THE HOUR OF LOVE.

When the fair one, and the dear one,

Her lover by her side, Strays or sits, as fancy flits,

Where yellow streamlets glide, Gleams illuming, flowers perfuming,

Where'er her footsteps rove, Time beguiling with her smiling

O, that's the hour of love!

Should the fair one, and the dear one,

The sigh of pity lend,
For human woe, that presses low,

A stranger or a friend!
Tears descending, sweetly blending

As down her cheek they rove,
Beauty's charms, in Pity's arms,-

0, that's the hour of love!

When the fair one, and the dear one,

Appears in morning dreams,
In flowing vest, by fancy drest-
And all the angel beams

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The heavenly mien, and look serere,

Confess her from above;
While rising sighs, and dewy eyes,

Say, that's the hour of love.

THE VIRGIN'S FIRST LOVE.

Yes,--sweet is the joy when our blushes impart The youthful affection that glows in the heart, If prudence, and duty, and reason approve The timid delight of the virgin's first love.

But if the fond virgin be destin'd to feel
A passion she must in her bosom conceal,
Lest parents relentless the flame disapprove
Where's then the delight of the virgin's first love?

If stolen the glance by which love is exprest,
If sighs when half heaved be with terror supprest,
If whispers of passion suspicion must move,
Where's then the delight of the virgin's first love?
Or if (ah ! too faithful) with fondness she sighis
For one who has ceased her affection to prize,
Forgetting the vows by whose magic he strove
To gain that rich treasure the virgin's first love,--

If tempted by interest he venture to shun
The gentle affection his tenderness won,
Through passions soft maze with another to rove,--
Where's then the delight of the virgin's first love?

Her eye, (when the tale of his treachery she hears,) Now beams with disdain, and now glistens with

tears ; Ah! what can the arrow then rankling remove? Farewell the delight of the virgin's first love!

And see, sad companion of mental distress, Disease steals upon her in health's flattering dress : Oh! surely that bloom every fear should remove ! Ah! no ;---seek its cause in the virgin's first

love.

Still brighter the colour appears on her cheek, Her eye boasts a lustre no language can speak; But vain are the hopes these appearances move, Fond parent! they spring from the virgin's first

love.

LS

And soon, while unconscious that fate hovers near, While bope's flattering smiles on her features ap

pear, No struggle, no groan, his approaches to prove Death ends the fond dream of the virgin's first

love.

TO A FRIEND ON HIS MARRIAGE.

On thee, blest youth, a father's hand confers,

The maid thy earliest, fondest wishes knew. Each soft enchantment of the soul is hers;

Thine bie the joys to firm attachment due.

As on she moves with hesitating grace,

She wins assurance from his soothing voice; And, with a look the pencil could not trace,

Smiles thro' her blushes, and confirms the choice

Spare the fine tremors of her feeling frame !

To thee she turns-forgive a virgin's fears ! To thee she turns with surest, tenderest claim,

Weakness that charms, reluctance that endears!

At each response the sacred rite requires,

From her full bosom bursts the unbidden sigh, A strange mysterious awe the scene inspires;

And on her lips the trembling accents die.

O'er her fair face what wild emotions play!

What lights and shades in sweet confusion blend! Soon shall they fly, glad harbingers of day,

And settled sunshine on her sout descend.

Ah! soon, thine own confest, ecstatie thought! That hand shall strew thy summer path with

flowers; And those blue eyes, with mildest·lustre fraught,

Gild the calın current of domestic hours !