My Sister dear.

My sister dear, o'er this rude cheek,
Oft I've felt the tear-drop stealing,

When those mute looks have told the feeling,
Heav'n denied thy tongue to speak;
And thou hadst comfort in that tear,
Shed for thee, my sister dear.

And now, alas! I weep alone,

By thee, my youth's dear friend, forsaken,
'Mid thoughts that darkest fears awaken,
Trembling for thy fate unknown;
And vainly flows the bitter tear,
Shed for thee, my sister dear.

Bonaparte's Farewell.

By LORD BYRON.

Farewell to the land, where the gloom of my glory
Arose and o'ershadow'd the earth with her name,
She abandons me now, but the page of her story,
The brightest or blackest, is fill'd with my fame.
I have warr'd with a world which vanquish'd me only
When the meteor of Conquest allur'd me too far,
I have coped with the nations which dread me thus
lonely,

The last single captive to millions in war!

Farewell to thee, France-when thy diadem crown'd

me,

I made thee the gem and the wonder of earth,— But thy weakness decrees I should leave as I found

thee,

Decayed in thy glory, and sunk in thy worth.

Oh! for the veteran hearts that were wasted

In strife with the storm, when their battles were won,

Then the eagle whose gaze in that moment was blasted, Had still soar'd with eyes fixed on Victory's sun! Farewell to thee, France-but when liberty rallies Once more in thy regions, remember me thenThe violet grows in the depth of thy valleys,

Though withered, thy tears will unfold it again. Yet, yet, I may baffle the hosts that surround us, And yet may thy heart leap awake to my voiceThere are links which must break in the chain that has bound us;

Then turn thee, and call on the chief of thy choice!

Butterfly, Moth and Bee.

BUTTERFLY.

Lovely Much und busy bus,
Come away and taste with me
The pleasures of variety,
Forever ranging;

"Tis sweet on buoyant air to move,
O'er garden, valley, field, and grove,
To flirt, to trifle, and to rove,
Forever changing.

MOTH.

Butterfly and busy Bee

By yon bright blaze go sport with me,
Feel its warmth, its splendor see,

Near it gently playing;

Mark its rays as round we go,

We need not touch the flame, you know,
At pleasure's call our bosoms glow,
Haste her call obeying

BEE.

Butterfly and Moth so fair,
Silly, idle, thoughtless pair,

Stay and know the deepest snare
Assumes the form of pleasure;
Some daily duty seek, like me,
For ah! be sure that industry
To every one alike, will be
A safeguard and a treasure.

See, ah, see, yon cruel boy,
The gaudy Butterfly destroy,
And victim to delusive joy,

The Moth expires in flame;
The Bee, still cheerful, busy, gay,
Renews its toil from day to day,
"Tis industry that points the way
To virtue and to fame

Merrily bounds the Bark,
Merrily, merrily, bounds the bark,
She bounds before the gale;

The mountain breeze from Binnadarch
Is joyous in her sail.

Merrily, merrily, bounds the bark,
O'er the broad ocean driven;
Her path by Ronin's mountain dark,
The steersman's hand has given

Merrily, merrily, goes the bark,

On a breeze from the northward free;
So shoots through the morning sky the lark,
Or the swan through the summer sea.

Merrily, merrily, goes the bark,
Before the gale she bounds;

So flies the dolphin from the shark,
Or the deer before the hounds.

The Phanthom Ship.

"Twas midnight dark,
The seaman's bark

Swift o'er the waters bore him;
When, through the night,
He spied a light,

Shoot o'er the wave before him.
"A sail! a sail!" he cries,

"She comes from the Indian shore; And to-night shall be our prize,

With her freight of golden ore."
Sail on, sail on,-

When morning shone,

He saw the gold still clearer;

But tho' so fast,

The waves he pass'd,

That boat seem'd never the nearer.

Bright daylight came,

And still the same
Rich bark before him floated;
While on the prize,

His wishful eyes,

Like any young lover's doted.

"More sail! more sail!" he cries,

While the wave o'er-tops the mast,

And his bounding galley flies,

Like an arrow before the blast.

Thus on and on,

Till day was gone,

And the moon thro' heaven did hie her;

He swept the main,

But all in vain,

That boat seem'd never the nigher.

And many a day,

To night gave way,

And many a morn succeeded,
While still his flight,

Thro' day and night,
That restless mariner speeded.

Who knows-who knows what seas,

He is now careering o'er ?

Behind the eternal breeze,

And that mocking bark before!
For, oh! till sky

And earth shall die,

And their death leave none to rue it,
That boat must flee,

O'er the boundless sea,
And that ship in vain pursue it.

The Bride.

Oh! take her, but be faithful still,
And may the bridal vow,
Be sacred held in after years,
And warmly breathed as now;
Remember, 'tis no common tie

That binds her youthful heart;
'Tis one that only truth should weave,
And only death can part.

The joys of childhood's happy hour,
The home of riper years,
The treasur'd scenes of early youth,
In sunshine and in tears;
The purest hopes her bosom knew,
When her young heart was free,
All these and more she now resigns,
To brave the world with thee.

Her lot in life is fix'd with thine,
Its good and ill to share,