No vital chord nor troubled what she loved, To teach the young idea how to shoot,
Philosophy inight look her in the face,

To pour the fresh instruction o'er the mind, And, like a hermit stooping to the well

To breathe the enlivening spirit, and to fix That yields him sweet refreshment, might therein The generous purpose in the glowing breast. See but his own serenity reflected

O, speak the joy! ye whom the sudden tear With a more heavenly tenderness of hue ! Surprises often, while you look around, Yet whilst the world's ambitious empty cares, And nothing strikes your eye but sights of bliss, Its small disqiietudes and insect stings, All various nature pressing on the heart ; Disturbed her never, she was one made up An elegant sufficiency, content, Of feminine affections, and her life

Retirement, rural quiet, friendship, books,
Was one full stream of love from fount to sea. Ease and alternate labor, useful life,

Progressive virtue, and approving Heaven.
These are the matchless joys of virtuous love;

And thus their moments fly. The Seasons thus

As ceaseless round a jarring world they roll,

Still find them happy; and consenting Spring The world goes up and the world goes down, Sheds her own rosy garland on their heads; And the sunshine follows the rain ;

Till evening comes at last, serene and mild ; And yesterday's sneer, and yesterday's frown, When after the long vernal day of life, Can never come over again,

Enamored more, as more remembrance spells Sweet wife,

With many a proof of recollected love, No, never cone over again.

Together down they sink in social sleep;

Together freed, their gentle spirits fly For woman is warm, though man be cold,

To scenes where love and bliss immortal reign. And the night will hallow the day ;

JAMES THOMSON Till the heart which at even was weary and old (an rise in the morning gay, Sweet wife,

FRAGMENTS. To its work in the morning gay.


Why don't the men propose, mamma,

Why don't the men propose ?

Why don't the men propose ?
But happy they! the happiest of their kind !
Whom gentler stars unite, and in one fate

Their hearts, their fortunes, and their beings

This house is to be let for life or years ; 'T is not the coarser tie of human laws,

Her rent is sorrow, and her income tears ; Unnatural oft, and foreign to the mind,

Cupid, 't has long stood void ; her bills makThat binds their peace, but harmony itself,

known, Attuning all their passions into love ;

She must be dearly let, or let alone. Where friendship full-exerts her softest power,

Emblems, Book ii. 10.

F. QUARLES Perfect esteem enlivened by desire Ineffable, and sympathy of soul ;

Look ere thou leap, see ere thou go. Thought meeting thought, and will preventing

OS Wiving and Thriving. will, With boundless confidence : for naught but love Thus grief still treads upon the heels of pleasure : (an answer love, and render bliss secure.

Married in haste, we may repent at leisure.
Meantime a smiling offspring rises round,
And mingles both their graces. By degrees,
The human blossom blows ; and every day,

Men are April when they woo, December wher Soft as it rolls along, shows some new charın,

they wed. The father's lustre and the mother's bloom.

As You Like It, Act iv, Sc. I.
Then infant reason grows apace, and calls And oft the careless find it to their cost,
For the kind hand of an assiduous care.

The lover in the husband may be lost.
Delightful task ! to rear the tender thought,

Advice to a Lady,



T. H. BAYI..


The Old Bachelor, Act v. Sc. I.



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Eloisa to Abelard.




Abroad too kind, at home 't is steadfast hate,
And one eternal tempest of debate.

My latest found, Love of Fame.

E. YOUNG. Heaven's last best gift, my ever new delight.

Paradise Lost, Book v.
Curse on all laws but those which love has made.
Love, free as air, at sight of human ties,

She is mine own !
Spreads his light wings, and in a moment flies.

And I as rich in having such a jewel
As twenty seas, it all their sand were pearl,

The water nectar, and the rocks pure gold.

Two Gent. of Verona, Act ii. Sc. 4
The kindest and the happiest pair
Will find occasion to forbear;

How much the wife is dearer than the bride.

An Irregular Ode.
And something every day they live
To pity and perhaps forgive.

Cowper. Time still, as he flies, brings increase to her truth,

And gives to her mind what he steals from her


The Happy Marriage.
Hisses! the tale that I relate
This lesson seems to carry,

And when with envy Time, transported,
Choose not alone a proper mate,

Shall think to rob us of our joys, But proper time to marry.

You'll in your girls again he courted, Pairing Time Anticipated.

And I'll go wooing in my boys.

Let still the woman take
An elder than herself: so wears she to him,

True love is but a humble, low-born thing,
So sways she level in her husband's heart,

And hath its food served up in earthen ware ; For, boy, however we do praise ourselves,

It is a thing to walk with, hand in hand, Our fancies are more giddy and unfirm,

Through the every-dayness of this work-day More longing, wavering, sooner lost and won,

world. Than women's are.

