charm of twilight loveliness.

Those eyes are mirror of thy soul;
As in the waves that deeply roll,
The sun and moon and stars are seen,
Reflected with undimmed sheen.

Thus in the depths of those fair eyes,
I see the brightness of the skies,
I would my image there might shine
In orbs so blessed and divine.

ON HEARING THAT MY LOVE WAS ANGRY.

Sweet love! and wast thou angry then,
And did a lovely frown,
O'ershade that brow of whitest pearl,
That cheek of softest down?

Nay, be not so; thou can'st not be,
Less lovely to my sight;
Though darkness shade the cliff and vale,
Yet starry is the night!

TO A POET.

O poet, would'st thou make a name
That ne'er will die,
But be coeval with the lights
In yonder sky?

Strike not a single, trembling chord,
In the heart-lyre;
But wake the full and sweet accord
Of every wire.

Of joy, of grief, of hopeless love
And pining care,
Of terror, pain, and deep remorse,
And wild despair.

Of Hope, of Faith, of Piety:
Each fibre move;
But yet the sweetest note shall be
The note of Love.

Strike! poet! strike each quiv'ring chord,
In that strange lyre,
Then, men thy golden songs will hoard,
Till time expire.

THE CHILD'S PRAYER.

O Lord, I kneel at mother's knee,
And lift my trembling heart to thee.
Send down thy grace, I meekly pray,
To drive my evil thoughts away:
Alas! even now I feel my heart,
From God is learning to depart.

But Thou, even now, canst change my heart,
For very good, O God, thou art;
And thou can'st give me ample grace,
To run aright my earthly race;
Nor wander whither I must die,
Far from the comfort of Thine eye.

Yes Lord! I beg thy Heavenly love,
To fit me for a home above;
That I may sing the anthems sweet
Where pardon'd children all shall meet;
And that on earth my walk may be,
O God, forever nigh to Thee.

CRITICUS.

The Southern Muse--so long with drooping wing,--
The Southern Muse, alas! too sad to sing--
Her fair head drooped and dim her mournful eye,
While pitying breezes sighed in sorrow by,--
At last--at last--a wondrous friend has found,
Whose power shall make her through all time renowned:
Oh! now to her what magic shall belong,
To charm the nations with a peerless song!

Hail Criticus! thou marvel of the age!
Oh! thou wilt fire her with a noble rage!
Oh! thou her song wilt kindly patronize,
And make her honored in the nation's eyes.

Oh! g