He once had a heart which was moved by the wires
Of manifold pleasures and many desires:
And what if he cherished his purse? "T was no more
Than treading a path trod by thousands before.

'T was a path trod by thousands; but Daniel is one
Who went something farther than others have gone,
And now with old Daniel you see how it fares;
You see to what end he has brought his gray hairs.
The pair sally forth hand in hand : ere the sun
Has peered o'er the beeches, their work is begun:
And yet, into whatever sin they may fall,
This Child but half knows it, and that not at all.

They hunt through the streets with deliberate tread,
And each, in his turn, is both leader and led;
And, wherever they carry their plots and their wiles,
Every face in the village is dimpled with smiles.
Neither checked by the rich nor the needy, they roam
The gray-headed Sire has a daughter at home,
Who will gladly repair all the damage that's done.
And three, were it asked, would be rendered for one.

Old Man! whom so oft I with pity have eyed,

I love thee, and love the sweet Boy at thy side:
Long yet may'st thou live! for a teacher we see
That lifts up the veil of our nature in thee.

ANIMAL TRANQUILLITY AND DECAY

A SKETCH.

THE little hedgerow birds,
That peck along the road, regard him not.
He travels on, and in his face, his step,
His gait, is one expression; every limb,
His look and bending figure, all bespeak

A man who does not move with pain, but moves
With thought. He is insensibly subdued
To settled quiet: he is one by whom
All effort seems forgotten; one to whom
Long patience hath such mild composure given,
That patience now doth seem a thing of which
He hath no need. He is by nature led
To peace so perfect, that the young behold
With envy, what the Old Man hardly feels.

I KNOW an aged man constrained to dwell

In a large house of public charity, Where he abides, as in a prisoner's cell, With numbers near, alas! no company.

When he could creep about, at will, though poor
And forced to live on alms, this old man fed
A redbreast, one that to his cottage door
Came not, but in a lane partook his bread.

There at the root of one particular tree,
An easy seat this worn-out labourer found,
While robin pecked the crumbs upon his knee
Laid one by one, or scattered on the ground.

Dear intercourse was theirs, day after day; What signs of mutual gladness when they met! Think of their common peace, their simple play, The parting moment and its fond regret.

Months passed in love that failed not to fulfil, In spite of seasons' change, its own demand, By fluttering pinions here and busy bill; There by caresses from a tremulous hand.

Thus in the chosen spot a tic so strong
Was formed between the solitary pair,

That when his fate had housed him mid a throng
The captive shunned all converse proffered there.

AFFECTIONS lose their object; Time brings forth
No successors; and, lodged in memory,
If love exist no longer, it must die,-
Wanting accustomed food, must pass from earth,
Or never hope to reach a second birth.
This sad belief, the happiest that is left
To thousands, share not thou; howe'er bereft,
Scorned, or neglected, fear not such a dearth.
Though poor and destitute of friends thou art,
Perhaps the sole survivor of thy race,
One to whom Heaven assigns that mournful part
The utmost solitude of age to face,

Still shall be left some corner of the heart
Where love for living thing can find a place.

1846.

"The Farmer of Tilsbury Vale," (p. 455.) With this picture, which was taken from real life, зн

compare the imaginative one of "The Reverie of Poor Susan," p. 169; and see (to make up the deficiencies of this class) "The Excursion," passim.

39

PERHAPS Some needful service of the State
Drew TITUS from the depth of studious bowers,
And doomed him to contend in faithless courts,
Where gold determines between right and wrong.
Yet did at length his loyalty of heart,
Arò his pure native genius, lead him back
T' wait upon the bright and gracious Muses,
Whom he had early loved. And not in vain
Such course he held! Bologna's learned schools
Were gladdened by the Sage's voice, and hung
With fondness on those sweet Nestorian strains.

There pleasure crowned his days; and all his thoughts
A roseate fragrance breathed.*- O human life,
That never art secure from dolorous change!
Behold a high injunction suddenly

To Arno's side conducts him, and he charmed
A Tuscan audience: but full soon was called
To the perpetual silence of the grave.
Mourn, Italy, the loss of him who stood
A Champion steadfast and invincible,
To quell the rage of literary War!

2.

O THOU who movest onward with a mind
Intent upon thy way, pause, though in haste!
"T will be no fruitless moment. I was born
Within Savona's walls, of gentle blood.
On Tiber's banks my youth was dedicate
To sacred studies; and the Roman Shepherd
Gave to my charge Urbino's numerous Flock.
Much did I watch, much laboured, nor had power
To escape from many and strange indignities;
Was smitten by the great ones of the World,
But did not fall; for Virtue braves all shocks,

* Ivi vivea giocondo e i suoi pensieri
Erano tutti rose.

Te Translator had not skill to come nearer to his original.