Mutual Forbearance.




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MY WIFE'S A WINSOME WEE THING. , But rather raised to be a nobler man,

And more divine in my humanity,
She is a winsome wee thing,

As knowing that the waiting eyes which scan
She is a handsome wee thing,

My life are lighted by a purer being,
She is a bonnie wee thing,

And ask meek, calm-browed deeds, with it agree.
This sweet wee wife o' mine.

I never saw a fairer,
I never lo'ed a dearer,

Our love is not a fading, earthly flower:
And neist my heart I 'll wear her, Its winged seed dropped down from Paraulise,
For fear my jewel tine.

And, nursed by day and night, by sun and

She is a winsome wee thing,

Doth momently to fresher beanty rise :
She is a handsome wee thing,

To us the leafless autumn is not hare,
She is a bonnie wee thing,

Nor winter's rattling boughs lack lusty green.
This sweet wee wife o' mine.

Our summer hearts make summer's fulness, where The warld's wrack we share o't,

No leaf, or bud, or blossom may be seen:

For nature's like in love's deep life doth lie,
The warstle and the care o't:

Love, whose forgetfulness is lanty's death,
Wi' her I'll blythely bear it,

Whose mystic key these cells of Thou and I
And think my lot divine.

Into the infinite freedom openeth,
And makes the body's dark and narrow grate

The wind-flung leaves of Heave:'s Palace-gate.
My Love, I have no fear that thou shouldst die; Joy's wreath drooped o’er mine eyes ; I could not

I thought our love at full, but I did err;
Albeit I ask no fairer life than this,
Whose numbering-clock is still thy gentle kiss,
While Time and Peace with hands unlocked fly,-

That sorrow in our happy world inust be
Yet care I not where in Eternity

Love's deepest spokesman and interpreter.

But, as a mother feels her child first stir
We live and love, well knowing that there is
No backward step for those who feel the bliss

Luder her heart, so felt I instantly
Of Faith as their most lofty yearnings high :

Deep in my soul another bond to thee Love hath so purified my being's core,

Thrill with that life we saw depart from her ; Meseems I scarcely should be startled, even,

O mother of our angel child ! twice dear! To find, some morn, that thou hadst

Death knits as well as parts, and still, I wis,

gone before; Since, with thy love, this knowledge too was

Her tender radiance shall infold us here, given,

Even as the light, borne up by inward bliss, Which each calın day doth strengthen more and Threads the void glooms of space without a fear,

To print on farthest stars her pitying kiss. more,

JAMES RUSSELL LOWELL That they who love are but one step from Heaven.





I Cannot think that thou shouldst pass away,
Whose life to mine is an eternal law,
A piece of nature that can have no flaw,
A new and certain sunrise every day ;
But, if thou art to be another ray
About the Sun of Life, and art to live
Free from all of thee that was fugitive,
The debt of Love I will more fully pay,
Not downcast with the thought of thee so high,

O FAIREST of creation, last and best
Of all God's works, creature in whom excelled
Whatever can to sight or thought be formed,
Holy, divine, good, amiable, or sweet!
How art thou lost, how on a sudden lost,
Defaced, deflowered, and now to death devote'
Rather, how hast thou yielded to transgress

“Why, that,” she said, “is no reason. Love's

always free, I am told. Will you vow to be safe from the headache on

Tuesday, and think it will hold ?”

The strict forbiddance, how to violate
The sacred fruit forbidden! Some cursed fraud
Of enemy hath beguiled thee, yet unknown,
And me with thee hath ruined, for with thee
Certain my resolution is to die.
How can I live without thee, how forego
Thy sweet converse, and love so dearly joined,
To live again in these wild woods forlorn ?
Should God create another Eve, and I
Another rib afford, yet loss of thee
Would never from my heart, no, no, I feel
The link of nature draw me; flesh of flesh,
Bone of my bone thou art, and from thy state
Mine never shall be parted, bliss or woe.

“But you,” he replied, “have a daughter, a

young little child, who was laid In your lap to be pure ; so I leave you : the

angels would make me afraid."

“O, that," she said, “is no reason. The angels

keep out of the way ; And Dora, the child, observes nothing, althongh

you should please me and stay." At which he rose up in his anger, “Why

now, you no longer are fair!
Why, now, you no longer are fatal, but ugly and

hateful, I swear.”
At which she laughed out in her scorn,

" These
men ! O, these men overnice,
Who are shocked if a color not virtuous is

frankly put on by a vice.”

