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Even so, by vestal Nature guarded, here

The bound of all his vanity, to deck, The traces of primeval Man appear;

With one bright bell, a favourite Heifer's neck; The native dignity no forms debase,

Well-pleased upon some simple annual feast, The eye sublime, and surly lion-grace.

Remember'd half the year and hoped the rest, The slave of nove, of beasts alone the lord,

If dairy produce from his inner hoard
He marcbes with his flute, his book, and sword; Of thrice ten summers consecrate the board.
Well taught by that to feel his rights, prepared -Alas! in every clime a flying ray
With this « the blessings he enjoys to guard.»

Is all we have to cheer our wintry way.

« Here,» cried a thoughtful Swain, upon whose head And, as his native hills encircle ground

The « blossoms of the grave» were thioly spread, For many a wondrous victory renown'd,

Last night, while by his dying fire, as closed The work of Freedom daring to oppose,

The day, in luxury my limbs reposed, With few in arms, innumerable foes,

« Here Penury oft from Misery's mount will guide When to those glorious fields his steps are led, Even to the summer door bis icy tide, An uokdown power connects him with the dead. And here the avalanche of Death destroy For images of other worlds are there ;

The little collage of domestic joy. Awful the light, and holy is the air.

But, ab! the unwilling mind may more than trace i l'ocertain through his fierce uncultured soul

The general sorrows of the human race: Like lighted tempeses troubled transports roll;

The churlish gales, that unremitting blow To viewless realms his Spirit towers amain,

Cold from necessity's continual

show, Beyond the seases and their little reign.

To us the gentle groups of bliss deny

That on the poon-day bank of leisure lie. And oft, when pass'd that solemn vision by, Yet more;-compelld by Powers which only deigo De bolds with God himself communion high, That solitary man disturb their reign, Where the dread peal of swelling torrents fills Powers that support a never-ceasing strife The sky-roofd temple of the eternal hills;

With all the tender cbarities of life, Or, when upon the mountain's silent brow

The father, as his sons of strength become | Reclined, he sees, above him and below,

To pay the filial debt, for food to roam, Bright stars of ice and azure fields of snow;

From his bare nest amid the storms of heaven i while needle peaks of granite shooting bare

Drives, eagle-like, those sons as he was driven ; Tremble in ever-varying tints of air:

His last dread pleasure watches to the plain1 -Great joy, by borror tamed, dilates his heart, And never, eagle-like, beholds again!» And the near heavens their own delights impart.

- When the Sun bids the gorgeous scene farewell, When the poor heart has all its joys resign'd, Alps overlooking Alps their state up-swell;

Why does their sad remembrance cleave behind ? Huge Pikes of Darkness pamed, of Fear and Storms, 2 Lo! where through tlat Batavia's willowy groves, Lift, all serene, their still, illumined forms,

Or by the lazy Seine the exile roves; In sea-like reach of prospect round him spread, Soft o'er the waters mouruful measures swell, Tinged like an angel's sinile all rosy red.

Unlocking tender thought's « memorial cell;»

Past pleasures are transform'd to mortal pains, When downward to his winter hut he goes,

While poison spreads along the listener's veins, Dear and more dear the lessening circle grows; Poisoo which not a frame of steel can brave, That but which from the hills his eyes employs Bows his young head with sorrow to the grave." So oft, the central point of all his joys. Aod as a swift, by tender cares opprest,

Gay lark of hope, thy silent song resume! Peeps often ere she dart into her nest,

Fair smiling lights the purpled hills illume! ! So to the antrodden tloor, where round him looks Soft gales and dews of life's delicious morn, | His father, helpless as the babe he rocks,

And thou, lost fragrance of the heart, return! • Oft he descends in nurse the brother pair,

Soon flies the little joy to man allow'd, Till storm and driving ice blockade him there.

And grief before him travels like a cloud : T'here, safely guarded by the woods behind,

For come Diseases on, and Penury's rage, He hears thic chiding of the baftled wind,

Labour, and Care, and Pain, and dismal Age, llear Wioler, calling all his Terrors round,

Till, Hope-deserted, long in vain his breath ! Rash down the living rocks with whirlwind sound.

Implores the dreadful untried sleep of Death. Through Nature's vale his homely pleasures glide – Mid savage rocks, and seas of suow that shine Uostaind by envy, disconteut, and pride.

