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ARIETTE. i

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ARIETTE. GIVE me thy heart, oh, -wandering Boy, And 1 will keep it in my bosom Like a wilful bird, And feed its life on rosy blossom Until tame and gentle grown, It learns a peaceful song of joy, • Sweeter than it ever heard From the singing of mine own. Though filled with love of land and sea, All careless o'er the world thou rovest, Thou hast not learned pleasure yet, For there is none, oh, soul, thou lovest, Cold of heart, though bright of brain; But come, and I shall girdle thee In such a little rosy net, Thou ne'er shalt wish to rove again. Come! trust me yet a little, come I long to touch what none has owned, Long to wake a silent spell Till, as a viol golden-toned. Stirs with its airy soul the strings Of one that lies untouched and dumb, With mine thy heart shall join its spell, And both shall blend their utterings.

LITTLE BELL.

HOUSE-HUNTING IN "WALES.—1845.

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