Maimoune.

jjer voice or Music wander d through men ' s ears , And when most mirthful , fill'd their eyes with tears . Badoura ! fair Badoura ! would thy charms Ml"ht float before my bliss-bewilder'd

vision ! Would I might' once enfold thee in my arms , And fancy thou wert mine in dreams Elysian ! I think I then could laugh at Care ' s

alarms , And hold the bluest devils in derision ; For ever could we live ( my Muse and I ) On the remembrance of that ecstacy .

I own it has not been my boyhood ' s lot To fall in love so often as is common ; Jly early flames were speedily forgot , Replac'd but slowly ; though the name of woman Has always occupied a decent spot In my affectionsand I'm sure that no

, man Can write more highly than I wrote of late Of the enjoyments of the married state *

But , though I grieve extremely to declare it , I Feel bound to tell what I esteem the truth : That female beauty is , in fact , a rarity E ' en in the gay , unwrinkled cheeks of youth .

In number , as in charms , there ' s a disparity Between the plain and pretty , and in sooth I meet , at present , with few female eyes Whose smiles remind me much of Paradise .

Yet have I dwelt , for many a pleasant week , in A land whose women are the boast of fame ; Hail to the peerless belles around the Wrekin !

Hail to each wedded and unwedded dame ! Though reall y ( unpoetically speaking ) With three exceptions , whom I dare not name ,

I wouldn ' t give the value of a gooseberry For all the beauty that I ' ve found in S Oh ! gentle Lady , with the dark-brown hair Braided above thy melancholy eyes , And pale thin cheek so delicately fair , And voice so full of woman ' s sympathies ;

Woe for thy beauty ; the fell demon , Care , Too soon hath made thy tender heart his prize ; Too soon those smiles , which ever and

anon Threw sunshine o ' er thy loveliness , are gone . Lonely art thou amid the fluttering crowd That throngs the gay and gilded drawing-room ;

For aye enwrapt and darken'd in a cloud Of cheerless and impenetrable gloom . The heartless glances of the gay and proud Which dwelt so rudely on thy beauty's bloom , Pass thy pale cheek unheeding , and despise The dimness of thy sorrow-speaking eyes .

Yet when perchance a happier maid hath woken The sweetness of some old-remember'd air , Whose touching music to thy heart hath spoken

Of the old days that were so passing fair : I ' ve seen the spell that hangs around thee broken By rising visions of the things that were ;

And thy faint blush and gushing tears have told That crush'd affections have not yet grown cold .

But oh ! to be most lovely and most lov'd , Iu thy calm hour of dreaming solitude ; When I have tracked thy footsteps as they rov'd Through the thick mazes of the tangled wood ; d

Or to sweet sadness by thy story mov' , By thy fair side , in mute attention , stood , Still in thine eyes my lovesick bosom sunning—But where the d is my fancy running 1 { To be Continued . )