

Deeper still the charm is stealing-
Forms of beauty crowd the shore,
Till his brain and eye are reeling-
In he plunges all is o'er !

In the naiads' bosom ever,

Vainly now by hill and grove,
Ocean's marge, and sacred river,

Shalt thou seek him, son of Jove.

ANONYMOUS.

We Parted in Silence.

WE parted in silence, we parted by night,
On the banks of that lonely river;

Where the fragrant limes their boughs unite,
We met and we parted for ever.

The night-bird sang, and the stars above
Told many a touching story,

Of friends long passed to the kingdom of love,
Where the soul wears its mantle of glory.

We parted in silence-our cheeks were wet
With the tears that were past controlling;
We vowed we would never, no, never forget,
And those vows at the time were consoling;
But those lips that echoed the sounds of mine,
Are as cold as that lonely river;
And that eye, that beautiful spirit's shrine,
Has shrouded its fires forever.

And now on the midnight sky I look,

And my heart grows full of weeping;

Each star is to me a sealed book,

Some tale of that loved one keeping. We parted in silence, we parted in tears,

On the banks of that lonely river;

But the odor and bloom of those by-gone years
Shall hang o'er its waters forever.

JULIA CRAWFORD.

Vanitas Vanitatum.

THE stream that hurries by your fixed shore.
Returns no more;

The wind that dries at morn yon dewy lawn
Breathes and is gone;

Those withered flowers to summer's ripening glow
No more shall blow;

Those fallen leaves that strew yon garden bed
For aye are dead;

On shore, or sea, or hill, or vale, or plain,
Naught shall remain;

Vainly for sunshine fled, and joys gone by,
We heave a sigh;

On, ever on, with unexhausted breath,
Time hastes to death;

Even with each word we speak a moment flies-
Is born and dies;

Of all for which poor mortals vainly mourn,
Naught shall return;

Life hath its home in heaven and earth beneath,
And so hath death;

Not all the chains that clank in eastern clime
Can fetter time;

For all the phials in the doctor's store
Youth comes no more;

No drugs on age's wrinkled cheek renew
Life's early hue;

Not all the tears by pious mourners shed
Can wake the dead.

If thus through lesser nature's empire wide
Nothing abide-

If wind, and wave, and leaf, and sun, and flower,
Have all their hour-

He walks on ice whose dallying spirit clings
To earthly things;

And he alone is wise whose well taught love
Is fixed above:

Truths firm and bright, but oft to mortal ear
Chilling and drear;

Harsh as the raven's croak the sounds that tell
Of pleasure's knell.

Pray, reader, that the minstrel's strain

Not all be vain;

And when thou bend'st to God the suppliant knee,

Remember me.

GERALD GRIFFIN.

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