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That warmed his agued limbs; and, sad to see,
That shook him fiercely as he gazed on me.

I was confused in this unhappy view:
My wife! my friend! I could not think it true;
My children's mother,-my Alicia,-laid
On such a bed: so wretched, so afraid!
And her gay, young seducer, in the guise
Of all we dread, abjure, defy, despise,
And all the fear and terror in his look,
Still more my mind to its foundation shook.

At last he spoke :-'Long since I would have died, 'But could not leave her, though for death I sighed, And tried the poisoned cup, and dropped it as I tried, 'She is a woman, and that famished thing 'Makes her to life, with all its evils, cling:

'Feed her, and let her breathe her last in peace, 'And all my sufferings with your promise cease!' Ghastly he smiled :-I knew not what I felt,

But my

heart melted-hearts of flint would melt,
To see their anguish, penury, and shame,
How base, how low, how grovelling they became;
I could not speak my purpose, but my eyes,
And my expression-bade the creature rise.

Yet, O! that woman's look! my words are vain
Her mixed and troubled feelings to explain;
True there was shame and consciousness of fall,
But yet remembrance of my love withal,

And knowledge of that power which she would now recall.

But still the more that she to memory brought,
The greater anguish in my mind was wrought;
The more she tried to bring the past in view,
She greater horror on the present threw ;
So that, for love or pity, terror thrilled
My blood, and vile and odious thoughts instilled.
This war within, those passions in their strife.
If thus protracted, had exhausted life;
But the strong view of these departed years,
Caused a full burst of salutary tears,
And as I wept at large, and thought alone,
I felt my reason re-ascend her throne."

CHARLOTTE SMITH.

SONNET.

QUEEN of the silver bow, by thy pale beam
Alone and pensive I delight to stray,
And watch thy shadow trembling in the stream,
Or mark the floating clouds that cross thy way.
And while I gaze, thy mild and placid light
Sheds a soft calm upon my troubled breast ;
And oft I think, fair planet of the night,

That in thy orb the wretched may have rest; The sufferers of the earth perhaps may go, Released by death, to thy benignant sphere; And the sad children of despair and wo,

Forget, in thee, their cup of sorrow here.
O! that I soon may reach thy world serene,
Poor wearied pilgrim-in this toiling scene.

SOUTHEY.

MOONLIGHT.

How calmly gliding through the dark-blue sky, The midnight moon ascends! Her placid beams Through thinly scattered leaves and boughs grotesque ; Mottle with mazy shades the orchard slope;

Here, o'er the chesnut's fretted foliage gray,

And massy,

motionless they spread; here shine
Upon the crags, deepening with blacker night
Their chasms; and there the glittering argentry
Ripples and glances on the confluent streams
A lovelier, purer light than that of day
Rests on the hills; and oh how awfully
Into that deep and tranquil firmament,
The summits of Auseva rise serene!
The watchman on the battlements partakes

The stillness of the solemn hour; he feels
The silence of the earth, the endless sound
Of flowing water soothes him, and the stars,
Which, in that brightest moonlight well nigh quenched,
Scarce visible, as in the utmost depth

Of yonder sapphire infinite, are seen,
Draw on with elevating influence
Toward eternity the attempered mind.

Musing on worlds beyond the grave he stands,
And to the Virgin Mother silently,
Breathes forth her hymn of praise,

PELAYO MADE KING.

Alone, advanced

Before the ranks, the Goth in silence stood,
While from all voices round, loquacious joy
Mingled its buzz continuous with the blast
Of horn, shrill pipe, and tinkling cymbals' clash,
And sound of deafening drum. But when the Prince
Drew nigh, and Urban, with the cross upheld,
Stept forth to meet him, all at once were stilled
With instantaneous hush; as when the wind,
Before whose violent gusts the forest oaks,
Tossing like billows their tempestuous heads,
Roar like a raging sea, suspends its force,
And leaves so dead a calm that not a leaf
Moves on the silent spray. The passing air.
Bore with it from the woodland undisturbed
The ring-dove's wooing, and the quiet voice

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