And, no doubt, were an
Ourang-outang to see you in such a situation, he would not only form a
most mean opinion of you as an individual, but go away with a most false
impression of the whole human race. _Blackwood's Magazine._
* * * * *
SONNET WRITTEN IN THE SPRING.
How heavenly o'er my frame steals the life-breath
Of beautiful Spring! who with her amorous gales
Kissing the violets, each stray sweet exhales
Of May-thorn, and the wild flower on the heath.
I love thee, virgin daughter of the year!
Yet, ah! not cups,--dyed like the dawn, impart
Their elves' dew-nectar to a fainting heart!--
Ye birds! whose liquid warblings far and near
Make music to the green turf-board of swains;
To me, your light lays tell of April joy,--
Of pleasures--idle, as a long-loved toy;
And while my heart in unison complains,
Tears like of balm-tree flow in trickling wave,
And white forms strew with flowers a maid's untimely grave!
_New Monthly Mag._
* * * * *
THE KING OF ARRAGON'S LAMENT FOR HIS BROTHER.[1]
"If I could see him, it were well with me!"
_Coleridge's Wallenstein.
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