THE VANITY OF EARTHLY LOVE. АH! what avails the fervent boast We make of love's celestial birth, If that which rules the heavenly host O'er all the vast Elysian fields It reigns with uncorrupted sway, And in its fair dominion yields The glories of an endless day. But living man beholds in vain The fleeting beauties as they rise, If here he fondly seek to gain The glowing transport of the skies. For when his fancy paints the bliss Still opening to his ravished view, A more inviting scene than this Shall yet his vacant wants renew. Alternate springs of hope and fear Will rise to feed or quench the flame, And all his glittering proud career Will earn him but a transient fame. Indulgence will provoke the smart Inflicted on his anxious breast, And leave at length his wounded heart To sink unheeded and unblest. A glimpse of pure, unsullied love Is all that can await us here; The fountain is reserved above, To light us to that heavenly sphere ! THE STORY WITHOUT AN END. [These Stanzas were written in a design to render into English verse, from the German prose of Carové, "Das Märchen ohne Ende." But after completing the first chapter*, a doubt occurred to me whether the story would receive any additional interest from the fascination of rhyme; and being yet undecided on the question, I have hesitated to pursue the task.] FICTION asserts that once a Child Inhabited a lonely spot, On which some parent hand had piled The fabric of a humble Cot. Nothing beside a little bed And looking-glass such home contained; But having "where to lay his head," This Child the looking-glass disdained. Soon as the early sunbeam kissed Him, and the Finch and Linnet sang, He rose to hail the ambient mist Through which the welcome greetings rang. * For the original text, the reader is referred to the Notes. He sought the Primrose for its flour- Sugar he gained by equal spell Of Violets, and, in blissful hour, Butter of Buttercups as well. Into the Harebell would he shake From Cowslips honied drops of dew; Then off a leaf of Lime partake The dainties that around him grew. A Humming Bee, and oftener still A Butterfly, became his guest; But following his unbiassed will, The Dragonfly he loved the best. The Bee would in a murmuring tone Tell of the treasures he had heaped ; But were they, thought the Child, his own, He yet should little bliss have reaped. He thought the joy of roaming o'er The scene where lighted incense dwells, Far more inviting than to store The golden honey in silver cells. To this the Butterfly agreed, Observing that he once had held It best on sordid earth to feed, Though heaven the while he ne'er beheld. But afterwards a change occurred Unto him, and he quickly rose To higher glee than when he stirred Not where the Zephyr mildly blows. His happiness was now to play Within a sea of heavenly light, And from his blue-eyed wings convey Fresh lustre to the longing sight: |