Is far purer than Cupid bestows.

I wish not your peace to disturb,
I wish not your joys to molest,
Mistake not my passion for Love,
'Tis your friendship alone I request.

Not ten thousand lovers could feel
The friendship my bosom contains;
It will ever within my heart dwell,
While the warm blood flows through my veins.

May the ruler of heaven look down,
And my Mary from evil defend;
Mny she ne'er know adversity's frown,
May her happiness ne'er have an end.

Once more, my sweet Mary, adieu;
Farewell; I with anguish repeat,
For ever I'll think upon you,
While this heart in my bosom shall beat.

The Editor has subjoined a note, explaining his reason for printing
these "schoolboy rhymes," which, of course, is not for their literary
merit; still, in comparison with many of Lord Byron's after productions,
what the present want of head, others lack of heart, and this is a home
truth which his warmest admirers must acknowledge.

The Illustrations are varied and interesting. One of them--the Death of
the Dove, engraved by W. Finden, from a picture by T. Stewardson, is
remarkably expressive. The Ghaut, by E. Finden, after W. Daniell, is an
exquisite Oriental scene. The Frontispiece, Wilkie's Spanish Princess,
is finely engraved by R. Greaves; and Mr. H. Le Keux has done ample
justice to the Place de Jeanne d'Arc, Rouen, from a picturesque drawing,
by S. Prout: the lights and shadows being very effectively managed. But
we must be chary of our room, as we have other claimants at hand.

* * * * *

THE JUVENILE FORGET-ME-NOT.

This little work is a sort of _protege_ of _The Forget-Me-Not_, and is
by the same editor. It contains fifty pieces in verse and prose, and
eight pleasing plates and a vignette--all which will please the little
folks more than our description of them would their elders. Nearly all
of them contain several figures, but one--The Riding School--about
twenty boys _playing at Soldiers_, horse and foot, very pleasantly
illustrates an observation in a recent number of the Edinburgh Review,
on the dramatic character of the amusements of children. The scene is a
large, ancient, dilapidated building, and the little people personate
the Duke of Wellington, the Marquess of Anglesea, &c., with all the
precision of military tactics--but no one has a taste for being a
private. So it is through life.

Our extract is almo