THOMAS HOOD.

1798-1845.

FAIR INES.

O SAW ye not fair Ines?
She's gone into the West,
To dazzle when the sun is down,
And rob the world of rest:

She took our daylight with her,

The smiles that we love best,

With morning blushes on her cheek,

And pearls upon her breast.

O turn again, fair Ines,

Before the fall of night,

For fear the Moon should shine alone,

And stars unrivalled bright;

And blessed will the lover be

That walks beneath their light,

And breathes the love against thy cheek

I dare not even write!

Would I had been, fair Ines,

That gallant cavalier,

Who rode so gaily by thy side,

And whispered thee so near!

Were there no bonny dames at home,

Or no true lovers here,

That he should cross the seas to win

The dearest of the dear?

I saw thee, lovely Ines,
Descend along the shore,

With bands of noble gentlemen,

And banners waved before;

And gentle youth and maidens gay,
And snowy plumes they wore;

It would have been a beauteous dream

-If it had been no more!

Alas, alas, fair Ines,

She went away with song,

With Music waiting on her steps,

And shoutings of the throng;

But some were sad, and felt no mirth,

But only Music's wrong,

In sounds that sang, Farewell, Farewell,

To her you've loved so long.

LINES

ON SEEING MY WIFE AND TWO CHILDREN SLEEPING IN THE SAME CHAMBER.

And has the earth lost its so spacious round,

The sky its blue circumference above,
That in this little chamber there is found

Both earth and heaven-my universe of love!
All that my God can give me, or remove,
Here sleeping, save myself, in mimic death.
Sweet that in this small compass I behove
To live their living and to breathe their breath!
Almost I wish that with one common sigh
We might resign all mundane care and strife,
And seek together that transcendent sky,
Where Father, Mother, Children, Husband, Wife,
Together pant in everlasting life!

COBLENTZ, November, 1835.

Az egi dad in bam e

But sezers svetimos lave such erex
And trol de love such tresses too;
As we then sik to me of bea Vefl,
I sigh that thou last not a sin to be forgiven!

Might comes with bove upon the breeze,
And the calm cock strikes, stilly, “Te#.”
I sout to art beat for then

I know that thou art on thy knees

And, at that hour, where'er thou be,
Ascends to heaven a prayer for me!
My heart drops to its bended knee,

The mirth upon my lip is dumb:
Yet, as a thought of heaven would come,
There glides before it, one of thee:

Thou, in thy white dress, kneeling there!

I fear I could leave heaven to see thee at thy prayer!

I follow up the sacred aisle,

Thy light step on the Sabbath day,
And, as perhaps thou pray'st the while,
My light thoughts pass away!

As swells in air the holy hymn,

My breath comes quick, my eyes are dim,
And through my tears I pray!

I do not think my heart is stone;
But, while for heaven it beats alone,
In heaven would willing stay,
One rustle of thy snow-white gown
Sends all my thoughts astray!

The preaching dies upon my ear;

What is the better world-when thy dark eyes are here!

Yet pray! my years have been but few;
And many a wile the tempter weaves,
And many a saint the sinner grieves,
Ere Mercy brings him through!

But O, when Mercy sits serene,

And strives to bend to me,

Pray, that the cloud which comes between
May less resemble thee!

The world, that would my soul beguile,
Tints all its roses with thy smile!

In heaven 't were well to be!

But to desire that blessed shore

O Lady! thy dark eyes must first have gone before!

PHILIP PENDLETON COOKE.

1816-1850.

FLORENCE VANE.

I LOVED thee long and dearly,
Florence Vane;

My life's bright dream and early
Hath come again;

I renew, in my fond vision,

My heart's dear pain,
My hopes, and thy derision,
Florence Vane.

The ruin, lone and hoary,

The ruin old,

Where thou didst hark my story,

At even told;

That spot-the hues Elysian

Of sky and plain—

I treasure in my vision,

Florence Vane.

Thou wast lovelier than the roses

In their prime;

Thy voice excelled the closes

Of sweetest rhyme;

Thy heart was as a river

Without a main.