She wept with pity and delight,

She blush'd with love, and virgin-shame;

And like the murmur of a dream,
I heard her breathe my name.

Her bosom heaved—she stepp'd aside,

As conscious of my look she stepp'd

Then suddenly, with timorous eye
She fled to me and wept.

She half enclosed me with her arms,

She press'd me with a meek embrace;

And bending back her head, looked up, And gazed upon my face.

T was partly Love, and partly Fear,

And partly "t was a bashful art,

That I might rather feel, than see, The swelling of her heart.

I calm'd her fears, and she was calm,

And told her love with virgin pride;

And so I won my Genevieve,
My bright and beauteous Bride.

DUTY SURVIVING SELF-LovE, The ONLY SURE FRIEND of DECLINING LIFE. A soliloquy.

Unchanged within to see all changed without,
Is a blank lot and hard to bear, no doubt.
set why at others' wanings shouldst thou fret”
Then only mightst thou feel a just regret,
Hadst thou withheld thy love or hid thy light
In selfish forethought of neglect and slight.
O wiselier then, from feeble yearnings freed,
While, and on whom, thou mayst—shine on nor heed
whether the object by reflected light
Return thy radiance or absorb it quite:
And though thou notest from thy safe recess
Old Friends burn dim, like lamps in noisome air,
Love them for what they are: nor love them less,
Because to thee they are not what they were.

PHANTOM OR FACT * A dialogue in verse.

Autho R. A lovely form there sate beside my bed, And such a feeding calm its presence shed, A tender love so pure from earthly leaven That I unnethe the fancy might control, T was my own spirit newly come from heaven Wooing its gentle way into my soul! But ah! the change—it had not stirr'd, and yet— Alas! that change how fain would I forget? That shrinking back, like one that had mistook' That weary, wandering, disavowing Look! "T was all another, feature, look, and frame, And still, methought, I knew it was the same!

Fairno. This riddling tale, to what does it belong? Is’t historyl vision? or an idle song?

Or rather say at once, within what space
Of time this wild disastrous change took place?

Authort. Call it a moment's work (and such it seems), This tale's a fragment from the life of dreams; But say, that years matured the silent strife, And "t is a record from the dream of life.

WORK WITHOUT HOPE.

LINEs coviposed 2 1st FEBRUARY, 1827. All Nature seems at work. Stags leave their lair— The bees are stirring—birds are on the wing— And Winter, slumbering in the open air, Wears on his smiling face a dream of Spring! And I, the while, the sole unbusy thing, Nor honey make, nor pair, nor build, nor sing.

Yet well I ken the banks where amaranths blow,
Have traced the fount whence streams of nectar flow.
Bloom, O ye amaranths! bloom for whom ye may,
For me ye bloom not Glide, rich streams, away!
With lips unbrighten'd, wreathless brow, I stroll:
And would you learn the spells that drowse my soul?
Work without hope draws nectar in a sieve,
And hope without an object cannot live.

YOUTH AND AGE.

VERse, a breeze 'mid blossoms straying,
Where Hope clung feeding, like a bee—
Both were mine ! Life went a maying
With Nature, Hope, and Poesy,
When I was young!
When I was young 2—Ah, woful when
Ah for the change 'twixt now and then!
This breathing house not built with hands,
This body that does me grievous wrong,
O'er aery cliffs and glittering sands,
How lightly then it flash'd along —
Like those trim skiffs, unknown of yore,
On winding lakes and rivers wide,
That ask no aid of sail or oar,
That fear no spite of wind or tide :
Nought cared this body for wind or weather,
When Youth and I lived in "t together.

