SONG.-BY WALLER. A lady of Cambridge lent Waller's Poems to Henry, and when he returned them to her, she discovered an additional Stanza written by him at the bottom of the Song here copied. Go, lovely rose! Tell her, that wastes her time on me, When I resemble her to thee, How sweet and fair she seems to be. Tell her that's young, In deserts where no men abide, Small is the worth Of beauty from the light retired; Suffer herself to be desired, And not blush so to be admired. Then die, that she The common fate of all things rare How small a part of time they share, That are so wondrous sweet and fair. [Yet, though thou fade, From thy dead leaves let fragrance rise; That Goodness Time's rude hand defies; H. K. WHITE. "I AM PLEASED, AND YET I'M SAD." I. WHEN twilight steals along the ground, I at my study-window sit, And, wrapp'd in many a musing fit, To bliss am all alive. II. But though impressions calm and sweet The tear-drop stands in either eye, I am pleased, and yet I'm sad. III. The silvery rack that flies away Does that disturb my breast? Nay, what have I, a studious man, IV. Is it that here I must not stop, No, surely no! for give but me V. Then is it that yon steeple there, When thou no more canst hear? VI. Then whence it is I cannot tell, That holds me when I'm glad ; And so the tear-drop fills my eye, When yet in truth I know not why, Or wherefore I am sad. SOLITUDE. It is not that my lot is low, In woods and glens I love to roam, When the tired hedger hies him home; Or by the woodland pool to rest, When pale the star looks on its breast. Yet when the silent evening sighs, The autumn leaf is sear and dead, I would not be a leaf, to die The woods and winds, with sudden wail, I've none to smile when I am free, Yet in my dreams a form I view, IF far from me the Fates remove O teach me, when the nights are chill, FANNY! upon thy breast I may not lie! Fanny! thou dost not hear me when I speak! Where art thou, love?-Around I turn my eye, And as I turn, the tear is on my cheek. |