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-Tis she, 't is she herself! she waves her hand! Yet has she fled the life of bliss below,
And now in joy she dwells, in glory moves !
(Glory and joy reserved for you to share.)
Far, far more blest in blessing those she loves
Than they, alas! unconscious of her care.
ON A TEAR
Oh! that the Chemist's magic art
Could crystallize this sacred treasure !
Long should it glitter near my heart,
A secret source of pensive pleasure.
The little brilliant, ere it fell,
Its lustre caught from Chloe's eye ;
Then, trembling, left its coral cell-
The spring of Sensibility!
Sweet drop of pure and pearly light!
In thee the rays of Virtue shine ;
More calmly clear, more mildly bright, Full many a pathway cross'd the green;
Than any gem that gilds the mine.
Benign restorer of the soul !
Who ever fly'st to bring relief,
When first we feel the rude control
Of Love or Pity, Joy or Grief.
The sage's and the poet's theme,
In every clime, in every age;.
Thou charm'st in Fancy's idle dream,
In Reason's philosophic page.
That very law' which moulds a tear,
And bids it trickle from its source,
That law preserves the earth a sphere,
And guides the planets in their course.
TO A VOICE THAT HAD BEEN LOST.'
Vane, quid affectas faciem mihi ponere, pictor ?
Et, si vis similem pingere, pinge sonum. Ausonius.
ONCE more, Enchantress of the soul, Look in each other's face, and melt in tears.
Once more we hail thy soft control. Well may you shun all counsel, all relief.
-Yet whither, whither didst thou fly? Oh she was great in mind, though young in years ! To what bright region of the sky ?
Say, in what distant star to dwell ? Changed is that lovely countenance, which shed (Of other worlds thou seem'st to tell) Light when she spoke, and kindled sweet surprise, Or trembling, fluttering here below, As o'er her frame each warm emotion spread,
Resolved and unresolved to go, Play'd round her lips, and sparkled in her eyes.
In secret didst thou still impart
Thy raptures to the pure in heart? Those lips so pure, that moved but to persuade
Perhaps 10 many a desert shore, Still to the last enliven'd and endear'd.
Thee, in his rage, the Tempest bore; Those eyes at once her secret soul convey'd,
Thy broken murmurs swept along, And ever beam'd delight when you appear’d.
'Mid Echoes yet untuned by song ;
1 On the death of a younger sister.
1 The law of gravitation.
2 In the winter of 1805
Arrested in the realms of Frost,
Yet round her couch indulgent Fancy drew Or in the wilds of Ether lost.
The kindred forms her closing eye required. Far happier thou! 'twas thine to soar There didst thou stand—there, with the smile she Careering on the winged wind.
knew, Thy triumphs who shall dare explore ? She moved her lips to bless thee, and expired. Suns and their systems left behind.
And now to thee she comes; still, still the same No tract of space, no distant star,
As in the hours gone unregarded by! No shock of elements at war,
To thee, how changed! comes as she ever came, Did thee detain. Thy wing of fire
Health on her cheek, and pleasure in her eye!
FROM A GREEK EPIGRAM.
WRITTEN IN A SICK CHAMBER.
Till through the shutter'd pane the morning streams,
TO THE FRAGMENT OF A STATUE OF HERCULES,
THE BOY OF EGREMOND.'
“ SAY, what remains when Hope is filed ?" (Thy giant limbs to night and chaos hurl’d), Still sit as on the fragment of a world ;
She answer'd, “Endless weeping !"
For in the herdsman's eye she read
Who in his shroud lay sleeping.
At Embsay rung the matin-bell,
The stag was roused on Barden-fell; Smote thee with fury, and thy headless trunk
The mingled sounds were swelling, dying, Deep in the dust ’mid tower and temple sunk;
And down the Wharfe a hern was flying ;
When near the cabin in the wood,
In tartan clad and forest-green,
With hound in leash and hawk in hood,
The Boy of Egremond was seen.
