Sink the sweet scenes of childhood, that mine eyes But straight with all their tints thy waters rise, Thy crossing plank, thy marge with willows gray, Lone manhood's cares, yet waking fondest sighs SONNET. COMPOSED ON A JOURNEY HOMEWARD; THE AUTHOR HAVING RECEIVED INTELLIGENCE OF THE BIRTH OF A SON, SEPT. 20, 1796. OFT o'er my brain does that strange fancy roll Which makes the present (while the flash doth last) We lived, ere yet this robe of flesh we wore. Thou wert a spirit, to this nether sphere Did'st scream, then spring to meet Heaven's quick reprieve, While we wept idly o'er thy little bier! SONNET. TO A FRIEND WHO ASKED, HOW I FELT WHEN THE NURSE FIRST PRESENTED MY INFANT TO ME. CHARLES! my slow heart was only sad, when first I scanned that face of feeble infancy : For dimly on my thoughtful spirit burst All I had been, and all my child might be ! * Ην που ἡμῶν ἡ ψύχη πρὶν ἐν τῷδε τῷ ἀνθρωπίνῳ εἴδει γενέσθαι.-Plat. in Phadon. But when I saw it on its mother's arm, So for the mother's sake the child was dear, THE VIRGIN'S CRADLE-HYMN. COPIED FROM A PRINT OF THE VIRGIN, IN A ROMAN CATHOLIC VILLAGE IN GERMANY. DORMI, Jesu! Mater ridet Quæ tam dulcem somnum videt, Dormi, Jesu blandule! Si non dormis, Mater plorat, Inter fila cantans orat, Blande, veni, somnule. ENGLISH. Sleep, sweet babe! my cares beguiling : If thou sleep not, mother mourneth, EPITAPH ON AN INFANT. ITs balmy lips the infant blest And such my infant's latest sigh! MELANCHOLY. A FRAGMENT. STRETCH'D on a mouldered Abbey's broadest wall, That pallid cheek was flushed her eager look TELL'S BIRTH-PLACE. IMITATED FROM STOLBERG. I. MARK this holy chapel well! The birth-place, this, of William Tell. II. Here, first, an infant to her breast, Him his loving mother prest; And kissed the babe, and blessed the day, And prayed as mothers used to pray. III. "Vouchsafe him health, O God! and give Through him, than through an armed power. IV. God gave him reverence of laws, The eye of the hawk, and the fire therein! V. To Nature and to Holy Writ Alone did God the boy commit: Where flashed and roared the torrent, oft His soul found wings, and soared aloft! VI. The straining oar and chamois chase VII. He knew not that his chosen hand, A CHRISTMAS CAROL. I. THE shepherds went their hasty way, And now they checked their eager tread, II. They told her how a glorious light, Blest Angels heralded the Saviour's birth, III. She listened to the tale divine, And closer still the Babe she prest; And while she cried, the Babe is mine! The milk rushed faster to her breast: Joy rose within her, like a summer's morn; IV. Thou Mother of the Prince of Peace, V. And is not war a youthful king, A stately hero clad in mail? Beneath his footsteps laurels spring; Him Earth's majestic monarchs hail Their friend, their playmate! and his bold bright eye Compels the maiden's love-confessing sigh. VI. "Tell this in some more courtly scene, To maids and youths in robes of state! I am a woman poor and mean, And therefore is my soul elate. War is a ruffian, all with guilt defiled, VII. A murderous fiend, by fiends adored, He kills the sire and starves the son; The husband kills, and from her board Steals all his widow's toil had won; |