WRITTEN IN A LADY'S ALBUM. "COMING from a gloomy court, Place of Israelite resort, This old lamp I've brought with me. Madam, on its panes you 'll see The initials K and E." "An old lantern brought to me? "Please to mark the letters twain " Full a hundred years are gone Since the little beacon shone From a Venice balcony: There, on summer nights, it hung, And her lovers came and sung To their beautiful K E. "Hush! in the canal below Don't you hear the plash of oars Underneath the lantern's glow, "Lady, do you know the tune? Long, long, through the hours, and, When the candles burn low, and the company's gone, the night, and the chimes, Here we talk of old books, and old In the silence of night as I sit here friends, and old times; As we sit in a fog made of rich Latakie This chamber is pleasant to you, friend, and me. But of all the cheap treasures that garnish my nest, There's one that I love and I cherish the best: For the finest of couches that's padded with hair I never would change thee, my canebottom'd chair. 'Tis a bandy-legg'd, high-shoulder'd, But since the fair morning when Fan- I bless thee and love thee, old canebottom'd chair. If chairs have but feeling, in holding such charms, A thrill must have pass'd through your wither'd old arms; I look'd, and I long'd, and I wish'd in despair; I wish'd myself turn'd to a cane-bottom'd chair. It was but a moment she sat in this place, She'd a scarf on her neck, and a smile on her face! A smile on her face, and a rose in her hair, alone I sit here alone, but we yet are a pair My Fanny I see in my cane-bottom'd chair. PISCATOR AND PISCATRIX. Amuses and engages: My lord the County's page is. A pleasant place for such a pair! Of lazy summer quickens. Young progeny of chickens. It is too hot to pace the keep; And she sat there, and bloom'd in my To climb the turret is too steep; cane-bottom'd chair. And so I have valued my chair ever Like the shrine of a saint, or the The queen of my heart and my cane- My lord the earl is dozing deep, And so from out the gate they creep, Their lines into the brook they launch; To guarantee his Lady Blanche 's delicate complexion: He takes his rapier from his haunch, That beardless doughty champion stanch; He'd drill it through the rival's paunch That question'd his affection! O heedless pair of sportsmen slack! You never mark, though trout or jack, Or little foolish stickleback, Your baited snares may capture. What care has she for line and hook? She turns her back upon the brook, Upon her lover's eyes to look In sentimental rapture. O loving pair! as thus I gaze Upon the lover's shoulder; The Poet your beholder. To be brave, handsome, twenty-two; With nothing else on earth to do, But all day long to bill and coo: It were a pleasant calling. And had I such a partner sweet; A tender heart for mine to beat, A gentle hand my clasp to meet; I'd let the world flow at my feet, And never heed its brawling. THE ROSE UPON MY BALCONY. THE rose upon my balcony the morning air perfuming, Was leafless all the winter time and pining for the spring; You ask me why her breath is sweet, and why her cheek is blooming, It is because the sun is out and birds begin to sing. The nightingale, whose melody is through the greenwood ringing, Was silent when the boughs were bare and winds were blowing keen: While yet the poet's bosom glows, While yet the dame is peerless fair! Sweet lady mine! while yet 'tis time Requite my passion and my truth, And gather in their blushing prime The roses of your youth! AT THE CHURCH GATE. ALTHOUGH I enter not, Yet round about the spot Ofttimes I hover: And near the sacred gate, With longing eyes I wait, Expectant of her. The Minster bell tolls out And noise and humming: She 's coming, she 's coming! My lady comes at last, And hastening hither, With modest eyes downcast: Kneel, undisturb'd, fair Saint! I will not enter there, But suffer me to pace THE AGE OF WISDOM. Ho, pretty page, with the dimpled chin, That never has known the Barber's snear, |