TO T. L. H. A CHILD. MODEL of thy parent dear, Convict unconscious, culprit-child! Chains that chink in cheerless cells Have hemmed thy faultless weakness in; Her discordant house hath built, And filled it with her monstrous brood Sights, by thee not understood Sights of fear, and of distress, That pass a harmless infant's guess! But the clouds, that overcast Then wandering up thy sire's lov'd hill," Of health and pastime. Birds shall sing Then thy prison's lengthened bound Shall be the horizon skirting round. And, while thou fillest thy lap with flowers, To make amends for wintery hours, Hampstead. The breeze, the sunshine, and the place, Shall from thy tender brow efface Each vestige of untimely care, That sour restraint had graven there; And on thy every look impress A more excelling childishness. So shall be thy days beguil'd, THORNTON HUNT, my favourite child. BALLAD. FROM THE GERMAN. THE clouds are blackening, the storms threat ening, And ever the forest maketh a moan: Billows are breaking, the damsel's heart aching, "The world is empty, the heart is dead surely, Living right lovingly." DAVID IN THE CAVE OF ADULLAM. DAVID and his three captains bold Nigh which no water they could have, Nor spring, nor running brook was near Strait bethought him of a well, Oft drunk his fill, a shepherd lad; To execute his will did fly. |