art,
Calmer is _her_ gentle heart.
Yes! o'er fountain, vale, and grove,
Leaf and flower, hath gush'd her love;
But that passion, deep and true,
Knows not of a last adieu.

Types of lovelier forms than these,
In her fragile mould she sees;
Shadows of yet richer things,
Borne beside immortal springs,
Into fuller glory wrought,
Kindled by surpassing thought!

Therefore, in the lily's leaf,
She can read no word of grief;
O'er the woodbine she can dwell,
Murmuring not--Farewell! farewell!
And her dim, yet speaking eye,
Greets the violet solemnly.

Therefore, once, and yet again,
Strew them o'er her bed of pain;
From her chamber take the gloom,
With a light and flush of bloom:
So should one depart, who goes
Where no Death can touch the Rose!

_New Monthly Magazine._

* * * * *

STANZAS.

Oh! ask me not to sing to-night,

Oh! ask me not to sing to-night
Dejection chills my feeble powers,
I own thy halls of glittering light
Are festive as in former hours.
But when I last amid them moved,
I sung for friends beloved and dear,
Their smiles inspired, their lips approved,
Now all is changed--they are not here.

I gaze around--I view a throng,
The radiant slaves of pride and art.
Oh! can _they_ prize my simple song,
The soft low breathings of the, heart?
Take back the lute, its tuneful string
Is moisten'd by a sorrowing tear,
To-night, I may not, cannot sing
The friends that love me are not here!

_Ibid_.

* * * * *

THE LATE MADAME DE GENLIS.

The following smart account of the late Madame de Genlis, is translated
from that very piquant French paper the Figaro of the 4th January:--

She nearly died the day she came into the world; a mere chance saved
her; and the noble lady lived eighty-five years. What a misfortune, not
only for the Ducrest and the Genlis, if the clumsy Bailiff who sat down
in the arm-chair where the infant prodigy had been left by the careless
nurse, had crushed under the ample and heavy developement of his various
femoral muscles, the hope of French literature! The concussion would
have despoiled us of a hundred volumes, and Heaven can witness what
volumes! History in romances; morality in proverbs; and religion in
comedies. This is what the world of letters would have lost,--society
would have lost a very differ