A VALENTINE.
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Give ear, oh ye muses! our VOWS are paid Our offerings pure by the fount ain laid, And while in devotion we bow at each shrine, We pray ye to aid in Valentine. Erato ! be with us, the choice this day Calls a shower from Castalius, guide in our Jay, And heartfelt honors we II render to thee, As we bend by the fount the willing knee. But on whom in this wide world shall we praise be.

 stow

 Not for in thousand could tender thoughts flow. Shall they flow for the critic, whose arrogance bold Has encircled his heart with tyrant hold Whose vanity whispers all homage is paid, Full many heart at thy shrine is laid Ifthout speak-Nay speak not. the proud lip curls. We detest the man who would dupe the girls! Shall they flow for him who would kneel to please, Who receives dart from each lady he sees! Who would sooner abscond from the temperance Than lose ride with his ruling star! Nay I'll leave him to follow his destiny, For love.sick hearts not the heart for me For him who walks in the fa,terer's wiles Who sau,eS ,he ladies with mods and smiles, W uO V"uS uto uONic uI kISC uCuICul SSdtIUs And deals out the nostroms with skillul hand And now, pray forgive-but to make the rhyme, We mnsi aav hA knnws mt the nature of "linae." In the praises of one we ne'er could sing, For tickle heart he will ever bring; We'll diree: his eye to the gentle dove That dies, and knows not second love" Nor sing we for him oG the raven lock, Though those bright eyes of jet" nights moon

 might mock" Neither for him who wastes midnight oil, And passes the night.watch in constant toil. In coming the mysteries of Blackstone OCT, With thousand volumes of days of yore, There's cherished idol for that young heart, Twas Jenny that plunged the fatal dart. There's another-the youngest of noble sire, And beauty sits smiling. bright thoughts to inspire, But tis whispered selfish soul has he, And tyrant's heart is his destiny; His words say they for the law must go, Iris for none to ask why do ye so7' There's another-but no, hell never be mine Though "limb of the law" and pe, of the nine 1! His sonnets. 'tis true, are pithy and sweet; But designed for eject from their head to eir Jeet. His friends may be dear. but far dearer than all Is sweet POPULARITY, his heart to enthraIl. Iris rumored that love, with witchng power, Has found retreat in his classic bower. But e'er at the altar his VOWS are paid He must meet with perfection in earthly maid; Blu. no more with virtues we'll faults combine. Though alack, and alas his boots rarely shine! Yet, yet thele is one with noble brow, And that young form is before me now, And grace is stamped on that stately mien, And talent ha:h called him her own ween; The pure garb of virtue is OCT him thrown' But alas alas he is slightly known. It is he, it is he whom grace hath won, Whom virtue claims as favorite son, Whom talent hath marked with an eye of light, Who hath won all that's lovely and pure and bright; Deceit never lurked in that heart of thine, I'll send THEE, I'll send THEE this Valentine!

 