The Litchfield County post., 1828-05-01
From the Literary Sourenir.

 Commissioners $1,25
 From the literary Sourenir. THE STOLEN KISS A DRAMATIC SCENE.
 BY MISS NJ. R. MITFoRD.
 PersOnS-LEwIs AGNES.
 SCENE. The interior cfG ScOttish cottage, ia atter
 m .o~r. "oSr aking soith stayt from deep slass6er-a spinning M sgheeL bef0Ie her.l So! Mother, dict thou call? did not hear A voice, step sure Ehave slept! methought That Lewis, too, was here-'Tis but dream, One of those visions which possess the ;. Like firm realities. baseless dream! This sutry summer air, and weserng sun Hotter than noontide which lu!ls into rest Light whirring insects and gay chirplng birds, Joined to the drOwsy motion of the wheel, Monotonous instrument of quiet toil, Rocked me to sAumber like cradled babe. Now to my work again mother will chde 10 find the flax unspun. Now to my work! fH seGtng herse agGn Gt her aoheel, she glancss the Ro,oe,-pot in the aoindo,o. An; me! some nath plucked from out the jar My roses, my twin roses! the moss bud Intensely fragrant, and that wh!test rose ya And purest which unoids its spotless breast Like the queen lily to the What foot Hath stolen to this lone chamber? What bold hand Hath stretched across me as | slept? So only Theroses could be won. Not my dear mother She had reused the sleeper. Charles, perchance, My unthritt brother May, that merry boy Had ne'er restrained the loud and freq quent gush Of laughter, which springs up from his light heart Like music from the thrush. Young Lewis ?-Np! Oh, no! Not Lewis! How could he win here Despite the guardian eye of my fond Net watchfui mother! No. And wherefore come When have been strange thougn-No! No! Not Lewis! Yet last night he somewhat spake Of rich klnsman, whose heir he was, And how he bade him woo and wished him wed :- And then-but was coy, was very coy And yetmethought even now,-but twas dream; A silly dream false bewdering dream! tn n1Vsn tn onac cha acnt thpSn nvis
 [She sits to the ,cheel and singsl Turn, busy wheel; turn busy wheel, And pile upon the circIing reel
 A thread as fine and free, As that the insect artist weaves In autumn-mornngs, midst the leaves
 Ofyon old apple tree. < The moss-g own apple tree, The dewy, fmy apple tree. Turn, busy whei, turn swiftly round,. And blend with my wd song thy sound
 Ofpeaceful industry; s Such sound as loads the summer breeze, When gathering thelr sweet store, the bees
 Crowd yon broad linden tree,
 The bright green linden tree, The fowery, shadowy linden tree.
 AGNES Ha art thou there My mother Will hear the manly tead the clink of arms, And deem that l-
 Sweet Agues-
 Hush She'll know That voice of thine. Speak softly man,--or rather, Depart at once. If she should hear
 LEWIS wha, then? Shell chide
 And wherefore, sweet come On no i'll errand. What should make her wroth?
 AGNES. know not but depart. Thou knowest well Young gallants come not hther. sWend thy way, EnohI avia mo mot m 1neO hnnaa To seem uncivil. Go She hath full oft Forbidden-and she is right. Away! Thou know'st That she will chide.
 Not now. Eve seen her, Agnes i; My wealthy kinsman, he hath seen her too; And sle consents; and thou art mine.
 AGNES. Thou art confident, methinks. How knows thou, sir That am thine Say thatmy mother yield Her Fcrupes to thy kinsman's gold, what pledge Have | eer given? Thou hast been coyer, Agnes, Than the high danes of old romance, who held Their hearts ten years siege; hast shrunk away Eveu from my touch; hast summed my speech, hast With sweet confusion from my ardent gaze: Yet all unwittingy of thee hold A sacred pledge.-See here!
 [producing tsco roses from his bosom.
 My roses! weII'
  The very flowers of love!
 AGNES.
 # The flowers of love! Why thou myself art wild and ianciiuI As ever Paiadin or Dame of old, To deem that a free maiden may be won Even in the stealing ofa flower. Fic fife! | deemed thee wiser!
 LEWIS.
 Listen, maiden mine! Turn not away. but listen. Dost remember Last Lammas tide, when midst merry group At Donald Graham's, the forfeit game went round, And thou hadst pledged thy silver brooch the bright And massive silver brooch, that Isabel, Who cried the forfeits then, the frank and blunt Dame Isabel, proclaimed that whoso owned The trinket in her hand should bide kiss From James of Linloch Dost remember?
 AGNES.
 Yes No-yes-I dimly do remember me or what thou tell'st.
 LEWIS.
 Well, aud the forfeit drawn