And warmed with his faithless beam,--
And will he be true to a pallid flower,
That floats on the quiet stream?

Alas for the Lily! she would not heed,
But turned to the skies afar,
And bared her breast to the trembling ray
That shot from the rising star;
The cloud came over the darkened sky,
And over the waters wide
She looked in vain through the beating rain,
And sank in the stormy tide.




ILLUSTRATION OF A PICTURE

"A SPANISH GIRL IN REVERIE,"

SHE twirled the string of golden beads,
That round her neck was hung,---
My grandsire's gift; the good old man
Loved girls when he was young;
And, bending lightly o'er the cord,
And turning half away,
With something like a youthful sigh,
Thus spoke the maiden gray:--

"Well, one may trail her silken robe,