DEAREST LOVE! BELIEVE ME.

DEAREST love! believe me,

Though all else depart, Nought shall e'er deceive thee

In this faithful heart: Beauty may be blighted,

Youth must pass away, But the vows we plighted

Ne'er shall know decay.

Tempests may assail us

From affliction's coast, Fortune's breeze may fail us

When we need it most; Fairest hopes may perish,

Firmest friends may change ; But the love we cherish

Nothing shall estrange.

Dreams of fame and grandeur

End in bitter tears;
Love grows only fonder

With the lapse of years :
Time, and change, and trouble,

Weaker ties unbind,
But the bands redouble
True affection twined.

Thomas Pringle.

Thou lingering star, with lessening ray,

That lov'st to greet the early morn, Again thou usherest in the day My Mary from my soul was torn.

TO MARY IN HEAVEN.

Oh, Mary! dear departed shade!

Where is thy place of blissful rest ? See'st thou thy lover lowly laid ?

Hear'st thou the groans that rend his breast ?

That sacred hour can I forget?

('an I forget the hallow'd grove Where by the winding Ayr we met

To live one day of parting love ? Eternity will not efface

Those records dear of transports past ! Thy image at our last embrace

Ah ! little thought we 'twas our last !

Ayr, gurgling, kiss'd his pebbled shore,

O'erhung with wild woods, thickening green ; The fragrant birch, and hawthorn hoar,

Twined amorous round the raptured scene. The flowers sprung wanton to be press'd,

The birds sung love on every spray, Till too, too soon, the glowing west

Proclaim'd the speed of winged day.

Still o'er these scenes my memory wakes,

And fondly broods, with miser care; Time but the impression deeper makes,

As streams their channels deeper wear. My Mary! dear departed shade!

Where is thy place of blissful rest ? See'st thou thy lover lowly laid ? Hear'st thou the groans that rend his breast ?

Robert Burns Ah, no! I cannot say

“Farewell,” 'Twould pierce my bosom through ; And to this heart 'twere death's dread knell, To hear thee sigh

- Adieu.”
Though soul and body both must part,

Yet ne'er from thee I'll sever,
For more to me than soul thou art,
And oh! I'll quit thee never.

AH, NO! I CANNOT SAY “FAREWELL.”

Whate'er through life may be thy fate,

That fate with thee I'll share,
If prosperous, be moderate,

If adverse, meekly bear ;
This bosom shall thy pillow be,

In every change whatever,
And tear for tear I'll shed with thee,

But oh! forsake thee, never.

One home, one hearth, shall ours be still,

And one our daily fare;
One altar, too, where we may kneel,

And breathe our humble prayer ;
And one our praise, that shall ascend

To one all-bounteous Giver ;
And one our will, our aim, our end,

For oh! we'll sunder never.

And when that solemn hour shall come,

That sees thee breathe thy last,
That hour shall also fix my doom,

And seal my eyelids fast.
One grave shall hold us side by side,

One shroud our clay shall cover ;
And one then may we mount and glide,
Through realms of love, for ever.

Alexander Rollyer.