Page:The Lady's Book Vol. V.pdf/3

 EXPLANATION OF THE ENGRAVING.

EVENING DRESS:

Ir is composed of rose-coloured Donna Marla gauze, over satin 10 corréspond. The corsage, cut very low, is dieposea in” folds round the upper part. of the bust. Those behind are arranged in a straight line acroes; those in front are disposed en demi Cour. The corsage is bordered with narrow blond lace; which stands up round the bust. Bouffant sleeve, very.mech puffed out on the shoulder, The skirt ig trimmed with three bande of iris velvet, each edged on one side with blond Jace, set on plain. The hair is parted on the forehead, and disposed in loose full curls, which hang as low as the throat. “The hind hair is platted, and forms a demi{ Grecian knot, which is ornamented with purses full datiask tosés plased.b behind. The ear-rings, bracelets, and neckchain are of bright gold, finely chased. ..

HOME DRESS.

It is of terre de Pologne gros de Naples. ‘The corsage is cut low, plaiti behliid, and fi crossed drapery in front. Long. Sleeves, slashed in the Spanish style at the upper part; the slashes are edged with biué satin, and trimmed with. Toouds. ds. Page of blue riband shot with white, which protrude through them. The chemisette }s of tulle}. it comes very high in front; and is bordered with blond lace. The cap ts composed-of blond lace; the trimming of the front turns back, paftially, and 18 intermingled with knots of blue gauze riband. The caul is of the capote shape, and ornamented with a blond dace drapery: The infant's dress ia of cambric, richly embroidered round the bust, and the border of the skirt. The sashand Cone gett are of green aa riband, and the cap of English lace. ”

THE MIND.

BY CHARLES SWAIN. Oh! thou mysterious and eternal mind! - Haply I sing of thee but as a bird, Whose lonely notes float feebly on the wind, Passing away unnoticed or unheard: - But, oh! had I the energy of word, The eloquence to utter all I feel, The gift - the power to grasp thought like a sword, And what I know as I could wish reveal: - My song should find a voice deep as the thunder's peal!

Exquisite spirit! -if thine aspect here Is so magnificent; -if on earth thou art Thus admirable; -in thy sainted sphere, What newer glories wilt thou not impart? What powers - what unknown faculties may dart Like sunlight through the heaven of thy mould! - What rich endowments into life may start! - What hidden splendours may'st thou not unfold- Which earthly eyes ne'er view'd - which human tongue ne'er told.

When time stands mute before eternity, And the god - gifted mind, new filled with light From living fountains, glorified and free, Soars in transcendent majesty and might; An angel in its first immortal flight! - Gazing upon the heaven of heavens, to find The bliss of wings! -the ecstacy of sight! -- A glory amidst glories of its kind ! A disembodied soul! -a re-created mind! -

Then - and then only - may the clouds that hide The stars of inspiration burst away; Then may the gates of knowledge open wide , And genius find its own eternal ray: - Oh! for the coming of that future day! — The spirit - light - the intellectual dower- The melody of that undying lay- The bliss - the bloom of that Elysian bower- When time shall breathe no more! -when tombs have lost their power!

TO A JEWESS OF ALTONA.

BY THOMAS CAMPBELL. Oh, Judith! had our lot been cast In that remote and simple time, When shepherd swains, thy fathers pass'd From dreary wilds and deserts vast, To Judah's happy climes; -

My song upon the mountain rocks, Had echoed oft thy rural charms, And I had fed thy father's flocks, Oh, Judith of the raven locks, To win thee to my arms!

Our tent, beside the murmur calm Of Jordan's grassy vested shore, Had sought the shadow of the palm, And blest with Gilead's holy balm Our hospitable door.

At falling night, or ruby dawn , Or yellow moonlight's welcome cool , With health and gladness we had drawn , From silver fountains on the lawn , Our pitcher brimming full.

How sweet to us at sober hours The bird of Salem would have sung, In orange or in almond bowers- Fresh with the bloom of many flowers, Like thee, for ever young!

But ah, my love! thy father's land— It sheds no more a spicy bloom, Nor fills with fruit the reaper's hand! But wide its silent wilds expand, A desert and a tomb!

Yet, by the good and golden hours That dawn'd those rosy fields among- By Zion's palm - encircled towers— By Salem's far forsaken bowers, And long - forgotten song.