1825.) 
To her fair breast, by Laura held, 
The lilies seem’d no ionger fair, 
But blush’d to see their tints excell’d— 
Then droop’d, and died of envy there. 
. 
The roses stole the lilies’ hue, 
As on the wreath her cheek she laid ; 
And paler the carnation grew 
To see her ruby lips display’d. 
The dews that on the blossoms rest, 
But seem’d the tears of their despair : 
For, plac’d upon the maiden’s breast, 
They droop’d, and died of envy there. 
Ill. 
But there are flowers that Love entwines, 
Whose breathing balm is Beauty’s sigh, 
That seek no sunny ray that shines, 
Unless it beam from Beauty’s eye : 
And, sure, Affection’s fragrant flower 
Is ’shrin’d within that bosom fair ; 
And, braving Time’s destructive power, 
Will breathe, and bloom for ever there ! 
j OF Od by 
SERENADE. 
re 
O! uisren to thy lover’s lay, 
For, sweet, thou art not sleeping; 
I see thine eye, like rising day, 
Through yonder casement peeping. 
For thee I wake my wild guitar, 
And breathe my passion free, love ; 
Thou shin’st above me, like a star, 
And I will worship thee, love. 
1. 
Oh! while I seek thy breast to move— 
Though rude the song I’m breathing, 
T'll envy not—should’st thow approve— 
The brow that fame is wreathing. 
'. Tho’ half the world is laid to rest, 
No object’s miss’d by me, love; 
For, with thy beauteous presence blest, 
I’ve all the world in thee, love. 
L. L. T. 
SONNET TO SPRING. 
Oxce more, lov’d Spring! to earth a wel-~ 
come guest, 
Thy rural beauties meet my ravish’d eyes: 
Cloth’d in thy mantle of luxuriant dyes, 
Once more thy bowers, sweet nymph, in 
pride are drest. : 
Once more I view thee robe the leafless 
trees, 
Fair Queen of Beauty! with thy hues so 
green ; 
Whilst genial .Zephyr wakes the balmy 
breeze, 
And loads with fragrance all thy breathing 
scene : : 
And scatter’d down yon hawthorn dale 
profuse, 
Yon hedge-row’s bank, or tufted woods* 
green side, : : 
In one wide blush of sweetly-mingling hues 
Thy flowers, O nymph! in nature’s vernal 
pride, 
Original Poetry. 
239 
O’er moss-grown heaths and vales and 
mountains drear, 
Deck with rich tints the youthful, smiling 
year. 
Banks of the Darent. 
THE BARBER’S GHOST. 
Tue light was fading rapidly, 
And night came gathering in ; 
When, mounted on his palfrey grey, 
A weary horseman urged his way, 
Up to the village inn. 
ENort. 
Dark was his brow, his forehead high, 
And lordly was his air ; 
But yet, beneath his flashing eye, 
And up-curl'd lip, you might desery 
A fiend-like spirit there. 
It was the village-wake, a day 
Of feasting and of glee ; 
The streets were crowded,—young and gay, 
And old and grave, kept holiday ; 
While from the inn there brake away 
Loud sounds of revelry. 
Out came the host obsequiously, 
And bowing lowly, said: 
* Tm loth to tell you, Sir, that we 
Are now so full of company, 
You cannot have a bed.” 
‘¢ Pll ride no rhore to-night, at least pr 
In haste the traveller cried ; ¥, 
“‘ Stable and corn, for this poor beast, 
Is all I ask,—for I can rest 
Full easy ‘by his side.” 
Mine host looked wise, and scratched his head, 
As if to speak he wanted : 
‘“‘ There is a room—,”’ at last he said; . 
“ A vacant room, Sir, with a bed; 
But then the room is haunted !””. - 
«‘ Haunted !” ‘cried he, and gave a grin ~ 
That made the landlord stare : ; 
“Good Boniface, why what d’ye mean ??*— 
“ Laugh not,” he answer’d, “ for ve seem 
The lion, that, ere morn, has been “ 
As frighten’d as a hare.— 
‘> Tis just a dozen years this day, 
The time I well did note, 
Since a rich barber, who, they say, 
Had lost aheavy purse by play, 
Slunk to that fearful room away, 
And there he cut his throat. 
** And, ever since, his ghost unblest 
The razor there has way’d ; 
Nor will he suffer you to rest, 
But, soon as midnight strikes, the pest 
Glides to the bedside of the guest, 
And cries, ‘ Will you be shav’d ?’ ”— 
‘«? Tis well!”’ the stranger cried—* this night, 
Within that room I’1l harbour: : 
Air well the bed, and place a light; 
Twill give my very hvart delight, 
To have a confab with this sprite, 
This gtatis-shaving barber !”’ 
“«O, Sir,” the landlord cried, “ beware !”— 
But suddenly he ceased, - oie lsd. 
Awed by the traveller’s scornful glare : 
And 
