And still "Good night," my Rosa, say—
But whisper still, "A minute stay;"
And I will stay, and every minute
Shall have an age of transport in it;
Till Time himself shall stay his flight,
To listen to our sweet "Good night."

"Good night!" you'll murmur with a sigh, And tell me it is time to fly:

And I will vow, will swear to go,

While still that sweet voice murmurs "No!"
Till slumber seal our weary sight-
And then, my love, my soul, "Good night!"

SONG.

WHY does azure deck the sky? "Tis to be like thine eyes of blue; Why is red the rose's dye?

Because it is thy blushes' hue. All that's fair, by Love's decree, Has been made resembling thee!

Why is falling snow so white,

But to be like thy bosom fair? Why are solar beams so bright?

That they may seem thy golden hair! All that's bright, by Love's decree, Has been made resembling thee!

Why are nature's beauties felt?

Oh! 'tis thine in her we see ! Why has music power to melt?

Oh! because it speaks like thee All that's sweet, by Love's decree, Has been made resembling theo

WRITTEN IN A COMMONPLACE

CALLED

"THE BOOK OF FOLLIES;"

IN WHICH EVERY ONE THAT OPENED IT WAS TO CO SOMETHING.

TO THE BOOK OF FOLLIES.

THIS tribute's from a wretched elf, Who hails thee, emblem of himself. The book of life, which I have traced, Has been, like thee, a motley waste Of follies scribbled o'er and o'er, One folly bringing hundreds more. Some have indeed been writ so neat, In characters so fair, so sweet, That those who judge not too severely, Have said they loved such follies dearly Yet still, O book! the allusion stands ; For these were penn'd by female hands The rest-alas! I own the truthHave all been scribbled so uncouth That Prudence, with a with'ring look, Disdainful, flings away the book. Like thine, its pages here and there Have oft been stain'd with blots of care And sometimes hours of peace, I own, Upon some fairer leaves have shone, White as the snowings of that heav'n By which those hours of peace were giv But now no longer-such, oh, such The blast of Disappointment's touch!No longer now those hours appear; Each leaf is sullied by a tear: Blank, blank is ev'ry page with care, Not ev❜n a folly brightens there. Will they yet brighten ?-never, never! Then shut the book, O God, forever!

Thou say'st, that we were born to meet,
That our hearts bear one common seal ;-
Think, Lady, think, how man's deceit
Can seem to sigh and feign to feel.

When, o'er thy face some gleam of thought,
Like day beams through the morning air,
Hath gradual stole, and I have caught
The feeling ere it kindled there;

The sympathy I then betray'd,

Perhaps was but the child of art,

The guile of one, who long hath play'd With all these wily nets of heart.

O thine is not my earliest vow;
Though few the years I yet have told,
Canst thou believe I've lived till now,
With loveless heart or senses cold?

No-other nymphs to joy and pain

This wild and wandering heart hath moved; With some it sported, wild and vain,

While some it dearly, truly loved.

The cheek to thine I fondly lay,

To theirs hath been as fondly laid; The words to thee I warmly say, To them have been as warmly said.

Then, scorn at once a worthless heart, Worthless alike, or fix'd or free; Think of the pure, bright soul thou art, And-love not me, oh love not me.

Enough-now, turn thine eyes again;
What, still that look and still that sigh!
Dost thou not feel my counsel then?
Oh! no, beloved, nor do I.

ΤΟ

THE INVISIBLE GIRL.

THEY try to persuade me, my dear little sprite,
That you're not a true daughter of ether and light,
Nor have any concern with those fanciful forms
That dance upon rainbows and ride upon storms;
That, in short, you're a woman; your lip and your

eye

As mortal as ever drew gods from the sky.

But I will not believe them-no, Science, to you I have long bid a last and a careless adieu:

Still flying from Nature to study her laws,
And dulling delight by exploring its cause,
You forget how superior, for mortals below,
Is the fiction they dream to the truth that they
know.

Oh! who, that has e'er enjoy'd rapture complete,
Would ask how we feel it, or why it is sweet;
How rays are confused, or how particles fly
Through the medium refined of a glance or a sigh ;
Is there one, who but once would not rather have
known it,

Than written, with Harvey, whole volumes upon it?

As for you, my sweet-voiced and invisible love, You must surely be one of those spirits, that rove By the bank where, at twilight, the poet reclines, When the star of the west on his solitude shines, And the magical figures of fancy have hung Every breeze with a sigh, every leaf with a tongue. Oh! hint to him then, 'tis retirement alone Can hallow his harp or ennoble its tone; Like you, with a veil of seclusion between, His song to the world let him utter unseen, And like you, a legitimate child of the spheres, Escape from the eye to enrapture the ears.

Sweet spirit of mystery! how I should love,
In the wearisome ways I am fated to rove,
To have you thus ever invisibly nigh,

Inhaling forever your song and your sigh!
Mid the crowds of the world and the murmurs of

care,

I might sometimes converse with my nymph of the

air,

And turn with distaste from the clamorous crew, To steal in the pauses one whisper from you.

Then, come and be near me, forever be mine,
We shall hold in the air a communion divine,
As sweet as, of old, was imagined to dwell
In the grotto, of Numa, or Socrates' cell.

And oft, at those lingering moments of night,

When the heart's busy thoughts have put slumber

to flight,

You shall come to my pillow and tell me of love,
Such as angel to angel might whisper above.
Sweet spirit!-and then, could you borrow the

tone

Of that voice, to my ear like some fairy-song known,

The voice of the one upon earth, who has twined
With her being forever my heart and my mind,
Though lonely and far from the light of her smile,
An exile, and weary and hopeless the while,
Could you shed for a moment her voice on my ear,
I will think, for that moment, that Cara is near;