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Among the stars that have a different birth,-
P. B. Shelley.
Upon a wintry bough;
The freezing stream below.
There was no leaf upon the forest bare,
No flower upon the ground,
P. B. SHELLEY,
266. TO SLEEP.
A flock of sheep that leisurely pass by
I've thought of all by turns, and still I lie
Even thus last night, and two nights more I lay,
Without Thee what is all the morning's wealth ?
267. THE SOLDIER'S DREAM.
Our bugles sang truce, for the night-cloud had
lower'd, And the sentinel stars set their watch in the sky; And thousands had sunk on the ground overpower'd,
The weary to sleep, and the wounded to die.
When reposing that night on my pallet of straw
By the wolf-scaring faggot that guarded the slain, At the dead of the night a sweet Vision I saw ;
And thrice ere the morning I dreanit it again.
Methought from the battle-field's dreadful array
Far, far, I had roam'd on a desolate track: 'Twas Autumn,-and sunshine arose on the way
To the home of my fathers, that welcomed me back.
I flew to the pleasant fields traversed so oft
In life's morning march, when my bosom was young; I heard my own mountain-goats bleating aloft, And knew the sweet strain that the corn-reapers
Then pledged we the wine-cup, and fondly I swore From my home and my weeping friends never to
part; My little ones kiss'd me a thousand times o'er,
And my wife sobb'd aloud in her fulness of heart.
“Stay-stay with us !-rest!—thou art weary and
268. A DREAM OF THE UNKNOWN.
I dream'd that as I wander'd by the way
Bare Winter suddenly was changed to Spring, And gentle odours led my steps astray,
Mix'd with a sound of waters murmuring Along a shelving bank of turf, which lay
Under a copse, and hardly dared to fling Its green arms round the bosom of the stream, But kiss'd it and then fled, as Thou mightest in
There grew pied wind-flowers and violets,
Daisies, those pearld Arcturi of the earth, The constellated flower that never sets ;
Faint oxlips; tender blue-bells, at whose birth The sod scarce heaved ; and that tall flower that wets Its mother's face with heaven-collected tears, When the low wind, its playmate's voice, it hears.
And in the warm hedge grew lush eglantine,
Green cow-bind and the moonlight-colour'd May, And cherry-blossoms, and white cups, whose wine
Was the bright dew yet drain'd not by the day ; And wild roses, and ivy serpentine
With its dark buds and leaves, wandering astray ; And flowers azure, black, and streak'd with gold, Fairer than
And nearer to the rivers trembling edge
And floating water-lilies, broad and bright,
Which lit the oak that overhung the hedge
With moonlight beams of their own watery light; And bulrushes, and reeds of such deep green As soothed the dazzled eye with sober sheen.
Methought that of these visionary flowers
I made a nosegay, bound in such a way That the same hues, which in their natural bowers
Were mingled or opposed, the like array
Within my hand,-and then, elate and gay,
P. B. SHELLEY.
269. THE INNER VISION.
Most sweet it is with unuplifted eyes
Pleased rather with some soft ideal scene
- If Thought and Love desert us, from that day Let us break off all commerce with the Muse : With Thought and Love companions of our way
Whate'er the senses take or may refuse,-
270. THE REALM OF FANCY.
Ever let the Fancy roam !