i 
a oN 
LZ ZA he 
a SEN 
a 
THE HEART'S HUSH’D And had he not Iong read 
SECRET. The heart’s hush’d secret, in the soft dark eye 
Lighted at his approach, and on the cheek 
Coloring all crimson at his lightest look? ... 2. #. L. 
What is the tale that I would tell? not one 
Daily, in many a young and blighted art ... Same, 
The wounded dove, when dying, feels the smart, 
Every thing about her resembles the purity of her soul. 
aw 
und her shone 
The light of A, the purity of grace 
The mind, the music breathing from her face ; 
The heart whose softness apg the whole; 
And, oh! that eye was in itself a 
Her form was fresher than the morning rose. 
When the dew wets its leaves ; — and pure 
As is the lily, or the mountain Thoms 
I saw her coral lips to move 
And with her breath she did perfume the air. 
Sacred, and sweet, was all I saw in her 
With looks too bright and sieeve: for such a world 
as this. . Author of Sol. Hours. 
<i. 
Fatsrnoop. And yet he falsely said he was in love ..... Dryden. 
Seog eel as air, 
ov False as the fowler’s aire: Pune cave o pela, 
alll 
ah And days may come, thou false one, yet, 
~ 
ith smiles had still received thee, 
And Sieve died to prove thee 
ee eved thee............. Moore. 
Deticacy. With secret sighs the virgin lily droops. . . . . Darwin. 
Like the lily, 
That once was mistress of the field, and flourished, 
Ill hang my head and perish............. Shake. 
