And credit her desired regard.
Ah, wasteful woman, she that may
On her sweet self set her own price,
Knowing he cannot choose but pay,
How has she cheapen'd paradise ;
How given for nought her priceless gift,

How spoil'd the bread and spill'd the wine,
Which, spent with due, respective thrift,
Had made brutes men and men divine.

O Queen! awake to thy renown,

Require what 'tis our wealth to give,
And comprehend and wear the crown
Of thy despised prerogative!
I who in manhood's name at length
With glad songs come to abdicate
The gross regality of strength,

Must yet in this thy praise abate,
That through thine erring humbleness
And disregard of thy degree,
Mainly, has man been so much less

Than fits his fellowship with thee.

High thoughts had shaped the foolish brow,
The coward had grasp'd the hero's sword,
The vilest had been great, hadst thou,
Just to thyself, been worth's reward:
But lofty honors, undersold,

Seller and buyer both disgrace;
And favor that makes folly bold
Puts out the light in virtue's face.

Then to my room

I went, and closed and lock'd the door, And cast myself down on my bed,

And there, with many a blissful tear, I vow'd to love and pray'd to wed

The Maiden who had grown so dear; Thank'd God who had set her in my path; And promised, as I hoped to win, I never would sully my faith

By the least selfishness or sin; Whatever in her sight I'd seem

I'd really be; I'd never blend With my delight in her a dream 'Twould change her cheek to comprehend; And, if she wished it, I'd prefer

Another's to my own success; And always seek the best for her With unofficious tenderness.

Rising, I breathed a brighter clime,
And found myself all self above,
And, with a charity sublime,

Contemned not those who did not love; And I could not but feel that then

I shone with something of her grace, And went forth to my fellow men

She was all mildness; yet 'twas writ

Upon her beauty legibly,

"He that's for heaven itself unfit,

Let him not hope to merit me. And such a challenge, quite apart

From thoughts of love, humbled, and thus To sweet repentance moved my heart, And made me more magnanimous, And led me to review my life,

Inquiring where in aught the least,
If question were of her for wife,

Ill might be mended, hope increased:
Not that I soared so far above
Myself, as this great hope to dare:
And yet I half foresaw that love

Might hope where reason would despair.

COVENTRY PATMORE.

A RED, RED ROSE.

Он, my luve's like a red, red rose,
That's newly sprung in June!
Oh, my luve's like the melodie
That's sweetly play'd in tune!

As fair art thou, my bonnie lass,
So deep in luve am I;
And I will luve thee still, my dear,
Till a' the seas gang dry.

Till a' the seas gang dry, my dear,
And the rocks melt wi' the sun,
And I will luve thee still, my dear,

While the sands o' life shall run.

And fare thee weel, my only luve!
And fare thee weel awhile!

And I will come again, my luve,

Tho' it were ten thousand mile.

DRAMA.

ROBERT BURNS.

HE stood beside me.

The embodied vision of the brightest dream,
Which like a dawn heralds the day of life;
The shadow of his presence made my world
A paradise. All familiar things he touched,
All common words he spoke, became to me
Like forms and sounds of a diviner world.
He was as is the sun in his fierce youth,
As terrible and lovely as a tempest;
He came, and went, and left me what I am.
PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY.

THE INDIAN SERENADE.

I ARISE from dreams of thee

In the first sweet sleep of night, When the winds are breathing low, And the stars are shining bright. I arise from dreams of thee,

And a spirit in my feet

Hath led me who knows how?

To the chamber window, sweet!