elicity, noted the same effect. I give his Text
and Commentary; they occur in his beautiful poem, "Human Life,"
speaking of a girl in love, he says:

"--soon her looks the rapturous truth avow,
Lovely before, oh, say how lovely now!"

On which he afterwards remarks:

"Is it not true that the young not only appear to be, but really
are, most beautiful in the presence of those they love? It calls
forth all their beauty."

Such a coincidence might almost induce me to exclaim with the
plagiarising pedant of antiquity, "_Pereant qui ante nos nostra
dixerunt_!"

ANECDOTE VERSIFIED.

_Lord Albemarle to Mademoiselle Gaucher, on seeing her look very
earnestly at the Evening Star_.

Oh! do not gaze upon that star,
That distant star, so earnestly,
If thou would'st not my pleasure mar--
For ah! I cannot give it thee.[3]

And, such is my unbounded love,
Thou should'st not gaze upon a thing
I would not make thee mistress of,
And prove in love, at least, a _King_!

[3] Lord Albemarle, when advanced in years, was the lover and
protector of Mademoiselle Gaucher. Her name of infancy, and that
by which she was more endeared to her admirer, was Lolotte. One
evening, as they were walking together, perceiving her eyes
fixed on a star, he said to her, "Do not look at it so
earnestly, my dear, I cannot give it you!"--Never, says
Marmontel, did love express itself more delicately.

STANZAS TO THE SHADE OF ----

_In thoughts from the visions of the night, when deep sleep falleth on
men,--an image was before mine eyes; there was silence, and I heard a
voice_. JOB iv. 13.

Reproach me not, beloved shade!
Nor think thy memory less I prize;
The smiles that o'er my features play'd,
But hid my pangs from vulgar eyes.
I acted like the worldling boy,
With heart to every feeling vain:
I smil'd with all, yet felt no joy;
I wept with all, yet felt no pain,

No--though, to veil thoughts of gloom,
I seem'd to twine Joy's rosy wreath,
'Twas but as flowerets o'er a tomb.
Which only hide the woe beneath.
I lose no portion of my woes,
Although my tears in secret flow;
More green and fresh the verdure grows,
Where the cold streams run hid below.

A MODEST ODE TO FORTUNE.

"_Et genus et formam regina pecunia donat_." HOR.

O Goddess Fortune, hear my prayer,
And make a bard for once thy care!
I do n