Flowers are lovely; Love is flower-like;
Friendship is a sheltering tree;
O the joys, that came down shower-like,
Of Friendship, Love, and Liberty,
Ere I was old !
Ere I was old? Ah woful Ere,
Which tells me, Youth 's no longer here!
O Youth for years so many and sweet,
"T is known, that thou and I were one,
I'll think it but a fond conceit—
It cannot be, that thou art gone!
Thy vesper-bell hath not yet toll'd :-
And thou wert aye a masker bold!
What strange disguise hast now put on,
To make believe that thou art gone?
I see these locks in silvery slips,
This drooping gait, this alter'd size:

The allegory here is so apt, that in a catalogue of various reatings obtained from collating the MSS. one might expect to find it noted, that for . Lirr - Cod, quid habent, . Trans.: Though indeed rar on, or, i. e. the billiopolic, so called zot's; 22av. may be regarded as Love sensa eminentiori; a suggestion, which I owe to a young retailer in the hosiery line, who on hearing a description of the net profits, dinner parties, country houses, etc. of the trade, exclaimed, . Ay! that 's what I call Live now -This - Life, our Death, - is thus happily contrasted with the fruits of Authorship.–Sic nos non nobis inelliticamus Apes.

Of this poem, with which the Fire, Famine and Slaughter first appeared in the Morning Post, the three first stan, as, which are worth all the rest, and the ninth. were dictated by Mr Southey. Between the ninth and the concluding stanza, two or three are omitted as grounded on subjects that have lost their interest—and for letter reasons,

If any one should ask, who General — meant, the Author begs leave to inform him, that he did once see a red-faced person in a dreau, whom by the dress he took for a General; but he might have

CONSTANCY TO AN IDEAL OBJECT.

Since all, that beat about in Nature's range,
Or veer or vanish, why shouldst thou remain
The only constant in a world of change—
O yearning thought, that livest but in the brain?
Call to the hours, that in the distance play,
The facry people of the future day——
Fond thought ! not one of all that shining swarm
Will breathe on thee with life-enkindling breath,
Till when, like strangers shelt'ring from a storm,
Hope and Despair meet in the porch of Death!
Yet still thou haunt'st me; and though well I see,
She is not thou, and only thou art she,
Still, still as though some dear embodied good,
Some living love before my eyes there stood,
With answering look a ready ear to lend,
1 mourn to thee and say—. Ah! loveliest friend!
That this the meed of all my toils might be,
To have a home, an English home and thee!
Vain repetition! Home and thou are one.
The peacefull'st cot the moon shall shine upon,
Lull'd by the thrush and waken'd by the lark,
Without thee were but a becalmed Bark,
Whose helmsman on an ocean waste and wide
Sits mute and pale his mouldering helm beside.

And art thou nothing? Such thou art, as when
The woodman winding westward up the glen
At wintry dawn, where o'er the sheep-track's maze
The viewless snow-mist weaves a glist'ning haze,
Sees full before him, gliding without tread,
An image with a glory round its head;
The enamour'd rustic worships its fair hues,
Nor knows, he makes the shadow he pursues!

THE SUICiDE'S ARGUMENT.

Ere the birth of my life, if I wish'd it or no

No question was ask'd me—it could not be so : If the life was the question, a thing sent to try, And to live on be Yks; what can No be? to die.

NATURE's ANswer. Is’t return’d as 't was sent? Is 't no worse for the wear? Think first, what you Ane! Call to mind what you were! I gave you innocence, I gave you hope, Gave health, and genius, and an ample scope. Return you me guilt, lethargy, despair? Make out the Inventry; inspect, compare! Then die—if die you dare!

been mistaken, and most certainly he did not hear any names mentioned. In simple verity, the Auther never meant any one, or indeed any thins, but to put a concluding stanza to his do el. ' This phenomenon, which the Author has himself experienced, and of which the reader may find a description in one of the earlier volumes of the Manchester Philosophical Transactions, is applied figuratively in the following passage of the Aids to Reflection : - Pindar's fine remark respecting the different effects of music, on different characters, holds equally true of Genius: as many as are not delighted by it are disturbed, perplexed, irritated. The beholder either recognizes it as a projected form of his own Being.

that moves before him with a Glory round its head, or recoils from it

as a spectre. --Aids to Reflection, p. 229.

