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AlThorgu the poetry of Lamb is greatly abore mediocrity, he is better known by a beautiful collection of sketches, under the signature of Elia, his Tales from Shakspeare, and other prose works, teeming with profound philosophy and criticism expressed in the happiest diction. He was born in London, on the 10th of February, 1775, and was educated in Christ's Hospital, after which he received a small appointment in the India House, where he rose by regular gradation during thirty years of service, when he was pensioned off with a comfort. able annuity. During this long period, however, his heart was in literature, and he published numerous essays, tales, and dissertations, and associated with several of the most distinguished authors of the day. He died on the 27th of December, 1834
DIALOGUE BETWEEN A MOTHER AND CHILD.
“O lady, lay your costly robes aside,
Wherefore to-day art singing in mine ear
O, mother, lay your *costly robes aside,
I pray thee, pretty one, now hold thy tongue,
One father fondled me upon his knee.
THE SABBATH BELLS.
The cheerful sabbath bells, wherever heard,
Whom thoughts abstruse or high have chanced to lure
VERSES FOR AN ALBUM.
Fresh clad from Heaven in robes of white,
And fruitless late Remorse doth trace,
Disjointed members—sense unknit-
Array'da half-angelic sightIn vests of pure Baptismal whiteThe mother to the Font doth bring The little helpless, nameless thing, With hushes soft and mild caressing, At once to get-a name and blessing. Close by the Babe the Priest doth standThe sacred water at his hand, Which must assoil the soul within From every stain of Adam's sin. The Infant eyes the mystic scenes, Nor knows what all this wonder means; And now he smiles, as if to say, “I am a Christian made this day;" Now, frighted, clings to Nurse's hold, Shrinking from the water cold, Whose virtues, rightly understood, Are, as Bethesda's waters, good.Strange words—the World, the Flesh, the DevilPoor babe, what can it know of evil? But we must silently adore Mysterious truths, and not explore. Enough for him, in after times, When he shall read these artless rhymes, If looking back upon this day With easy conscience he can say, “I have in part redeem'd the pledge Of my baptismal privilege ; And more and more will strive to flee All that my sponsors kind renounced for me."
We were two pretty babes, the youngest she,
Defiling with the world my virgin heart-
SUGGESTED BY A PICTURE OF TWO FEMALES BY LEONARDO DA TINCI.
The lady Blanch, regardless of all her lovers' fears, To the Urs’line convent hastens, and long the Abbess
hears. “O Blanch, my child, repent ye of the courtly life ye
lead. Blanch look d on a rose-bud and little seem'd to heed. She look'd on the rose-bud, she look'd round, and
thought On all her heart had whisper'd, and all the Nun had
taught. "I am worshipped by lovers, and brightly shines my
fame, All Christendom resoundeth the noble Blanch's name. Nor shall I quickly wither like the rose-bud from the
tree, My queen-like graces shining when my beauty's gone
from me. But when the sculptured marble is raised o'er my head, And the matchless Blanch lies lifeless among the noble
dead, This saintly lady Abbess hath made me justly fear, It would nothing well avail me that I were worshipp'd
ON THE PICTURES OF SALOME.
When painters would by art express
They show a steadfast cruel gaze,
QUEEN ORIANA'S DREAM.
On a bank with roses shaded,
Thus far, in magnific strain,