Wealth!—a straw within the balance,

Opposed to love, 'twill strike the beam : Kindred-friendship-beauty-talents ?—

All to love as nothing seem;

Weigh love against all else together,
As solid gold against a feather.

Hope is flown-away disguises

Naught but death relief can give—

For the love he little prizes

Cannot cease and Julia live!

Soon my thread of life will sever—

Clifford, fare thee well-for ever!

WOMAN.

Ан, woman!-in this world of ours,

What boon can be compared to thee?—

How slow would drag life's weary hours,

Tho' man's proud brow were bound with flowers, And his the wealth of land and sea,

If destined to exist alone,

And ne'er call woman's heart his own!

My mother!-At that holy name

Within my bosom there's a gush
Of feeling which no time can tame,
A feeling, which for years of fame,
I would not, could not crush!
And sisters!-ye are dear as life,
But when I look upon my wife

My heart-blood gives a sudden rush,

And all my fond affections blend

In mother-sisters-wife and friend!

Yes, woman's love is free from guile

And pure as bright Aurora's ray; The heart will melt before her smile,

And base-born passions fade away!

Were I the monarch of the earth,
Or master of the swelling sea,

I would not estimate their worth,

Dear woman, half the price of thee.

LINES

AFTER THE MANNER OF THE OLDEN TIME.

OH Love! the mischief thou hast done! Thou god of pleasure and of pain! None can escape thee-yes, there's one! All others wear thy heavy chain! Thou cause of all my smiles and tears! Thou blight and bloom of all my years

Thy throne's the heart, despotick boy! And there thou reign'st without control; Thy frown is grief, thy glance is joy

Thy smile the sunbeam of the soul. The buds of spring, the leaves of fall, Thou wearest in thy coronal!

Love maketh glad or maketh sad—

Love is a tyrant and a slave!

The bad makes good-the good makes badThe coward nerves-appals the brave!— Love glistens in the maiden's eyes,

And breathes in kisses, sobs and sighs!

Love bathes him in the morning's dews,
Reclines him in the lily's bell-
Reposes in the rainbow's hues,

And bubbles in the crystal well ;

Or hies him to the coral caves,

Where sea-nymphs sport beneath the waves.

Love vibrates in the wind-harp's tune,

With fays and fairies lingers he-
Gleams in the ring of th' watery moon,

Or treads the pebbles of the sea :
Love enters "court and and grove;"

camp

Oh, every where we meet thee, Love!