But why thy brow o'ercast, thy cheek so want
Thou look'st as a lorn maid beside some stream
That sighs away the soul in fond despairing,
While sorrow sad, like the dank willow near her,
Hangs o'er the troubled fountain of her eye.
A de L.A. i de.
Ah! rather let me ask what mystery lowers
On Tallien's darken'd brow. Thou dost me wrong—
Thy soul distemperd, can my heart be tranquilt
TALLI en.
Tell me, by whom thy brother's blood was spilt?
Asks he not vengeance on these patriot murderers?
It has been borne too tamely. Fears and curses
Groan on our midnight beds, and e'en our dreams
Threaten the assassin hand of Robespierre.
He dies!—nor has the plot escaped his fears.
A del Aide.
Yet—yet—be cautious! much I fear the Commune—
The tyrant's creatures, and their fate with his
Fast link'd in close indissoluble union.
The Pale Convention—
tA LLI en.
Hate him as they fear him,
Impatient of the chain, resolved and ready.
A DE LA 1 de.
Th' enthusiast mob, confusion's lawless sons—
TAllien.
They are aweary of his stern morality,
The fair-mask'd offspring of ferocious pride.
The sections too support the delegates:
All—all is ours! e'en now the vital air
Of Liberty, condensed awhile, is bursting
(Force irresistible') from its compressure—
To shatter the arch-chemist in the explosion

Enter Bill AuD WARENNEs and Boum Dox l’Oise. [Adelaids retires.

hour Don L'oise. Tallien' was this a time for amorous conference 2 Henriot, the tyrant's most devoted creature, Marshals the force of Paris: The fierce club, With Vivier at their head, in loud acclaim Have sworn to make the guillotine in blood Float on the scaffold.—But who comes here?

Enter BAhnene abruptly.

to A at Ear. Say, are ye friends to freedom I am her’s' Let us, forgetful of all common feuds, Rally around her shrine! Een now the tyrant Concerts a plan of instant massacre! pillau in wa Rennes. Away to the Convention with that voice So oft the herald of glad victory, Rouse their fallen spirits, thunder in their ears The names of tyrant, plunderer, assassin! The violent workings of my soul within Anticipate the monster's blood! [Cry from the street of “No Tyrant! the Tyrant 'n tAllien. Hear ye that outcry?—If the trembling members Even for a moment hold his fate suspended, I swear, by the holy poniard that stabbed Caesar, This dagger probes his heart!

[Exeunt omnes.

- ACT II. SCENE. – The Convention.

Robespienne (mounts the Tribune). Once more befits it that the voice of truth, Fearless in innocence, though leaguer'd round By envy and her hateful brood of hell, Be heard amid this hall; once more befits The patriot, whose prophetic eye so oft Has pierced through faction's veil, to flash on crimes Of deadliest import. Mouldering in the grave Sleeps Capet's caitiff corse; my daring hand Levell'd to earth his blood-cemented throne, My voice declared his guilt, and stirr'd up France To call for vengeance. I too dug the grave Where sleep the Girondists, detested band Long with the show of freedom they abused Her ardent sons. Long time the well-turn'd phrase, The high franght sentence, and the lofty tone Of declamation, thunder'd in this hall, Till reason inidst a labyrinth of words Perplex'd, in silence seem'd to yield assent. I durst oppose. Soul of my honoured friend! Spirit of Marat, upon thee I call— Thou know'st me faithful, know'st with what warm zeal I urged the cause of justice, stripp'd the mask From faction's deadly visage, and destroy'd Her traitor brood. Whose patriot arm hurl’d down Ilebert and Rousin, and the villain friends Of Danton, foul apostate' those, who lont; Mask'd treason's form in liberty's fair garb,

