EDITORIAL NOTE TO POETRY

flame ne'er cease. Creature of merry jest And favourite near and far, Pious with kindness blest, Amorosissima! What broke so soon the chain, What does your heart deplore? And who, pray, would not fain, If you loved him, adore?— You're mute, but from your eye, The tear-drop is not far, You're mute: you'll yearn and die, Amorosissima? THE LITTLE BRIG NAMED "LITTLE ANGEL"³³ "Little Angel" call they me!— Now a ship, but once a girl, Ah, and still too much a girl! My steering-wheel, so bright to see, But for sake of love doth whirl. "Little Angel" call they me, With hundred flags