ed at this time of her life, in his exquisite
description of Aurora Raby:--

'There was
Indeed a certain fair and fairy one,
Of the best class, and better than her class,--
Aurora Raby, a young star who shone
O'er life, too sweet an image for such glass;
A lovely being scarcely formed or moulded;
A rose with all its sweetest leaves yet folded.

. . . .

Early in years, and yet more infantine
In figure, she had something of sublime
In eyes which sadly shone as seraphs' shine;
All youth, but with an aspect beyond time;
Radiant and grave, as pitying man's decline;
Mournful, but mournful of another's crime,
She looked as if she sat by Eden's door,
And grieved for those who could return no more.

. . . .

She gazed upon a world she scarcely knew,
As seeking not to know it; silent, lone,
As grows a flower, thus quietly she grew,
And kept her heart serene within its zone.
There was awe in the homage which she drew;
Her spirit seemed as seated on a throne,
Apart from the surrounding world, and strong
In its own strength,--most strange in one so young!'

Some idea of the course which their acquaintance took, and of the manner
in which he was piqued into thinking of her, is given in a stanza or
two:--

'The dashing and proud air of Adeline
Imposed not upon her: she saw her blaze
Much as she would have seen a glow-worm shine;
Then turned unto the stars for loftier rays.
Juan was something she could not divine,
Being no sibyl in the new world's ways;
Yet she was nothing dazzled by the meteor,
Because she did not pin her faith on feature.

His fame too (for he had that kind of fame
Which sometimes plays the deuce with womankind,--
A heterogeneous mass of glorious blame,
Half virtues and whole vices being combined;
Faults which attract because they are not tame;
Follies tricked out so brightly that they blind),--
These seals upon her wax made no impression,
Such was her coldness or her self-possession.

Aurora sat with that indifference
Which piques a preux chevalier,--as it ought.
Of all offences, that's the worst offence
Which seems to hint you are not worth a thought.

. . . .

To his gay nothings, nothing