iJuU. 231 
Reed.... Single Blessedness. 
But earlier is the rose distilleJ, 
1'han that which withering on the virgin thorn 
Grows, lives, and dies in single blessedness. 
Shakspeai'e. 
Li)ve not, love not; the tiling you love may change; 
The rosy lip may cease to smile on you, 
Tlie kindly beaming eye grow cold and strange, 
The heart still warmly beat, and not for you. 
Mrs. Norton. 
Alone ! alone ! how drear it is always to be alone ! 
In such a depth of wilderness, the only thinking one ! 
The waters in their path rejoice, the trees together 
sleep — 
But I have not one silver voice upon my ear to creep ! 
Willis. 
Do any thing but love ; or, if thou lovest, 
And art a woman, hide thy love from him 
AVhom thou dost worship. Never let him know 
How dear he is ; flit like a bird before him ; 
Lead him from tree to tree, from flower to flower ; 
But be not won ; or thou wilt, like that bird. 
When caught and caged, be left to pine neglected, 
And perish in forgetfulness. 
Miss Landon, 
