I try to forget thee, Alas!—but in vain,—
And banish for ever thy love from my heart,
But, sadly, the effort is racking my brain,—

I cannot, dear Willie, from you live apart!

But, do not despise a true Woman's love!

Nor think I am weak in telling my pain, 'Tis Nature that speaks,-for Love reigns above, And prompts me to plead—that you come back again.

If cruel and cold you still will remain,

My heart may grow cold and seared as thine own; When from your love free-and broken the chain, Then proudly I'll leave you for ever—alone!

But, pause my dear Willie-nor force me to this,
Reflect on the grief it may give us twain;
Oh, come to my arms-and seal with a kiss,
Our union of Love, and ne'er part again!

Now, Willie, farewell! or meet me at ten

You know how to act, for plainly I've spoken, Few maidens would dare speak so truly to men, Nor tell how a heart so nearly was broken.

Nor deem me immodest in asking this seal,

For Nature and Love speak true from the heart,
Despising cold Form-and inwardly feel,

That true Love and Virtue, dwell never apart!
Ah! keep me no longer in painful suspense !—
After writing so plain, dear Willie, to thee,
Be true in return-but, let no pretence

Nor Guile ever come between you and me.

No more shall I write-perhaps I am wrong
In writing so plainly to one who may spurn,
And treat this Heart-pleading, as if 'twere a song,
And only written the sooner to burn!

But, pause, if you do!-it may be my turn!
P.S.-Your heart will tell—I know full well,
Who sent this rhyming letter;

Pen you the same-it needs no name,
But, let yours be much better.

THE BAD PREACHER.

"Ye are nane of our trade, man,-in the name of God what the devil are "-King James in the Fortunes of Nigel.

"the wisest fool in Christendom."

And King Jamie was called by Sully, "Why the devil stand'st thou still, man-like an ape at a roasted chestnutwhich he thinks too warm for his fingers?"-Anne of Geierstein.

"Regard and weigh yon dust before it flies:

That little urn saith more than thousand homilies."

Byron's Childe Harold.

OU see yon stuttering-hare-brained fool

γου

Ascend the steps of God's High Altar there!—

His very presence makes Religion cool,

And makes a mockery of Holy Prayer.

Alack-a-day-for God's most sacred cause,

When each deformed,-ambitious Coof dare preach-
And, stammering, read off paper His eternal laws,-
As if 'twere savages they'd come to teach.

One good old rule there was, in Levite1 times—
That public teachers should be blemish free,
In Reason strong-fair face-no limping limb-
That Mind and Body both-with power agree.

But now, each Cobbler with an object son—
Unfit to cobble-thinks him fit to pray,--

Toils late and early till his fees are won,

Then off to College where he learns to bray.

1 "And the Lord spake unto Moses, saying, Speak unto Aaron, saying, Whosoever hath any blemish, let him not approach to offer the bread of his God. For whatsoever man he be that hath a blemish, he shall not approach; a blind man, or a lame, or he that hath a flat nose, or anything superfluous. Or a man that is broken-footed, or broken-handed. Or crook-backed, or a dwarf, or that hath a blemish in his eye, or be scurvy, or scabbed, or hath his stones broken: No man that hath a blemish of the seed of Aaron the priest shall come nigh to offer the offerings of the Lord, nor come nigh unto the altar, because he hath a blemish; that he profane not My sanctuaries: for I the Lord do sanctify them (Levit. xxi. 16-23). When you go to church expecting to hear the Word of God preached as it ought, and find you are listening to a creature whom you can neither follow nor respect, it is like taking up a book with a wrong title-page, for within,you find a heap of rubbish.

In time he's foisted on the Public ear,-
To play a dull and soporiferous part,
Till true Religion shrinks away in fear

To see, by Sleep, Christ wounded to the heart!

What marvel if immortal Mind sees through

And spurns the mocking-thin-transparent veil— And sooner far-prefers God's works to view Than hear His precepts mouthed like fairy tale !

One preacher only, lives, whom we can trust,—
His sermons strike, and awes Reflection's ear,
When pealing Thunder tells that Man is dust,
But that his Soul before Him shall appear.

TO FANNY.

"Through regions remote, in vain do I rove,
And bid the wide ocean secure me from Love;
Oh, fool to imagine that ought could subdue
A love so well founded, a passion so true!"

Он,

H, Fanny, if knew
you
heart!-
my
The cruel pang that makes me part;

Less cruel you would be, I know,)
And give one smile before I go !

It is not I who am to blame,
True Nature's Love is all the same:
It was your laughing, loving eyes
That took mine captive by surprise.

If rude I was-oh, gently scan,
The fault that proved I was but Man!
But now-have not the slightest fear,
I'll meet you as a Friend,-I swear!

Yes! Friend!-a loving one, 'tis true,
Whose actions will be ruled by you—
Or rather Honour, Love, and Truth,
For only Baseness sullies youth.

I know not why it should be so,—
So heart-felt pained to let you go;
You should be nought on earth to me,
But yet I still must think on thee-
(Perhaps my fate is wrapped in thee.)

Think not these lines are penned by art,-
But,-welling from a wounded heart ;-
It may be wrong, I'm sure it is,
To tamper with a hopeless bliss.

For Passion is a hidden fire,
That deepest burns,-without desire;
And far most dangerous is Love

That loves, and knows it dare not move.

Tied down by Form, and human rules,
Just like a child attending schools,
And when it would be gladly free,
'Tis lashed by cold Society!

But Nature still demands her right,
For all are equal in her sight,-
When hearts can truly throb together,
'Twas these she made for one another.

What formal bond can bind the heart-
That living spring which flows o'er art?—
Or tie the pinions of the Soul
That soars beyond poor Man's control ?

And Woman's too, if she'll but own,
That Cupid in her breast hath flown!
But, guarded by her Modesty,-
That shield which guards her purity!

Vain are the bonds of human laws,

That tie with threads Great Nature's cause,

The bud just opening on the tree,

Will burst its fetters and be free.

So, still to you, my thoughts shall flow, In spite of Form which melts like snow,And oft my heart to thine is pressed, When calm, alone, you think you rest.

This, like the last, thrust in the fire,
As emblem of all false desire,
And, kindly, Fanny, think of me,-
As I must fondly think on Thee!

Why did you shake your head last night,
When you with Jeanie stood in sight?
In anger was it? or Disdain?—
Give me, I beg, my heart again!

I'll write no more, and ne'er again,
Will write with Love's forbidden pen,
Because my Motive you might blame,

But still my Thoughts will be the same!

A LOVE-SICK SWAIN TO HIS MISTRESS.

"You saw through the silence that others despise,

And while they were talking-read Love in my eyes."

HY flies my Delia from my fond embrace?

WHY

And flit like swallow, when the Winter's near

Say, doth the cooing of the ring-dove chase

Away the mate that bills so fondly here?

What doth the truant blushes of the cheek,

And half-stolen glances of the Love-lit eye,

Or gentle pressure of the hand bespeak?

But Love, that fain would soar,-but fears to fly.

Ah! is it prudent, sweetest? is it wise?

To tempt a passion that you will not quell!
Be kind for once, let Love speak from your eyes,
Then break, who can, our fond,-forbidden spell!

Love should be free,—both Truth and Instinct say,
Although, perchance, stern Duty whispers no!-
Can Prudence stay the Sun's life-giving ray?
Or make the ocean cease its tidal flow?

Give me but hope that you may yet be mine,

Then leave to Love to break our brittle chain;