She raised his hand. "What hand like this

Could reach the heart athwart the lyre? What lips like these return my kiss,

Or breathe, incessant, soft desire ?"

From eve to morn, from morn to eve,
She gazed his features o'er and o'er,
And those who love and who believe,
May hear her sigh along the shore.

W. S. LANDOR.

Inde levans dextram, "Num par," ait, "illius un

quam

Perveniet tacta cordis ad ima lyra?

"Talibus aut quisquam mihi dividet oscula labris, "Dum tenerum id numquam dicere cessat, Amo?"

Jamque dies nocti subit altera, noxque diei,
At sedet, at vultum perlegit illa viri.

Illam, si quis amans et non incredulus idem est,
Audiat ut circa litus anhelet adhuc.

T

WEEP NO MORE.

WEEP no more, nor sigh, nor groan;
Sorrow calls no time that's gone;

Violets plucked, the sweetest rain
Makes not fresh nor grow again:
Trim thy locks, look cheerfully;
Fates hidden ends eyes cannot see:
Joys as winged dreams fly fast ;
Why should sadness longer last?
Grief is but a wound to woe;

Gentlest fair, mourn, mourn no mo.

FLETCHER.

"Ne doleas plus nimio.”

FLENDI jam satis, et satis gemendi.
Nec tempus lacrymis vocaris actum,
Carptis nec violis benigna quamvis
Nasci dat pluvia ac virere rursum.
Quin crines colis explicasque vultum?
Fati cæca nefas videre nobis.
Somni par fugit alitis voluptas:
Quidni tristitiæ modus sit idem?
Fletu nil nisi prorogas dolorem.
Sat, dulcissima Philli, sat dolendi.

GLUMDALITCH'S LAMENT.

WHY did I trust thee with that giddy youth?
Who from a page can ever learn the truth?
Versed in court-tricks, that money-loving boy
To some lord's daughter sold the living toy;
Or rent him limb from limb in cruel play,
As children tear the wings of flies away.
From place to place o'er Brobdingnag I'll roam,
And never will return, or bring thee home.
But who hath eyes to trace the passing wind?
How these thy fairy footsteps can I find?
Dost thou bewilder'd wander all alone

In the green thicket of a mossy stone;

Or, tumbled from the toadstool's slippery round,
Perhaps, all maim'd, lie groveling on the ground?
Dost thou, embosom'd in the lovely rose,
Or sunk, within the peach's down, repose?
Within the kingcup if thy limbs are spread,
Or in the golden cowslip's velvet head,