Long deluged France with blood, and durst defy Omnipotence! but 1, it seeins, am false! I am a traitor too! I–Itobespierre! I—at whose name the dastard despot brood Look pale with fear, and call on saints to help them! Who dares accuse me? who shall dare belie My spotless name? Speak, ye accomplice band, Of what am I accused of what strange crime ls Maximilian Robespierre accused, That through this hall the buzz of discontent Should murmur" who shall speak? Bi LLAud waii Ex Nes. O patriot tongue, Belying the foul heart! Who was it urged, Friendly to tyrants, that accurst decree Whose influence brooding o'er this hallow'd hall, Has chill'd each tongue to silence. Who destroy'd, The freedom of debate, and carried through The fatal law, that doom'd the delegates, Unheard before their equals, to the bar Where cruelty sat throned, and murder reign'd With her Dumas co-equal? Say—thou man Of mighty eloqueuce, whose law was that? courth ox. That law was mine. I urged it—I proposed— The voice of France assembled in her sons Assented, though the tame and timid voice Of traitors murmur'd. I advised that law— I justify it. It was wise and good. b A R RE fift. Oh, wonderous wise, and most convenient too! I have long mark'd thee, Robespierre—and now Proclaim thee traitor-tyrant! [Loud applauses. hobespi ER RE. It is well. I am a traitor! oh, that I had fallen When Regnault lifted high the murderous knife; Retinault, the instrument belike of those Wino now themselves would fain assassinate, And legalize their murders. I stand here An isolated patriot–hemmed around By faction's noisy pack; beset and bay'd By the foul hell-hounds who know no escape From justice' outstretch'd arm, but by the force That pierces through her breast. [Murmurs, and shouts of Down with the tyrant! Rob Espi En to e. Nay, but I will be heard. There was a time, When Robespierre began, the loud applauses Of honest patriots drown'd the honest sound. But times are changed, and villany prevails. collor D'Het Bois. No—villany shall fall. France could not brook '' A monarch's sway—sounds the dictator's name More soothing to her ear? boundon l'oise. Rattle her chains More musically now than when the hand Of torissot forged her fetters, or the crew Of Hebert thundered out their blasphemies, And Danton talk'd of virtue: rto Bespie it to E. Oh, that Brissot were here again to thunder in this hall. That Hebert lived, and Danton's giant form

Scowl'd once again defiance! so my soul
Might cope with worthy foes.
People of France,
Hear me! Beneath the vengeance of the law,
Traitors have perish'd countless; more survive:
The hydra-headed faction lifts anew
Her daring front, and fruitful from her wounds,
Cautious from past defects, contrives new wiles
Against the sons of Freedom.
TALLIEn.
Freedom lives!
Oppression falls—for France has felt her chains,
Has burst them too. Who traitor-like stept forth
Amid the hall of Jacobins to save
Camille Desmoulins, and the venal wretch
D'Eglantine? . * i
robespi Eftf. E.
I did—for I thought them honest.
And Heaven forefend that vengeance ere should strike,
Ere justice doom'd the blow.
BARRER r.
Traitor, thou didst.
Yes, the accomplice of their dark designs,
Awhile didst thou defend them, when the storm
Lower'd at safe distance.When the clouds frown'd darker,
Fear'd for yourself and left them to their fate.
Oh, I have mark'd thee long, and through the veil
Seen thy foul projects. Yes, ambitious man,
Self-will'd dictator o'er the realm of France,
The vengeance thou hast plann'd for patriots,
Falls on thy head. Look how thy brother's deeds
Dishonour thine ! He the firm patriot,
Thou the foul parricide of Liberty!
Rob Espi En he Junio R.
Barrere—attempt not meanly to divide
Me from my brother. I partake his guilt,
For I partake his virtue.
Rob Espiraft e.
Irother, by my soul,
More dear I hold thee to my heart, that thus
With me thou darest to tread the dangerous path
Of virtue, than that nature twined her cords
Of kindred round us.
pA R RER E.
Yes, allied in guilt,
Even as in blood ye are. Oh, thou worst wretch,
Thou worse than Sylla hast thou not proscribed,
Yea, in most foul anticipation slaughter'd,
Each patriot representative of France?
Bourdon L'oise.
Was not the younger Cesar too to reign
O'er all our valiant armies in the south,
And still continue there his merchant wiles?
Rob Es Pikhae Junior.
His merchant wiles! Oh, grant me patience, Heaven?
Was it by merchant wiles I gain'd you back
Toulon, when proudly on her captive towers
Waved high the English flat; 1 or fought I then
With merchant wiles, when sword in hand I led
Your troops to conquest? fought I merchant-like,
Or barter'd I for victory, when death
Strode oer the reeking streets with giant stride,
And shook his ebon plumes, and sternly smiled
Amid the bloody banquet” when appall'd
The hireling sons of England spread the sail