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: shower of tears on her pillow as he kissed her pallid

cheek; then, seating himself by her side, he took her hand. Her languid eyes that moment were illumined with two streams of animated fire: he looked at her earnestly; they were rivetted eye to eye above an hour.* As he prayed to her and blessed her, she smiled with angel sweetness on his face. The convulsive agonies of death came on: the physician begged him to quit

the room; but she clasped his hand so hard, and gave s him a look of such expression, that he sobbed out, "Oh! impossible!"

Convulsions rent her delicate frame; she struggled, but still quitted not the hand of her father; at last, with the violent effort of pain, she raised herself on her bed, cried in agony—“now, now.” A smile played on her face as she murmured, “ I go-my sins are fora · given! Father, bless...."

With this last word she left her grasp, but left it not till the last breath of life had passed her lips, and the once-loved child was now cold and lifeless.

Hayward tore the father from the corpse. A hearse was ordered to convey the body to London, whither, in two days afterwards, they all set forward.

The procession was a sad one. The spirits of both were so dejected, that the friend, the benevolent, the good Hayward was unable to console the afflicted. He groaned inwardly at the melancholy scenes he had witnessed; yet such, said he to himself, are the daily consequences of unlawful love! and wilful man still per. severes.

ODB à CYNTHIB.

De la nuit pale souveraine,

Que l'amour invoque tout bas, Lorsque ta lueur incertaine

Vers le plaisir, guide ses pas:

Satisfais mon ame inquiète;

Divine Cynthie, apprens-moi, Si l'objet que mon cæur regrette,

Te prend pour témoin de sa foi.

Veille t'il quand ton règne sombre

Occupe la voute des cieux?

Aime-t'il à suivre des yeux, Le cours que tu traces dans l'ombre?

Errant dans ces climats lointains,

Où dardent les traits de ton frère,

Sait-il à sa vive lumière, Préférer tes feux argentins?

Ou dans la pompe d'une fête,

Fuit-il l'éclat de cent flambeaux,

Pour s'égarer sous les berceaux, Ou perce ta clarté discrète ?

ODE TO CYNTHIA.

“ As when the moon, refulgent lamp of night, .

O'er heaven's clear azure sheds her sacred light,
The conscious swains, rejoicing in the sight,
Eye the blue vault, and bless the useful light.”

Pope,

Pale regent of the midnight sky,

Whose soften'd beam allows the gaze
Of the wan lover's fixed eye,

As by the fav’ring glade he strays.

Say, does thy noon my love delight?

Does he salute thy rising ray?
And woo thy mild, auspicious light,

To muse on me.- sweet Cynthia, say?

Does he prefer thy sober reign

To all the charms of perfect day,
In that soft clime, whose jocund train

Rejoice in Sol's still fost’ring ray?

Where his warm beams delight to glow,

Reflected in each laughing eye,
In age, as youth, glad spirits flow,

Sweet produce of a cloudless sky.

Does he prefer thee, gentle queen,

To the gay taper's mimic glare,
That lightens up the festive scene,

Where sparkle all the blythe and fair.

Car l'amant fidele à ses veux,

En proie aux ennuis de l'absence,

Eprouve la douce influence, De tes rayons mysterieux.

De son soufle à peine zephire,

Trouble le calme qui te suit, Et ta marche seule interdit

Les faux plaisirs et le vain bruit,

D'une tendre mélancholie

Mon cour savoure les attraits,

Quand, dans le silence et le frais, Ton orbe à rever me convie,

Souvenir d'un époux chéri,

Rien alors ne vient te distraire;

En fixant l'astre qui l'éclaire, Je crois me rapprocher de lui.

Ah! quelle consolante idée !

Oui, Cynthie, en songeant à toi, De mon Edward la pensée

S'élance au même instant vers moi.

Pour suivant l'aimable chimère;

Nos ames franchissent les airs;

Et des deux bouts de l'univers, Vont s'unir dans ta sphère.

For, dear to love's abstracted thought

Is the soft radiance of thine eye;
Thy silver horn with calmness fraught,

Wild joys and frantic pleasures fly.

And, oh! congenial to my mind,

Thy rays their timid lustre shed; . To tender sadness oft inclin'd,

How soothing the pale day they spread!

Oh! in this hour of still repose,

When all the azure vault serene Thy lavely face unclouded shows,

Say, does my Edward view the scene?

Oh! let me think his pensive eye

On the same object fixt with mine;
Fond fancy, sweetest truth supply,

Then, Cynthia, in thy world we join.

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