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Though my many faults defaced me,

Could no other arm be found Than the one which once embraced me,

To inflict a cureless wound ?

Yet, 0, yet thyself deceive not:

Love may sink by slow decay ; But hy sudden wrench, believe not

Hearts can thus be torn away :

Then hear me, bounteous Heaven,
Pour down your blessings on this beauteous head,
Where everlasting sweets are always springing,
With a continual giving hand : let peace,
Honor, and safety always hover round her :
Feed her with plenty ; let her eyes ne'er see
A sight of sorrow, nor her heart know mourning;
Crown all her days with joy, her nights with rest,
Harinless as her own thoughts ; and prop her

virtue,
To bear the loss of one that too much loved ;
And comfort her with patience in our parting.

Still thine own its life retaineth,

Still must mine, though bleeding, beat; And the undying thought which paineth

Is — that we no more may meet.

THOMAS OTWAY.

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SHAKESPEARE

TO HIS UNKIND MISTRESS NOT TO FORSAKE HIM,

A ... so my patent back again is swerving. But those lips that echoed the sounds of mine
Tuyself thuu gav'st, thy own worth then not Are as cold as that lonely river;
knowing,

And that eye, that beautiful spirit's shrine,
Or me, to whom thou gav’st it, else mistaking ; Has shrouded its fires forever.
Sithy great gist, upon misprision growing,
Lomnes bome again, on better judgment making.

And now on the midnight sky I look,
Thus have I had thee, as a dream doth flatter : Each star is to nie a sealed book,

And my heart grows full of weeping;
In sleep a king, but, waking, no such matter.

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

On the banks of that lonely river:

But the odor and bloom of those bygone years AV EARS EST SUIT,

Shall hang o'er its waters forever.

JULIA CRAWFORD.
AND wilt thou leave me thus ?
Say nay! say nay! for shame!

FAREWELL! BUT WHENEVER.
To save thee from the Wame
Of all my grief and grame.

FAREWELL! but whenever you welcome the
And wilt thou leave me thus ?

hour Say nay ! say nay !

That awakens the night-song of nirth in your

bower, And wilt thou leave me thus,

Then think of the friend who once welcomed it That hath loved thee so long,

too, In wealth and woe among?

And forgot his own griefs, to be happy with you. And is thy heart so strong

His griefs may return not a hope may remain As for to leave ine thus ?

Of the few that have brightened his pathway of Say nay ! Say lay !

pain —

But he ne'er can forget the short vision that And wilt thou leave me thus,

threw That liath given thee my heart,

Its enchantment around him while lingering
Never for to depart,

with you !
Neither for pain nor smart ?
And wilt thou leave me thus ?

And still on that evening when Pleasure fills mp
Say say ! say nay !

To the high st top sparkle each heart and each

CUP,
And wilt thou leave me thus,

Where'er my path lies, be it gloomy or bright,
And have no more pity

My soul, happy friends! will be with you that Of him that loveth thee !

night : Alas! thy cruelty !

Shall join in your revels, your sports, and your And wilt thou leave me thus ?

wiles, Say nay ! say nay !

And return to me, beaming all o'er with your

smiles Too blest if it tell me that, mid the gay cheer,

Some kind voice has murmured, “I wish lie WE PARTED IN SILENCE.

were here! We parted in silence, we parted by night, Let Fate do her worst, there are relics of joy, On the banks of that lonely river ;

Bright dreams of the past, which she cannot Where the fragrant limes their boughs unite,

destroy ; We met - and we parted forever !

Which come, in the night-time of sorrow and care, The night-bird sung, and the stars above

And bring back the features which joy used to Told many a touching story, of friends long passed to the kingdom of love, Long, long be my heart with such memories filled ! Where the soul wears its mantle of glory. Like the vase in which roses have once been

distilled We parted in silence, - our cheeks were wet

You may break, you may shatter the vase, if you With the tears that were past controlling ;

will, We vowed we would never, no, never forget;

But the scent of the roses will hang round it still. And those vows at the time were consoling;

SIR THOMAS WYATT.

wear.

THOMAS MOORE,

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