Now faded, forlorn, scarce the wreck of its charms Remain e'en for fancy's renewing;

Its branches are bare, and exposed are its thorns, And it lays the pale victim of ruin .

Discontent is the mildew that fades on the mind, 'That robs the warm cheek of its roses;

That cankers the breast of the rude or refined,
Where'er it a moment reposes.

'Tis a wizard, whose touch withers beauty away,
And denies every pleasure to blossom;
Insidiously creeps to the heart of its prey,
And invites cold despair to the bosom.

True Love.

Young.

CELESTIAL happiness! where'er she stoops
To visit earth, one shrine the goddess finds,
And one alone, to make her sweet amends
For absent heaven the bosom of a friend;
Where heart meets heart, reciprocally soft,
Each other's pillow to repose divine .
Beware the counterfeit ! in passion's flame
Hearts melt, but melt like ice, soon harder froze.
True love strikes root in reason, passion's foe;

Virtue alone entenders us for life;

I wrong her much eutenders us for ever.

Resignation.

Bernard Barton, Esq.

IN night's dull watches, dark and drear,
A soothing sense of hope it brings
To think the dawn of day is near
With healing on its wings.

In bleak December's cheerless reign
Hope tells us, in its sternest hours,
That blithesome spring will come again
To deck the earth with flowers.

But can we by the darksome grave
Thus borrow Resignation's tone,
When God resumes the gift he gave,
And we are left alone?

Oh! doubt it not, night ushers day:
In ruthless winter, spring is nigh;
And time, whate'er he steals away,
Will bring Eternity.

Then shall the grave restore its dead,
Whose transient loss we now deplore;
And eyes, which tears of sorrow shed,
Shall learn to weep no more.

Then they, who meekly kiss'd the rod
E'en while they shed the bitter tear,

Shall bow in thankfulness to God

Most

for what seem'd severe.

From the Amethyst for 1833.

The Gate-keeper's Daughter.

No traveller pass'd either early or late,
By Tiverton bar, but would gaze for awhile
On the sweet little girl who open'd the gate
And was sure to be paid by a beautiful smile.

The rich man and poor man admired with delight
No yeoman around but had ardently sought her:
The toast of the village was drank every night-
"The sweet little Mary the gate-keeper's daughter."

I then too was young, and was buoyant in soul!
And often would linger myself for awhile;
I thought it was heav'n, while paying the toll,
To win from young Mary a beautiful smile.

I went th' other day: - still the white bar was there;
I paid down the toll, and rode peevishly on :

I thought that the country look'd desert and bare,
For Mary the gate-keeper's daughter was gone.

I inquired of a peasant, who journey'd that way,
Where Mary was gone to! he bow'd his

grey

head:

He spoke not a word -- but I knew he would say
That Mary the gate-keeper's daughter was dead.
And sure 't was a fact; she lay in the grave-
Far far from the lovers who ardently sought her:
I remember'd the smiles she so prettily gave,
And wept when I thought of the gate-keeper's daughter.

The World.

THE world is bright before thee,
The summer flowers are thine;
Its calm blue sky is o'er thee,

Thy bosom pleasure's shrine:
And thine the sunbeam given
To nature's morning hour,
Pure warm as when from heaven
It burst on Eden's bower.

There is a song of sorrow,

The death-dirge of the gay, That tells ere dawn of morrow, The charm may melt away; The sun's bright beam be shaded, That sky be blue no more, The summer-flowers be faded, And youth's warm promise o'er.

Believe it not, though lonely

Thy evening home may be, That beauty's bark can only

Float on a summer's sea; Though time thy bloom is stealing, There's still beyond his art,

The wild-flower wreath of feeling,

The sunbeam of the heart!

Affection Changed.

By the friends we have lost, by the smile we can never

Again in life's loveliness view,

By the ties of attachment death only could sever
Till those ties we in heaven renew;

By the tears we have shed o'er the tomb of the cherish'd,
O'er days ne'er to bless us again;

Let us still give a sigh to the hope that has perish'd,
But a smile to the hopes which remain .

Oh! still as the circle of social affection

Of some valued heart is bereft,

While we treasure through life their beloved recollection, Let us cling to the few that are left:

Down our cheek while the tear-drop of anguish is stealing,
A solace e'en then it may prove

To view the sad glance of reciprocal feeling
When it beams from the eye that we love.

Oh! this is the charm which shall brighten to-morrow
With the joy that we cherish to-day;

'Tis the pilot who steadies our vessel of sorrow,
"T is the star which enlightens its way:
And, if e'er, o'er the sea of adversity driven,

That bark has no pilot to steer,

That star, beaming bright from the portals of heaven, Shall bid us seek fortitude there.

D