His hand still grasp'd a bunch of flowers;
And (true, though wondrous) near,
To sentry his reposing hours,

There stood a female deer

Who dipp'd her horns at all that pass'd1

The spot where Wilhelm lay;

Till force was had to hold her fast,

And bear the boy away.

Hail! sacred love of childhood-hail !

How sweet it is to trace

Thine instinct in Creation's scale,

Ev'n 'neath the human race.

To this poor wanderer of the wild
Speech, reason were unknown-
And yet she watch'd a sleeping child
As if it were her own;

And thou, Wiesbaden's artisan,

Restorer of the boy,

Was ever welcomed mortal man

With such a burst of joy?

The father's ecstasy-the mother's
Hysteric bosom's swell;

1 The female deer has no such antlers as the male, and sometimes no horns at all; but I have observed many with short ones suckling their fawns.

The sisters' sobs-the shout of brothers,
I have not power to tell.

The working man, with shoulders broad,
Took blithely to his wife

The thousand crowns; a pleasant load,
That made him rich for life.

And Nassau's Duke the favourite took
Into his deer-park's centre,

To share a field with other pets

Where deer-slayer cannot enter.

There, whilst thou cropp'st thy flowery food,

Each hand shall pat thee kind;

And man shall never spill thy blood-
Wiesbaden's gentle hind.

THE JILTED NYMPH.

A SONG,

TO THE SCOTCH TUNE OF "WOO'D AND MARRIED AND A'."

I'm jilted, forsaken, outwitted;

Yet think not I'll whimper or brawl→

The lass is alone to be pitied

Who ne'er has been courted at all:

Never by great or small,

Woo'd or jilted at all;

Oh, how unhappy's the lass

Who has never been courted at all!

My brother call'd out the dear faithless,

In fits I was ready to fall,

Till I found a policeman who, scatheless,

Swore them both to the peace at Guildhall; Seized them, seconds and all

Pistols, powder and ball;

I wish'd him to die my devoted, But not in a duel to sprawl.

What though at my heart he has tilted,

What though I have met with a fall?

Better be courted and jilted,

Than never be courted at all.

Woo'd and jilted and all,

Still I will dance at the ball;
And waltz and quadrille
With light heart and heel,
With proper young men, and tall.

But lately I've met with a suitor,
Whose heart I have gotten in thrall,
And I hope soon to tell you in future
That I'm woo'd, and married and all:

Woo'd and married and all,

What greater bliss can befall?

And you all shall partake of my bridal cake,

When I'm woo'd and married, and all.

ON GETTING HOME

THE PORTRAIT OF A FEMALE CHILD.

SIX YEARS OLD.

PAINTED BY EUGENIO LATILLA.

TYPE of the Cherubim above,

Come, live with me, and be my love!
Smile from my wall, dear roguish sprite,
By sunshine and by candle-light;
For both look sweetly on thy traits:
Or, were the Lady Moon to gaze,
She'd welcome thee with lustre bland,
Like some young fay from Fairyland.
Cast in simplicity's own mould,
How canst thou be so manifold
In sportively distracting charms?
Thy lips-thine eyes-thy little arms
That wrapt thy shoulders and thy head,
In homeliest shawl of netted thread,
Brown woollen net-work; yet it seeks
Accordance with thy lovely cheeks,
And more becomes thy beauty's bloom
Than any shawl from Cashmere's loom.