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From the Saturday Evening Post.

 TIE LAMENT.
tE LAMENT.

 TO AMANDA. Q tell me not of woman's love, Of woman's faithful heart: ~6es st thou yon moon so bright above, Seest thou that moon depart, So dazzios witching woman's smile, Thus changeabIe her mind; And c iier heart Is ftiii of guile, No VOWS can ever bind. Within shady silent dell,

 A lovely rose spied, ! lov'd that rose, loy'd 1t well, Street. rase tho..'rt mine ] cried, And o'er the biushing low'r hung, O agony to start, And find my breast with anguish wrung, A thorn within my heart. Then say not, that in woman's breast An earthly Heav'n doth dwell: eFor o that Heav'n, tho brightly bless'ds Hatil been to me hell For what more like hell can be, When at the gates of Heay'n. Then by thy hearts divinity, To be disgraced and driven. o tllrs was in isght of all

 That makes Paradise, !s1 N or CT thought SC soon alas to fall, To fall from love's bright skies" Beauty was hers---in her dark glance Of virtuous soul and sense, I saw my Heav 'nT-d elicious trance, Sweet child of innocence. \ loved her with fervor known To none but poets soul; loved her for those charms alone, Which time can ne'er c0ntrol; ! gazed upon her blushing cheek, With modesty inspired; T gazed upon her eye so mock, And faithfully admired. But ah. while thus with joy elate, hesy,d at beauty's throne, little thought the blast of fateY Had o'er my bosom blown; yiitne thought the shade of shame. Could on my bliss intrude, Or should own villains name, My heart solitude. A voiio voiioe tihs there came within her ear, And cried--Beware. bewarei Beware the spoiler he is near,

 His joy is thy despair; But 0, the dagger lies not there, Iris that she should believe, His heart a foe to virtue fair,

 That never candeceive. Iris past--her seal is on me set, libertine to be, We ne'er can meet as we have met, Her confidence in me Is lost forever--never moro siy iheart agaiii sii,siiii =iis,'is On woman, yet till time IS OCT, My soul shall still approve.

 MILFORD RARD.