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Guard well thy soul, beloved;

Truth, dwelling there,
Shall shadow forth, beloved,
Her image rare.

Then shall I deem, beloved,
That thou art she;

And there'll be naught, beloved,
Fairer than thee.

ANONYMOUS.

HER LIKENESS.

A GIRL, who has so many wilful ways

She would have caused Job's patience to for sake him ;

Yet is so rich in all that's girlhood's praise,
Did Job himself upon her goodness gaze,

A little better she would surely make him.
Yet is this girl I sing in naught uncommon,
And very far from angel yet, I trow.
Her faults, her sweetnesses, are purely human ;
Yet she's more lovable as simple woman
Than any one diviner that I know.
Therefore I wish that she may safely keep

This womanhede, and change not, only grow; From maid to matron, youth to age, may creep, And in perennial blessedness, still reap

On every hand of that which she doth sow.

DINAH MARIA MULOCK.

BLACK AND BLUE EYES.

THE brilliant black eye

May in triumph let fly

All its darts without caring who feels 'em ; But the soft eye of blue,

Though it scatter wounds too,

Is much better pleased when it heals 'em!
Dear Fanny!

The black eye may say,
"Come and worship my ray;

By adoring, perhaps you may move me!"
But the blue eye, half hid,

Says, from under its lid,

"I love, and am yours, if you love me !" Dear Fanny!

Then tell me, O why,

In that lovely blue eye,

Not a charm of its tint I discover;

Or why should you wear

The only blue pair

That ever said "No" to a lover?

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For while thus it pouts, her fingers wrestle, Twinkling the audacious leaves between, Till round they turn, and down they nestle : Is not the dear mark still to be seen?

Where I find her not, beauties vanish;
Whither I follow her, beauties flee.

Is there no method to tell her in Spanish

June's twice June since she breathed it with me? Come, bud! show me the least of her traces. Treasure my lady's lightest footfall: Ah! you may flout and turn up your faces, Roses, you are not so fair after all!

ROBERT BROWNING.

ON A GIRDLE.

THAT which her slender waist confined
Shall now my joyful temples bind;
No monarch but would give his crown,
His arms might do what this hath done.

It was my heaven's extremest sphere, The pale which held that lovely deer: My joy, my grief, my hope, my love, Did all within this circle move.

A narrow compass! and yet there
Dwelt all that's good, and all that's fair.
Give me but what this ribbon bound,
Take all the rest the sun goes round!

EDMUND WALLER.

THE FLOWER O' DUMBLANE. THE sun has gane down o'er the lofty Ben Lomond, And left the red clouds to preside o'er the scene, While lanely I stray in the calm summergloamin', To muse on sweet Jessie, the Flower o' Dumblane.

How sweet is the brier, wi' its saft fauldin' blossom, And sweet is the birk, wi' its mantle o' green; Yet sweeter and fairer, and dear to this bosom, Is lovely young Jessie, the Flower o' Dumblane. She's modest as ony, and blithe as she 's bonnie, For guileless simplicity marks her its ain ; And far be the villain, divested of feeling, Wha'd blight in its bloom the sweet Flower o' Dumblane.

Sing on, thou sweet mavis, thy hymn to the e'ening! !

Thou 'rt dear to the echoes of Calderwood glen: Sae dear to this bosom, sae artless and winning,

Is charming young Jessie, the Flower o' Dumblane.

How lost were my days till I met wi' my Jessie! The sports o' the city seemed foolish and vain ; I ne'er saw a nymph I would ca' my dear lassie Till charmed wi' sweet Jessie, the Flower o' Dumblane.

Though mine were the station o' loftiest grandeur, Amidst its profusion I'd languish in pain, And reckon as naething the height o' its splendor, If wanting sweet Jessie, the Flower o' Dumblane.

ROBERT TANNAHILL.

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O, SAW YE THE LASS?

O, SAW ye the lass wi' the bonny blue een?
Her smile is the sweetest that ever was seen;
Her cheek like the rose is, but fresher, I ween,
She's the loveliest lassie that trips on the green.
The home of my love is below in the valley,
Where wild-flowers welcome the wandering bee;
But the sweetest of flowers in that spot that is seen
Is the maid that I love wi' the bonny blue een.

When night overshadows her cot in the glen,
She'll steal out to meet her loved Donald again;
And when the moon shines on the valley so green,
I'll welcome the lass wi' the bonny blue een.
As the dove that has wandered away from his nest
Returns to the mate his fond heart loves the best,
I'll fly from the world's false and vanishing scene,
To my dear one, the lass wi' the bonny blue een.

RICHARD RYAN.

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