TO THE VIRGIN.

FROM THE SPANISH OF THE ARCH-PRIEST OF HITA

THE EAR-RINGS.

O, MY ear-rings, my ear-rings;
'Twas thus a maiden sung,
A fair and lovely maiden,

With a gentle northern tongue;
O, my ear-rings, my ear-rings,
I've dropt them in the well,
And what to say to my true love,
I cannot, cannot tell;

The tittering damsels, as I go,
They say both free and loud,
Young William gave these ear-rings,
And Miss may well be proud-
He gave to her these ear-rings,
Her sallow neck to touch

A little with their lustre,

And her beauty needs it much.

My love gave me these costly rings,
My plighted vow to keep,

And there they glitter in the well,

I wot three fathom deep;

He gave to me these splendid gems,

To sparkle on my neck,

And there they lie-my heart is stone,

Else it would surely break.

PUBLISHED OCT. 1.1828 BY JOHN SHARPE. LONDON..

I wore them at the market,

In the dance they threw a spell On all the lads who saw them,

And my looks became them well. My love gave me these precious rings, And gave me, little loth,

At parting, such a heart-warm kiss, 'Twas richly worth them both.

A kiss, alas! is but a touch,

The rings no more will shine

Around me in their glory,

And my love will ne'er be mine.

Mute sat the pensive maiden,

When there came a man and drew

Her, shining in her beauty,

Like a star amid the dew.

A painter good, a critic shrewd,
A poet bold was he,

Who has not heard, who has not read,

Of Martin Arthur Shee?

THE FISHER'S CALL.

BY THOMAS DOUBLEDAY, ESQ.

THE thorn is in the bud,

The palm is in the blossom,
The primrose, in the shade,
Unfolds her dewy bosom ;