However, I with thee have fixed my lot,
Certain to undergo like doom ; if death
Consort with thee, death is to me as life;
So forcible within my heart I feel
The bond of nature draw me to my own,
My own in thee, for what thou art is mine ;
Our state cannot be severed, we are one,
One flesh ; to lose thee were to lose myself.

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Her eyes blazed upon him — “And you! You

bring us your vices so near That we smell them ! you think in our presence

a thought 't would defame us to hear !


“But why do you go?" said the lady, while

“What reason had you, and what right. I both sate under the yew,

appeal to your soul from my life, And her eyes were alive in their depth, as the To find me too fair as a woman? Why, sir, I kraken beneath the sea-blue.

am pure, and a wife. “Because I fear you,” he answered ; because

“Is the day-star too fair up above you ? It

burns you not. Dare you imply you are far too fair, And able to strangle my soul in a mesh of your

I brushed you more close than the star does,

when Walter had set me as high ? gold-colored hair.

“ If a man finds a woman too fair, he means “O, that,” she said, “is no reason ! Such knots

simply adapted too much are quickly undone,

To uses unlawful and fatal. The praise !-- shall And too much beauty, I reckon, is nothing but too much sun.'

I thank you for such ?

Too fair ? — not unless you misuse us! and :6 Yet farewell so,” he answered ; - "the sun.

surely if, once in a while, stroke's fatal at times.

You attain to it, straightway you call us no I value your husband, Lord Walter, whose gallop

longer too fair, but too vile. rings still from the limes."

A inoment,

I pray your attention !—I have :0, that,” she said, “is no reason. You smell a

a poor word in my head rose through a fence :

I must utter, though womanly custom would set If two should smell it, what matter? who grum

it down better unsaid. bles, and where's the pretence ?” “But I," he replied, “have promised another, “You grew, sir, pale to impertinence, once when when love wis free,

I showed you a ring. To love her alone, alone, who alone and afar loves You kissed my fan when I dropped it. No mat.

ter! I've broken the thing.


“You did me the honor, perhaps, to be moved | And all stood back, and none my right denied, at iny side now and then

And forth we walked : the world was free and wide In the senses, - a vice, I have heard), which is Before us. - Since that day common to beasts and some men.

I count my life: the Past is washed away.


“Love's a virtue for heroes ! - as white as the It was no dream, that vow : snow on high hills,

It was the voice that woke me from a dream, And immortal as every great soul is that strug- A happy dream, I think ; but I am waking now, gles, endures, and fulfills.

And drink the splendor of a sun supreme

That turns the mist of former tears to gold “I love my Walter profoundly, - you, Maude, Within these arms I hold thongh you faltered a week,

The fleeting promise, chased so long in vain : For the sake of . . . what was it? an eyebrow' ? Ah, weary bird ! thou wilt not fly again : or, less still, a mole on a cheek ?

Thy wings are clipped, thou canst no more de

part, "And since, when all's said, you 're too noble to Thy nest is builled in heart !

stoop to the frivolous cant About crimes irresistible, virtues that swindle, I was the crescent; thou betray, and supplant,

The silver phantom of the perfect sphere,

Held in its bosom: in one glory now “I determined to prove to yourself that, what. Our lives united shine, and many a yeare'er you might dream or avow

Not the sweet moon of bridal only — We By illusion, you wanted precisely no more of me One lustre, ever at the full, shall be : than you have now.

One pure and rounded light, one planet whole,

One lise developed, one completed soul ! “There! Look me full in the face !-- in the For I in thee, and thou in me, face. Understand, if you can,

Unite our cloven halves of destiny. That the eyes of such women as I am are clean as the palm of a man.

God knew his chosen time.

He bade me slowly ripen to my prime, "Drop his hand, you insult him. Avoid us for And from my boughs withheld the promised fruit fear we should cost you a scar,

Till storm and sun gave vigor to the root. You take us for harlots, I tell you, and not for Secure, O Love ! secure the women we are.

Thy blessing is : I have thee day and night:

Thou art become my blood, my life, my light: You wronged me : but then I considered ... God's mercy thou, and therefore shalt endure.

there's Walter ! Avd so at the end, I vowed that he should not be mulcted, by me, in the hand of a friend.

THE DAY RETURNS, MY BOSOM BURSS. “Have I hurt you indeed! We are quits then.

Tue day returns, my bosom burns,
Nay, friend of my Walter, be mine!

The blissful day we twa did meel ;
Come, Dora, my darling, my angel, and help me

Though winter will in tempest toiled,
to ask him to dine."

Ne'er summer sun was half sae sweet.
ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING. Than a' the pride that loads the tide,

And crosses o'er the sultry line,
Than kingly robes, and crowns and glohes,

Heaven gave me more ; it made thee mine.


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