giving an angel to angels' caressing:
Thy love to my heart was ever dear,
With thy gentle voice and thy brave endeavour;
Though briefly we wandered together here,
Two souls were cemented with smile and tear,
That, one on earth, will be one for ever.

E. H. R.

DIED NOVEMBER 30TH, 1867.

She came in beauty like the sun,
And flusht with hope each heart and eye,
As roses redden into life
When Summer passes by.

And like the sun she calmly set,
With love's own golden glory crown'd,
In light whose rays for evermore
In mem'ry will abound.

A. R.

DIED APRIL 21ST, 1865.

In silent grief the blow we'll bear:
Though gone, with us she'll still abide.
Her name a shape of love will wear,
In viewless influence by our side.

MISCELLANEOUS POEMS.

VENUS AND ASTERY

A LEGEND OF THE GODS. (_a_)

Ah! hapless nymph! Doomed for a time to bear
The badge which none but fickle lives should wear.
How oft the envious tongue creates the dart
That cleaves the saintly soul and breaks the heart:
How oft the hasty ear full credence gives
To words in which no grain of truth survives:
Were Juno just, her heart would now delight
Turning thy dappled wings to waxen white,
Where jealous Venus and her envious train
By falsehood fixed an undeserved stain.

(_a_) Astery, one of the most beautiful of Venus's nymphs, and, as
Spenser says,

"Excelling all the crew
In courteous usage and unstained hue,"

Is said to have been instructed "on a day" by her mistress to go forth
with her companions gathering flowers with which to adorn her forehead.
She did so, and being more industrious than the rest, gathered more
flowers than any of them. On being praised by Venus, her companions,
being envious of her, told the goddess that Astery had been assisted by
Cupid, Venus's son, in culling the blossoms. For this supposed offence
she was immediately turned by Venus into a butterfly, and her wings,
which before were white, were stained with the colours of all the
flowers she had gathered, "for memory of her pretended crime, though
crime none were."--_Spenser's "Muiopotmos"_, 1576.

TO A ROYAL MOURNER.

1864.

'Twere wise, O Queen, to let thy features shine
Upon thy faithful people once again;
As Summer comes to light the paths of men,
So would thy presence round our hearts entwine.

It is not meet our Queen of Q