As gave to objects, late so bright,
The colouring of a shadowy dream ;
And there was still where Day had set
A flush that spoke him loth to die—
A last link of his glory yet,

Binding together earth and sky.
Say, why is it that twilight best
Becomes even brows the loveliest?
That dimness, with its soft'ning touch,
Can bring out grace, unfelt before,
And charms we ne'er can see too much,
When seen but half enchant the more?
Alas! it is that every joy

In fulness finds its worst alloy,

And half a bliss, but hoped or guess'd,
Is sweeter than the whole possess'd ;-
That Beauty, when least shone upon,
A creature most ideal grows:
And there's no light from moon or sun

Like that Imagination throws ;-
It is, alas! that Fancy shrinks

Ev'n from a bright reality,

And turning inly, feels and thinks

Far heav'nlier things than e'er will be.

GAZEL.

ASTE, Maami, the spring is nigh;
Already, in the' unopen'd flowers
That sleep around us, Fancy's eye

Can see the blush of future bowers;
And joy it brings to thee and me,
My own beloved Maami !

The streamlet frozen on its way,

To feed the marble Founts of Kings,

Now, loosen'd by the vernal ray,

Upon its path exulting springs

As doth this bounding heart to thee,
My ever blissful Maami !

Such bright hours were not made to stay ;

Enough if they a while remain,

Like Irem's bowers, that fade away,

From time to time, and come again,

And life shall all one Irem be
For us, my gentle Maami!

O haste for this impatient heart
Is like the rose in Yemen's vale,
That rends its inmost leaves apart
With passion for the nightingale;
So languishes this soul for thee,
My bright and blushing Maami!

Chor.-A Lottery, a Lottery,

In Cupid's Court there used to be;

Two roguish eyes

The highest prize

In Cupid's scheming Lottery.

SHOULD THOSE FOND HOPES.

HOULD those fond hopes e'er forsake thee,
Which now so sweetly thy heart employ;
Should the cold world come to wake thee

Should the

From all thy visions of youth and joy;

gay

friends, for whom thou wouldst banish Him who once thought thy young heart his own,

All, like spring birds, falsely vanish,

And leave thy winter unheeded and lone;

Oh! 'tis then that he thou hast slighted

Would come to cheer thee, when all seem'd o'er;

Then the truant, lost and blighted,

Would to his bosom be taken once more.

Like that dear bird we both can remember,
Who left us while summer shone round,
But, when chill'd by bleak December,

On our threshold a welcome still found.

WHEN LOVE, WHO RULED.

PHEN Love, who ruled as Admiral o'er
His rosy mother's isles of light,
Was cruising off the Paphian shore,
A sail at sunset hove in sight.

"A chase, a chase! my Cupids all,"
Said Love, the little Admiral.

Aloft the winged sailors sprung,

And, swarming up the mast like bees, The snow-white sails expanding flung, Like broad magnolias to the breeze. "Yo ho! yo ho! my Cupids all!" Said Love, the little Admiral.

The chase was o'er-the bark was caught,
The winged crew her freight explored;
And found 'twas just as Love had thought,
For all was contraband aboard.
"A prize! a prize! my Cupids all!"
Said Love, the little Admiral.

Safe stow'd in many a package there,
And labell'd slyly o'er, as "Glass,"
Were lots of all th' illegal ware

Love's Custom-House forbids to pass. "O'erhaul, o'erhaul! my Cupids all!" Said Love, the little Admiral.

False curls they found, of every hue,

With rosy blushes ready made; And teeth of ivory, good as new,

For veterans in the smiling trade.