
hite blox 
he year, 
new 
eaven, | 
PPAN, 


FLORA’S ALBUM. 

Cherry, Winter. 
DECEPTION. 
Deceive no more thyself and me, 
Deceive not better hearts than mine ; 
Ah! shouldst thou, whither wouldst thou flee 
From woe like ours, — from shame like thine ? 
Ani if there be a wrath divine, 
A pang beyond this fleeting breath, 
®’en now all future hopes resign, 
Such thoughts are guilt, — such guilt is death. 
BYRON, 
Ah that deceit should steal such gentle shapes, 
And with a virtuous vision hide deep vice! 
SHAKSPEARE. 
It flatters and deceives thy view, 
This mirror of ill-polished ore ; 
For were it just, and told thee true, 
Thou wouldst consult it never more. 
Wu. CowPEe. 


































