ST. PETER'S AT ROME.

Vastness which grows, but grows to harmonize,

All musical in its immensities;

A LADY'S CHAMBER.

The moon shines dim in the open air, And not a moonbeam enters here.

The chamber carved so curiously,

The lamp with twofold silver chain

The silver lamp burns dead and dim;
But Christabel the lamp will trim.
She trimmed the lamp, and made it bright,
And left it swinging to and fro,
While Geraldine, in wretched plight,
Sank down upon the floor below.

In This, I fondly hoped to class, A Friend whom Dealk alone could sever

But I'm my Has torn thee from my

Brost forever

THIS only grant me, that my means may lie
Too low for envy, for contempt too high.
Some honor I would have,

Not from great deeds, but good alone;
The unknown are better than ill known:

Rumor can ope the grave.
Acquaintance I would have, but when 't depends
Not on the number, but the choice, of friends.

Books should, not business, entertain the light, And sleep, as undisturbed as death, the night. My house a cottage more

Than palace; and should fitting be

For all my use, no luxury.

My garden painted o'er

'Tis much immortal beauty to admire,
But more immortal beauty to withstand;
The perfect soul can overcome desire,
If beauty with divine delight be scanned.
For what is beauty but the blooming child
Of fair Olympus, that in night must end,
And be forever from that bliss exiled,
If admiration stand too much its friend?
The wind may be enamored of a flower,
The ocean of the green and laughing shore,
The silver lightning of a lofty tower,

But must not with too near a love adore;
Or flower and margin and cloud-capped tower
Love and delight shall with delight devour!

LORD EDWARD THURLOW.

BEAUTY.

FROM "HYMN IN HONOR OF BEAUTY."

So every spirit, as it is most pure,
And hath in it the more of heavenly light,
So it the fairer body doth procure
To habit in, and it more fairly dight
With cheerful grace and amiable sight;
For of the soul the body form doth take;
For soul is form, and doth the body make.

Therefore wherever that thou dost behold
A comely corpse, with beauty fair endued,
Know this for certain, that the same doth hold
A beauteous soul, with fair conditions thewed,
Fit to receive the seed of virtue strewed;
For all that fair is, is by nature good;
That is a sign to know the gentle blood.

Yet oft it falls that many a gentle mind

yield,

Horace might envy in his Sabine field.

This is frequently attributed to William Byrd. Bartlett, how ever, gives it to Sir Edward Dyer, referring to Hannah's Courtly Poets as authority; so, also, Ward, in his English Poets, Vol. I, 1880.

Either by chance, against the course of kind, Or through unaptnesse in the substance found, Which it assumed of some stubborne ground, That will not yield unto her form's direction, But is performed with some foul imperfection.