SONG. With Reason to tutor him into his duty, 235 His plumage all clipped, (for he strove to be free,) They carried him far from the bower of beauty, To where a dark island arose on the sea. Love wept, for no longer, to soothe him, he heard Ianthe's soft voice or the song of his bird. One eve, as they gazed on the day that was dying, From the western pavilions of crimson and blue, The silver-winged dove through the sunset came flying, And bore from Ianthe a kind billet-doux. Both snatched at the darling, but said not a word While Love got the letter, and Reason the bird. SONG. BY RUFUS DAWES. "Tis the season of tender delight, The season of fresh-springing flowers; The green earth is covered with spangles of white, Glad Nature is loud in her transport of pleasure, The Westwind' how mildly he blows, The brook flowing softly among the green cresses Hear the minstrel-bee lulling the blossoms to rest, Look out then on Nature, awhile; Observe her inviting thee now, Benevolence beams in her sunshiny smile, And blandishment sits on her brow;— Come stray with me, love, where the fountains are flowing, And wild-flowers cluster to drink of the stream; While watching the lily and daffodil blowing, No moment of bliss shall so exquisite seem. When Nature invites thee, oh why then delay? While joy is still waking, away! love, away! THE ANNOYER 2237 THE ANNOYER. BY N. P. WILLIS. LOVE knoweth every form of air, He peeps into the warrior's heart And the serried spears and the many men He'll come to his tent in the weary night, And be busy in his dream; And he 'll float to his eye in the morning light, He hears the sound of the hunter's gun, And sighs in his ear like a stirring leaf, And flits in his woodland track, The shade of the wood and the sheen of the river The cloud and the open sky He will haunt them all with his subtle quiver, Like the light of your very eye. 238 THE ANNOYER. The fisher hangs over the leaning boat, For Love is under the surface hid, And a spell of thoughts has he. Till the bait is gone from the crafty line, He blurs the print of the scholar's book, In the darkest night and the bright daylight, In every home of the human thought, Will Love be lurking nigh. THE CORAL GROVE. 239 THE CORAL GROVE. BY J. G. PERCIVAL. DEEP in the wave is a Coral grove, But in bright and changeful beauty shine, Their boughs, where the tides and billows flow; The water is calm and still below, For the winds and waves are absent there, The sea-flag streams through the silent water, And the crimson leaf of the dulse is seen To blush, like a banner bathed in slaughter: There with a light and easy motion, The fan-coral sweeps through the clear deep sea; Is sporting amid those bowers of stone, |