Blithe was his song, a song of yore;
But where the rock is rent in two,
His voice was heard no more!
"T was but a step! the gulf he pass'd;
But that step-it was his last !
(A cloud that hovers night and day), When mountain-glens and caverns full of night The hound hung back, and back he drew O'er her young mind divine enchantment threw, The Master and his merlin too.
That narrow place of noise and strife That in her veins a secret horror slept,
Received their little all of Life!
There now the matin-bell is rung;
1 In the twelfth century William Fitz-Duncan laid waste the 1 Mrs. Sheridan's.
valleys of Craven with fire and sword; and was afterwards 2 In the gardens of the Vatican, where it was placed by Ju- established there by his uncle, David, King of Scotland.
He was the last of the race: his son, commonly called the Boy lius II. it was long the favorite study of those great men to of Egremond, dying before him in the manner here related; whom we owe the revival of the arts, Michael Angelo, Raphael, when a Priory was removed from Embsay to Bolton, that it and the Carracci.
might be as near as possible to the place where the accident 3 Once in the possession of Praxiteles, if we may believe an happened. That place is still known by the name of the Strid; ancient epigram on the Guidian Venus.-Analecta Vet. Poeta- and the mother's angwer, as given in the first stanza, is to this rum, LII. 200.
day often repeated in Wharfedale.See Whitaker's Hist. of 4 On the death of her sister.
And holy men in cowl and hood
And while the torrent thunders loud, Are wandering up and down the wood.
And as the echoing cliffs reply, But what avail they? Ruthless Lord,
The huts peep o'er the morning-cloud,
Perch'd, like an eagle's nest, on high.
IMITATION OF AN ITALIAN SONNET. The child before thee is thy own.
Love, under Friendship's vesture white, And she who wildly wanders there,
Laughs, his little limbs concealing ; The mother in her long despair,
And oft in sport, and oft in spite, Shall oft remind thee, waking, sleeping,
Like Pity meets the dazzled sight, Of those who by the Wharfe were weeping; Smiles through his tears revealing. Of those who would not be consoled
But now as Rage the God appears !
He frowns, and tempests shake his frame !
"T is Love; and Love is still the same.
And the sweet air its modest leaf reveals ;
Her softer charms, but by their influence known, As on she moves with hesitating grace,
Surprise all hearts, and mould them to her own She wins assurance from his soothing voice; And, with a look the pencil could not trace, Smiles through her blushes, and confirms the choice.
YOUNGEST DAUGHTER OF LADY **** Spare the fine tremors of her feeling frame ! To thee she turns—forgive a virgin's fears !
Ah! why with tell-tale tongue reveal To thee she turns with surest, tenderest claim :
What most her blushes would conceal ? Weakness that charms, reluctance that endears!
Why list that modest veil to trace
The seraph-sweetness of her face? At each response the sacred rite requires,
Some fairer, better sport prefer; From her full bosom bursts the unbidden sigh.
And feel for us, if not for her. A strange mysterious awe the scene inspires ;
For this presumption, soon or late, And on her lips the trembling accents die.
Know thine shall be a kindred fate.
Another shall in vengeance riseO'er her fair face what wild emotions play!
Sing Harriet's cheeks, and Harriet's eyes ; What lights and shades in sweet confusion blend! And, echoing back her wood-notes wild, Soon shall they fly, glad harbingers of day,
- Trace all the mother in the child ! And settled sunshine on her soul descend ! Ah soon, thine own confest, ecstatic thought!
AN EPITAPH 2 ON A ROBIN-REDBREAST
A small note wakes from under-ground,
No more in lone and leafless groves,
With ruffled wing and faded breast,
His friendless, homeless spirit roves ; THE sun-beams streak the azure skies,
-Gone to the world where birds are blest! And line with light the mountain's brow:
Where never cat glides o'er the green,
Or school-boy's giant form is seen ;
Inspire their little souls to sing !
TO THE GNAT.
