SUMMER LONGINGS.

АH! my heart is weary waiting;
Waiting for the May.-

Waiting for the pleasant rambles, Where the fragrant hawthorn brambles,

With the woodbine alternating,
Scent the dewy way.

Ah! my heart is weary waiting,-
Waiting for the May.

Ah! my heart is sick with longing,
Longing for the May,-

Longing to escape from study,
To the young face fair and ruddy,
And the thousand charms belong-
ing

To the summer's day.

Ah! my heart is sick with longing,
Longing for the May.

Ah! my heart is sore with sighing,
Sighing for the May,―

Sighing for their sure returning,
When the summer beams are burn-

ing,

Hopes and flowers that, dead or dying,

All the winter lay.

Ah! my heart is sore with sighing,
Sighing for the May.

Ah! my heart is pained with throb-
bing,

Throbbing for the May,-
Throbbing for the seaside billows,
Or the water-wooing willows;

Where, in laughing and in sobbing,
Glide the streams away.

Ah! my heart, my heart is throb-
bing,

Throbbing for the May.

Waiting sad, dejected, weary,
Waiting for the May:

Spring goes by with wasted warnings; Moonlit evenings, sunbright mornings,

Summer comes, yet dark and dreary
Life still ebbs away;

Man is ever weary, weary,
Waiting for the May!

But thoughts of slaughter past, and blood-stained fields,

Mar not the joys that gorgeous banquet yields;

Sparkles in cups of gold rich Cyprian wine,

Melts the Greek fig, the grapes of
Ora shine;
Pears from fair Bactria vie with Ker-
man's peach,

And fruit from climes e'en Greeks have failed to reach Hot Indian Isles, to Scythia's mountain snows,

Each luscious orb on plates of crystal glows.

Hark! in the gilded gallery, flute and lyre!

Strains soft as sighs of streaming love respire;

Then harp and sackbut bolder notes ring out,

Like victory's pæan o'er some army's rout.

And thus they revel; mirth and joy control

The sterner thoughts, the high aspiring soul;

And e'en the slaves, in sumptuous garments dressed,

Forget their toils to see their lords so blessed.

But what young beauty leans beside the king,

tresses spread;

A spangled zone her Grecian robe confines,

Bright on her breast a costly diamond shines,

But oh, more bright, that eye's en

trancing ray

Melts where it falls, and steals the soul away!

lowly wind-flowers gaudier plants eclipse. lips. And pensile harebells with their dewy There turns the heliotrope to court the sun,

And up green stalks the starry jasmines run:

The hyacinth in tender pink outvies Beauty's soft cheek, and violets match her eyes; Sweet breathe the henna flowers that harem girls

So love to twine among their glossy curls;

And here the purple pansy springs to birth,

Like some gay insect rising from the earth.