The Bridge of Sighs.
One more Unfortunate
Weary of breath
Rashly importunate,
Gone to her death.

Take her up tenderly,
Lift her with care;
Fashioned so slenderly,

Young, and so fair!

Alas! for the rarity

Of Christian charity

Under the sun.

Even God's providence

Seeming estranged.

The Seasons.

Boughs are daily rifled
By the gusty thieves,
And the book of Nature
Getteth short of leaves.

Song of the Shirt.

It is not linen you 're wearing out, But human creatures' lives.

My tears must stop, for every drop, Hinders needle and thread.

Ode to Melancholy.

And there is ev'n a happiness

That makes the heart afraid.

There's not a string attuned to mirth,
But has its chord in Melancholy.

Ballad.

When he is forsaken,

Withered and shaken,

What can an old man do but die?

I remember, I remember.

I remember, I remember

The fir-trees dark and high;

I used to think their slender tops

Were close against the sky:

It was a childish ignorance,

But now 't is little joy

To know I'm further off from heaven

Than when I was a boy.

Miss Kilmansegg.

Seemed washing his hands with invisible soap In imperceptible water.

Her Moral.

Gold! Gold! Gold! Gold!

Bright and yellow, hard and cold.

Spurned by the young, but hugged by the old
To the very verge of the churchyard mould.

To save to ruin to curse

- to bless

As even its minted coins express,

Now stamped with the image of Good Queen Bess,
And now of a Bloody Mary.

A Table of Errata.

Oh! would I were dead now,

Or up in my bed now,

To cover my head now

And have a good cry !

SAMUEL ROGERS.

Human Life.

A guardian-angel o'er his life presiding,
Doubling his pleasures, and his cares dividing.

The soul of music slumbers in the shell,

Till waked and kindled by the master's spell;
And feeling hearts touch them but rightly ― pour

A thousand melodies unheard before!

Then, never less alone than when alone.*

* Numquam se minus otiosum esse, quam quum otiosus, nec minus solum, quam quum solus esset.

De Officiis, Lib. iii. cap. 1. CICERO.

Those that he loved so long and sees no more,

Loved and still loves,

He gathers round him.

- not dead, but gone before, —

A Wish.

Mine be a cot beside the hill;

A beehive's hum shall soothe my ear;
A willowy brook, that turns a mill,
With many a fall, shall linger near.

To a Tear.

That very law which moulds a tear
And bids it trickle from its source,
That law preserves the earth a sphere
And guides the planets in their course.

RICHARD MONCKTON MILNES.

Tragedy of the Lac de Gaube.

Stanza 2.

But on and up, where Nature's heart
Beats strong amid the hills.

The Men of Old.

Great thoughts, great feelings, came to them, Like instincts, unawares.

A man's best things are nearest him,
Lie close about his feet.

BRYAN W. PROCTOR.

The Sea.

The sea! the sea! the open sea!
The blue, the fresh, the ever free!

I never was on the dull, tame shore,
But I loved the great sea more and more.