WHEN by the greenwood side, at summer eve, The goats wind slow their wonted way
Poetic visions charm my closing eye; Up craggy steeps and ridges rude;
And fairy scenes, that Fancy loves to weave, Mark'd by the wild wolf for his prey,
Shift to wild notes of sweetest minstrelsy; From desert cave or hanging wood. 1 There are passes in the Alps, where the guides tell you to
1 Alluding to some verses which she had written on an elder
sister. move on with speed, and say nothing, lest the agitation of the air should loosen the snows above.
2 Inscribed on an urn in the flower-garden at Hafod.
Tis thine to range in busy quest of prey,
SHEPHERD, or Huntsman, or worn Mariner,
Whate'er thou art, who wouldst allay thy thirst, -Ah now thy barbed shaft, relentless fly,
Drink and be glad. This cistern of white stone, Unsheathes its terrors in the sultry air !
Arch’d, and o'erwrought with many a sacred verse No guardian sylph, in golden panoply,
This iron cup chain'd for the general use, Lifts the broad shield, and points the glittering spear. Were given by Fatima. Borne hence a bride,
And these rude ses of earth within the grove, Now near and nearer rush thy whirring wings, Thy dragon-scales still wet with human gore.
'T was here she turn'd from her beloved sire, Hark, thy shrill horn its fearful larum flings !
To see his face no more.' Oh, if thou canst, - I wake in horror, and dare sleep no more!
(T is not far oft) visit his tomb with flowers;
That birds may come and drink upon his grave,
Making it holy!
WRITTEN IN THE HIGHLANDS OF SCOTLAND,
SEPTEMBER 2, 1812. The swallow, oft, beneath my thatch
Blue was the loch, the clouds were gone Shall twitter from her clay-built nest;
Ben Lomond in his glory shone, Oft shall the pilgrim lift the latch,
When, Luss, I left thee; when the breeze, And share my meal, a welcome guest.
Bore me from thy silver sands,
Thy kirk-yard wall among the trees, Around my ivied porch shall spring
Where, grey with age, the dial stands; Each fragrant flower that drinks the dew;
That dial so well known to me! And Lucy, at her wheel, shall sing
-Though many a shadow it had shed, In russet gown and apron blue.
Beloved Sister, since with thee
The legend on the stone was read. The village-church, among the trees,
The fairy-isles fled far away; Where first our marriage-vows were given, That with its woods and uplands green, With merry peals shall swell the breeze,
Where shepherd-huts are dimly seen,
And songs are heard at close of day;
And that, the asylum of the dead:
While, as the boat went merrily,
His arm, that fell below his knee, Shades of departed joys around me rise,
His cattle-ford and mountain-hold.
Tarbat, 4 thy shore I climb'd at last,
Upon another shore I stood,
Great Ocean's self! ('T is He who fills
That vast and awful depth of hills);
Where many an elf was playing round Dear is my little native vale,
Who treads urshod his classic ground; The ring-dove builds and murmurs there;
And speaks, his native rocks among, Close by my cot she tells her tale
As Fingal spoke, and Ossian sung. To every passing villager.
Night fell; and dark and darker grev The squirrel leaps from tree to tree,
That narrow sea, that narrow sky, And shells his nuts at liberty.
As o'er the glimmering waves we flew;
The sea-bird rustling, wailing by.
And now the grampus, half-descried,
Black and huge above the tide ; I charm the fairy-footed hours
The cliffs and promontories there, With my loved lute's romantic sound;
Front to front, and broad and bare ; Or crowns of living laurel weave,
Each beyond each, with giant-feet
Advancing as in haste to meet;
1 See an anecdote related by Pausanias, iii, 20. The canzonet and roundelay
2 A Turkish superstition. Sung in the silent greenwood shade,
3 A famous outlaw, These simple joys, that never fail,
4 Signifying, in the Erse language, an Isthmus. Shall bind me to my native vale.
The shatter'd fortress, whence the Dane
TO THE BUTTERFLY.
