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Thomas Diedin, born 1771, died 1811.

Young Henry was as brave a youth

As ever graced a martial story;
And Jane was fair as lovely truth;

She sighed for Love, and he for Glory.

With her his faith he meant to plight,

And told her many a gallant story;
Till war their coming joys to blight,

Call'd him away from Love and Glory.

Young Henry met the foe with pride;

Jane followed, fought! ah, hapless story! In man's attire, by Henry's side,

She died for Love, and he for Glory.


From Kenny's Comedy of “Sweethearts and Wives."

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“Tell me,” again the old man said,
" Why are you loit'ring here, fair maid ?"
"The nightingale's song, so sweet and clear,
Father," said she “ I'm come to hear."
“ Fie, fie!” she heard him cry,
" Nightingales all, so people say,
Warble by night, and not by day.

The sage looked grave, the maiden shy,
When Lubin jump'd o'er the style hard by;
The sage look'd graver, the maid more glum,
Lubin, he twiddled his finger and thumb:

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W. T. MONCRIEFF, From Poems privately printed, A.D. 1820.
When, lull'd in passion's dream my senses slept,

How did I act?-e'en as a wayward child;
I smiled with pleasure when I should have wept!

And wept with sorrow when I should have smiled;

When Gracia, beautiful but faithless fair,

Who long in passion's bonds my heart had kept, First with false blushes pitied my despair,

I smiled with pleasure !-should I not have wept?

And when, to gratify some wealthier wight,

She left to grief the heart she had beguiled ;
The heart grew sick, and saddening at the sight,

I wept with sorrow !-should I not have smiled ?


Thomas Haynes Bayley, born 1797, died 1839.

On! no, we never mention her, her name is never heard,
My lips are now forbid to speak, that once familiar word ;
From sport to sport they hurry me, to banish my regret,
And when they win a smile from me they think that I forget.

They bid me seek in change of scene the charms that others see,
But were I in a foreign land, they'd find no change in nie.
'Tis true that I behold no more the valley where we met,
I do not see the hawthorn tree, but how can I forget?

For oh! there are so many things recall the past to me,
The breeze upon the sunny hills, the billows of the sea ;
The rosy tint that decks the sky before the sun is set,
Aye, every leaf I look upon forbids that I forget.

They tell me she is happy now, the gayest of the gay,
They hint that she forgets me too, but I heed not what they say ;
Perhaps like me she struggles with each feeling of regret,
But if she loves as I have loved, she never can forget.

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SALLY, Sally! shilly shally! Sally why not name the day ?” “Harry, Harry! I will tarry longer in love's flow'ry way."

Sally, why not make your mind up? Why embitter thus my cup?"
Harry, I've so great a mind, it takes a long time making up.”

'Sally, Sally! in the valley, you have promised many a time,
On the summer Sunday morning, as we heard the matin chime,
Listening to those sweet bells ringing, calling grateful hearts to pray,
I have whispered, ch! how sweetly, they'll proclaim our wedding day."

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· Harry, Harry! I'll not marry, till I find your eyes don't stray : At Kate Riley you so slily stole a wink the other day.” “But Kate Riley, she's my cousin.”—“ Harry, I have cousins too, If you will have close relations, I have cousins close as you,"

“Sally, Sally! do not rally, do not mock my tender woe;
Play me not thus shilly shally, Sally do not tease me so;
Whilst you're smiling, hearts beguiling, doing all a woman can,
Think, though you're almost an angel, I am but a mortal man.”


Thomas K. Hervey. From the “ Poetical Sketch Book," 1829.

ADIEU, adieu !-our dream of love

Was far too sweet to linger long,
Such hopes may bloom in bowers above,

But here they mock the fond and young.

We met in hope.--we part in tears !

Yet, oh! 'tis sadly sweet to know
That life, in all its future years,

Can reach us with no heavier blow!

Our souls have drunk, in early youth,

The bitter dregs of earthly ill,
Our bosoms, blighted in their truth,

Have learned to suffer, and be still !

The hour is come,-the spell is past!

Far, far from thee, my only love!
Youth's earliest hope, and manhood's last !

My darkened spirit turns to rove.

Adieu, adieu !-oh, dull and dread,

Sinks on the ear that parting knell!
Hope, and the dreams of hope, lie dead, -

To them and thee-farewell, farewell !


Thomas K. HERVEY.

I THINK on thee in the night,

When all beside is still,
And the moon comes out, with her pale, sad light,

To sit on the lonely hill !
When the stars are all like dreams,

And the breezes all like sighs,
And there comes a voice from the far-off streams,

Like thy spirit's low replies!

I think on thee by day,

'Mid the cold and busy crowd, When the laughter of the young and gay

Is far too glad and loud ! I hear thy soft, sad tone,

And thy young, sweet smile I see, My heart,—my heart were all alone,

But for its dreams of thee!



Tuou hast smiles for all the world,

Ellen Evelina;
Beautiful those smiles may be,
Warm as sunshine and as free ;
But I'd rather, I confess,
Love a maid, who, smiling less,
Gave ber sweetest smiles to me;

Ellen Evelina,

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