Cannot the heavens with their lucid stars
Dispel the clouds that hover o'er thy soul?

Juan. What is the moon with all her fairy beams,
Compared to thy chaste face?-Or the bright stars?
Oh, can they equal or surpass those eyes
That dwell within the heaven of thy brow?
Can she or they, bequeath their love to me,
Or make thee mine unfetter'd by all power?
If she cannot do this, what to me's the moon,
Save when she lights my mistress to her couch?
She cannot make me love thee more to-morrow:
What says the adage,-'morrow, never comes-
If thou dost love, talk not of to-morrow!

Sephia. If not to-morrow-let it be to day,
For, the day is born, that was to-morrow.
Lo! how the moon flies from the fiery orb
That disenthrals the gloomy cloak of night;
And the stars, as if fearful mortal eye

Should ken their existence, sink to their tombs
Like airy bubbles on the prattling lake;

While the young day, peeps through her ruddy veil,
Laughing at lovers-children of the moon!

See, how the mists, crescent yon mountain's brow,
That like a haughty beauty keeps her head
Stately and self-willed o'er her dwarfish court;
And how the sun jewels every cloud,

While opening flowers, through nature's tears,
Smile on the heaven-born orb a glorious welcome.

Has not yesterday-lately but to-day,

Been a true harbinger to thy fretful hopes :

And to-day, so recent-but to-morrow,

Cancell❜d those hopes, and eased thee of thy care?

Juan. 'Tis but the mern; the night has yet to come: And many troubles, love, may yet appear

In the lapse between.

Sephia.

So will ev'ry day

That is in fair perspective, if we moan

At the birth of each! Has the dark wither'd,
And art thou, thou bird of night, still hooting?

Juan. Call'st thou me owl, then am I'wise to doubt,

Wiser than thou, my pretty nightingale,
(Singing so sweetly from thy trellis'd cage,)
He being Mentor of the goddess Nox.

Sephia. I am no bird of night! I am the lark
That ushers in the music of the morn;

The earthly cherub of a wicked world.

Juan. Call it not wicked, while my lark still sings; And while it sings, I still must linger here,

And like the swan die listening to its mate!

Sephia. Canst thou not live?
Juan.

Aye, if so thou bid'st me.

Sephia. But if I bid thee not?

Juan.

Then I will live

If I bid thee not

Till thou shalt bid me die.
Sephia.

Do either of the deeds-how wilt thou act?
Juan. Think I am dead, if absent from thyself,
Yet, still remember, that a word from thee,
A letter, flower, stone, or lock of hair,
Will animate this form, to live again
At bidding of my love; or I will linger
Round this cruel mansion, keeping my lark
A prisoner in its cage, and the sweet thought
Of being near to thee shall keep my heart
From ebbing into death!

Sephia.
Juan, farewell,
For day will waken argus-ey'd domestics!
Oh, why not act the echo to my wish,

And say adieu, when I bid thee farewell?

Juan. Because I would have thee repeat the wordSephia. What! and grow pat in sighing of farewell? Is parting then so sweet, that thou would'st have Me prattle it so oft?

Juan.

No, but 'tis sweet To linger on the sound-and not replying, Hear thy voice again!

Sephia.

Flattering Juan,

Why dost thou make me truant to thy cause; And by thus loitering here, perhaps kill thee? 'Mine uncle loves thee not.

Juan.

Sephia, his niece,

Denies not that she does: why should I care
For thine uncle's favour?
Sephia.

But his revenge

And hate of thee might all our wooings end,
If he dreamed we loved, Once more, farewell!
Juan. Sweet, farewell!-farewell! but give thy
response

In returning accents.

Sephia.

Ah me!-Adieu !

Juan. That is too short, and abridges parting!
Sephia. Thou wilt remember to return at eve?
Juan. Remember?-Lovers have long memories,
And ne'er forget to meet e'en tho' unbid.
Sephia. Farewell!

Juan.

Breathe it once more, that I may catch The strain, and place it in my heart to whisper peace. Sephia,-breathe that word again, and steep My senses in melodious accents!

Sephia. Farewell, if thou wilt have it so? Again,

Farewell! I live on thy return.

Juan. Return!.

[Eait.

Hush! did she bid bid me stay? or was't the murmur Of th' envious leaves, that caught the cadence

As if it pass'd her lips, to breathe the word once more? Sephia. (Re-entering.) Juan?

Juan.

Sephia.

'Twas her!-Well! Nothing-but adieu ! (Aside.) If I say more, he will not hence to day, Therefore I'll watch and bid farewell with sight, And picture Juan on my aching eyes!

Juan. Again 'tis silent!-All is wither'd now,
Since she has left the scene of whisper'd oaths,
And made the day more dusky than the night!
I but delude myself, and wish to hear,
For aye, the enchantress' word. Sephia,
My treasur'd idol, but a short farewell!

[Exit.

Sephia. (After a pause.) Juan ?-Juan ?-Speak! Art

thou gone my love?

Ah, me! 'tis so-then flow'rs and birds are dead:
And all are petrified, since thou'rt away!

[Exit.

F. C. N.

THE SPELL.

In those happy days, (now, unfortunately, long past,) in which fairies exercised their all-powerful influence over human affairs, there lived a prince and princess. The land in which they lived is of no importance to the present history, and if it were, the ignorance and negligence of modern geographers is so great, that we should be unable accurately to point out the quarter of the globe in which their dominions were situated. It is enough for our immediate purpose to say that they possessed an extensive territory, great wealth, were amiable, and as happy as they deserved to be. Uninterrupted happiness, however, is not, and as it never has been, we may reasonably conclude that it never will be, the lot of mortals. The prince had been compelled, in the administration of law in his realm, to inflict a capital punishment on a notorious robber and malefactor, whose crimes had long required that he should be made an example to the community. By the help of a powerful fairy, whose name is too barbarous to be transcribed or pronounced, but which may be interpreted by the English compound word, Toad's-gall, and whose disposition was as bitter and as venomous as that appellation implied, he had for a long time contrived to escape the pursuit of justice. Common report said he was her son, but whether he had any other affinity than a similarity of temper, is more than can at this distance of time be ascertained. Frequently when he had been in the hands of the executioner, he had suddenly disappeared, no one knew whither-and often the heaviest bolts and fetters, and the most secure prisons, had been insufficient to detain him. The spells of the fairy had served him so well that he grew careless in his confidence. He had ventured to the metropolis with the intention of robbing the religious temple of Bramnu, and having effected this object, he drank so deeply of the sacred wine, that he fell asleep and was detected in the morning by the priests, who came in to perform the matin

Published Oct. 1 1828. by James Robins, & Co Ivy Lane London