Child of the sun! pursue thy rapturous flight, All into midnight-shadow sweep,
Mingling with her thou lovest in fields of light; When day springs upward from the deep!' And, where the flowers of Paradise unfold, Kindling the waters in its fight,
Quaff fragrant nectar from their cups of gold. The prow wakes splendor; and the oar, There shall thy wings, rich as an evening-sky, That rose and fell unseen before,
Expand and shut with silent ecstacy! Flashes in a sea of light!
-Yet wert thou once a worm, a thing that crept Glad sign, and sure! for now we hail On the bare earth, then wrought a lomb and slept Thy flowers, Glenfinnart, in the gale;
And such is man; soon from his cell of clay
Oh blest retreat, and sacred too!
WRITTEN IN WESTMINSTER ABBEY. And crosses deck'd thy summits blue. Oft, like some loved romantic tale,
OCTOBER 10, 1806.' Oft shall my weary mind recall,
WHOE'ER thou art, approach, and, with a sigh, Amid the hum and stir of men,
Mark where the small remains of greatness lie.? Thy beechen grove and waterfall,
There sleeps the dust of Fox, for ever gone : Thy ferry with its gliding sail,
How near the Place where late his glory shone! And her—the Lady of the Glen!
And, though no more ascends the voice of Prayer,
Still, like an awful dream that comes again,
Alas! at best as transient and as vain,
Still do I see (while through the vaults of night I must be gone while yet I may;
The funeral-song once more proclaims the rite) Oft shall I weep to think of you,
The moving Pomp along the shadowy aisle, But here I will not, cannot stay.
That, like a Darkness, fill'd the solemn Pile;
The illustrious line, that in long order led, The sweet expression of that face,
Of those that loved Him living, mourn'd Him dead; For ever changing, yet the same,
Of those the Few, that for their Country stood
Round Him who dared be singularly good : Ah no, I dare not turn to trace
All, of all ranks, that claim'd Him for their own; It melts my soul, it fires my frame!
And nothing wanting-but himself alone ! 3 Yet give me, give me, ere I go,
Oh say, of Him now rests there but a name; One little lock of those so blest,
Wont, as He was, to breathe ethereal flame? That lend your cheek a warmer glow,
Friend of the Absent, Guardian of the Dead ! 4
Who but would here their sacred sorrow's shed ? And on your white neck love to rest.
(Such as He shed on Nelson's closing grave; Say, when to kindle soft delight,
How soon to claim the sympathy He gave!)
In Him, resentful of another's wrong, That hand has chanced with mine to meet,
The dumb were eloquent, the feeble strong. How could its thrilling touch excite
Truth from his lips a charm celestial drewA sigh so short, and yet so sweet?
Ah, who so mighty and so gentle too ?" O say—but no, it must not be.
What though with War the madding nations rung,
“ Peace," when He spoke, was ever on his tongue ! Adieu! a long, a long adieu ! -Yet still, methinks, you frown on me,
Amidst the frowns of Power, the tricks of State, Or never could I fly from you.
Fearless, resolved, and negligently great!
The clouds, that rise to quench the Orb of day,
Reflect its splendor, and dissolve away!
1 After the funeral of the Right Hon. Charles James Fox. Whose dwelling place is Heaven. Daughters of Jove,
2 Venez voir le pru qui nous reste de tant de grandeur, etc From them flow all the decencies of life;
-Bossuet. Oraison funébre de Louis de Bourbon. Without them nothing pleases, Virtue's self
3 Et rien enfin ne manque dans tous ces honneurs, que celui Admired, not loved ; and those on whom they smile, à qui on les rend.-Ibid. Great thongh they be, and wise, and beautiful,
4 Alluding particularly to his speech on moving a new writ Shine forth with double lustre.
for the borough of Tavistock, March 16, 1802.
5 Spe that admirable delineation of his character by Sir James 1 A phenomenon described by many navigators.
Mackintosh, which first appeared in the Bombay Courier Jan. 2 At Woburn-Abbey.
uary 17, 1807.