dreams I pass my blighted youth.
Musing on vanished loveliness and bloom,
Man's dauntless courage, woman's changeless truth,
And scenes of joyous glee, or tranquil rest,
Shared with the early-lost--the bright--the blest.

Yet chide me not--mine is no impious grief,
Meekly I pray for Heaven's supporting grace.
And soon, I feel, his hand will give relief,
And the last sad survivor of her race
Quit this lone mansion for the home above.
Where dwell her happy family of love!

_Metropolitan._
* * * * *

CONVERSATIONS WITH LORD BYRON.

_BY THE COUNTESS OF BLESSINGTON_.

It is difficult to judge when Lord Byron is serious or not. He has
a habit of mystifying, that might impose upon many; but that can be
detected by examining his physiognomy; for a sort of mock gravity, now
and then broken by a malicious smile, betrays when he is speaking for
effect, and not giving utterance to his real sentiments. If he
sees that he is detected, he appears angry for a moment, and then
laughingly admits, that it amuses him to _hoax_ people, as he calls
it, and that when each person, at some future day, will give their
different statements of him, they will be so contradictory, that _all_
will be doubted,--an idea that gratifies him exceedingly! The mobility
of his nature is extraordinary, and makes him inconsistent in his
actions as well as in his conversation.

Byron spoke to-day in terms of high commendation of Hope's
"Anastasius;" said that he wept bitterly over many pages of it, and
for two reasons, first, that _he_ had not written it, and secondly,
that _Hope_ had; for that it was necessary to like a man excessively
to pardon his writing such a book--a book, as he said, excelling all
recent productions, as much in wit and talent, as in true pathos. He
added, that he would have given his two most approved poems to have
been the author of "Anastasius."

From "Anastasius" he wandered to the works of Mr. Galt, praised the
"Annals of the Parish" very highly, as also "the Entail," which we had
lent him, and some scenes of which he said had affected him very much.
"The characters in Mr. Galt's novels have an identity," added Byron,
"that reminds me of Wilkie's pictures."

As a woman, I felt proud of the homage he paid to the genius of Mrs.
Hemans, and as a passionate admirer of her poetry, I felt flattered,
at finding that Lord Byron fully sympathized with my admiration.