Upon herself resting immoveably.

Me did a kindlier fortune then invite
To serve the glorious Henry, King of France,
And in his hands I saw a high reward
Stretched out for my acceptance-but Death came.
Now, Reader, learn from this my fate how false,
How treacherous to her promise, is the World,
And trust in God-to whose eternal doom
Must bend the sceptred Potentates of Earth.

3.

THERE never breathed a man who, when his life
Was closing, might not of that life relate
Toils long and hard. - The Warrior will report
of wounds, and bright swords flashing in the field,
And blast of trumpets. He who hath been doomed
To bow his forehead in the courts of kings,
Will tell of fraud and never-ceasing hate,
Envy and heart-inquietude, derived
From intricate cabals of treacherous friends.
I, who on Shipboard lived from earliest youth,
Could represent the countenance horrible
Of the vexed waters, and the indignant rage
Of Auster and Bootes. Forty years
Over the well-steered Galleys did I rule:
From huge Pelorus to the Atlantic pillars,
Rises no mountain to mine eyes unknown;
And the broad gulfs I traversed oft-and-oft:
Of every cloud which in the Heavens might stir

I knew the force; and hence the rough sea's pride

Availed not to my Vessel's overthrow.

What noble pomp and frequent have not I

On regal decks beheld! yet in the end

4.

DESTINED to war from very infancy
Was I, Roberto Dati, and I took

In Malta the white symbol of the Cross.
Nor in life's vigorous season did I shun
Hazard or toil; among the Sands was seen
Of Libya, and not seldom, on the Banks
Of wide Hungarian Danube, 't was my lot
To hear the sanguinary trumpet sounded.
So lived I, and repined not at such fate;
This only grieves me, for it seems a wrong,
That stripped of arms I to my end am brought
On the soft down of my paternal home.
Yet haply Arno shall be spared all cause
To blush for me. Thou, 'loiter not nor halt
In thy appointed way, and bear in mind
How fleeting and how frail is human life!

This to the Dead by sacred right belongs;
All else is nothing- Did occasion suit
To tell his worth, the marble of this tomb
Would ill suffice: for Plato's lore sublime,
And all the wisdom of the Stagyrite,
Enriched and beautified his studious mind:
With Archimedes also he conversed
As with a chosen Friend, nor did he leave
Those laureat wreaths ungathered which the Nymphs
Twine on the top of Pindus. Finally,
Himself above each lower thought uplifting,
His ears he closed to listen to the Song
Which Sion's Kings did consecrate of old;
And fixed his Pindus upon Lebanon.
A blessed Man! who of protracted days
Made not, as thousands do, a vulgar sleep;
But truly did He live his life. - Urbino,
Take pride in him! O passenger, farewell!

5.

Nor without heavy grief of heart did He
On whom the duty fell (for at that time
The Father sojourned in a distant Land)
Deposit in the hollow of this Tomb

A Brother's Child, most tenderly beloved!
FRANCESCO was the name the Youth had borne,
POZZOBONNELLI his illustrious House;

And, when beneath this stone the Corse was laid,
The eyes of all Savona streamed with tears.
Alas! the twentieth April of his life
Had scarcely flowered: and at this early time,
By genuine virtue he inspired a hope

That greatly cheered his Country: to his Kin
He promised comfort; and the flattering thoughts
His Friends had in their fondness entertained,*
He suffered not to languish or decay.
Now is there not good reason to break forth
Into a passionate lament?-O Soul!
Short while a Pilgrim in our nether world,
Do thou enjoy the calm empyreal air;
And round this earthly tomb let roses rise,
An everlasting spring! in memory
Of that delightful fragrance which was once
From thy mild manners, quietly exhaled.

7.

WEEP not, beloved friends! nor let the air
For me with sighs be troubled. Not from life
Have I been taken; this is genuine life
And this alone - the life which now I live
In peace eternal; where desire and joy
Together move in fellowship without end.-
Francesco Ceni willed that, after death

His tombstone thus should speak for him. And surely
Small cause there is for that fond wish of ours
Long to continue in this world; a world
That keeps not faith, nor yet can point a hope
To good, whereof itself is destitute.

8.

TRUE is it that Ambrosio Salinero

With an untoward fate was long involved

In odious litigation; and full long,
Fate harder still! had he to endure assaults
Of racking malady. And true it is
That not the less a frank courageous heart
And buoyant spirit triumphed over pain;
And he was strong to follow in the steps
Of the fair Muses. Not a covert path
Leads to the dear Parnassian forest's shade,
That might from him be hidden; not a track
Mounts to pellucid Hippocrene, but he
Had traced its windings. This Savona krows,
Yet no sepulchral honours to her son
She paid, for in our age the heart is ruled
Only by gold. And now a simple stone