Between interminable tracts of pine,

A Temple stands; which holds an awful shrine, * Allading to several battles which the Swiss in very small num- By an uncertain light reveald, that falls bers bave gained over their oppressors, the bouse of Austria ; and in on the mule Image and the troubled walls : i parcalar, to one fought at Netels near Glarus, where ibree bun- Pale, dreadful faces round the Shrine appear,

dred and thiny men deleated an army of between lifted and twenty 1 mand Anutriaus. Satterud over the valley are to be found ele- Abortive Joy, and Hope that works in fear; sen stonea, with this inscription, 1388, ibe year the battle was While strives a secret Power to hush the crowd, fweght, werking out, as I was told upon the spot, the several places Pain's wild rebellious burst proclaims hier rights aloud. burre the Austrians attempting to make a stand were repulsel • As Schrock-Florn, tbe pike of terror ; Wetter-Ilorn, the pike of I The effect of the famous air called in French Ranz des Vaches

upon the Swiss troops.

stores, etc. etc.

Oh! give not me that eye
of hard disdain

That where despotic courts their gems display,
That views undimm'd Ensiedlen's wretched fane'. The lilies of domestic joy decay,
Mid muttering prayers all sounds of torment meet, While the remotest hamlets blessings share
Dire clap of hands, distracted chafe of feet;

In thy dear presence known, and only there!
While, loud and dull, ascends the weeping cry, The casement's shed more luscious woodbine binds,
Surely in other thoughts contempt may die.

And to the door a neater pathway winds; If the sad grave of human ignorance bear

At early inorn, the careful housewife, led One flower of hope-Oh, pass and leave it there. To cull her dinner from its garden bed, – The tall Sun, tiptoe on an Alpine spire,

Of weedless herbs a healthier prospect sees, Flings o'er the wilderness a stream of fire;

While bum with busier joy her happy bees; Now let us meet the Pilgrims ere the day

In brighter rows her table wealth aspires, Close on the remnant of their weary way;

And laugh with merrier blaze her evening fires;
While they are drawing toward the sacred floor Her infants' cheeks with fresher roses clow,
Where the charm'd worm of pain shall gnaw no more. And wilder graces sport around their brow;
How gaily murmur and how sweetly taste

By clearer taper lit, a cleanlier board
The fountains 2 reard for them amid the waste! Receives at supper hour her tempting board;
There some with tearful kiss each other greet,

The chamber hearth with fresher bouglas is spread,
And some, with reverence, wash their toil-worn feet. And whiter is the hospitable bed.
Yes, I will see you when ye first behold
Those holy turrets tipp'd with evening gold,

And oh ! fair France! though now along the shade In that glad moment when the hands are prest Where erst at will the grey-clad peasant stray'd, In mute devotion on the thankful breast.

Gleam war's discordant vestments through the trees,

And the red banner fluctuates in the breeze ; Last let us turn to where Chamożny 3 shields Though martial songs have banish'd songs

of love, With rocks and gloomy woods her fertile fields; And nightingales forsake the village grove, Five streams of ice amid her cots descend,

Scared by the fife and rumbling drum's alarms,
And with wild flowers and blooming orchards blend. And the short thunder, and the flash of arms;
A scene more fair than what the Grecian feigns While, as Night bids the startling uproar die,
Of purple lights and ever-vernal plains ;

Sole sound, the Sourd' renews his mournful cry!
Here lawns and shades by breezy rivulets fanod,

- Yet, hast thou found that Freedom spreads her power Here all the Seasons revel hand in hand.

Beyond the collage hearth, the collage door: -Red stream the cottage-lights; the landscape fades, All nature smiles, and owos beneath her eyes Erroneous wavering mid the twilight shades.

Her fields peculiar, and peculiar skies.
Alone ascends that Hill of matchless height, 4

Yes, as I roam'd where Loiret's waters glide
That holds no commerce with the summer Night. Through rustling aspens beard from side to side,
From age to age, amid his lonely bounds

When from October clouds a milder light
The crash of ruin fitfully resounds;

Fell, where the blue flood rippled into white, Mysterious havoc! but serene his brow,

Methought from every cot the watchful bird Where daylight lingers mid perpetual snow;

Crow'd with ear-piercing power till then unheard; Glitter the stars above, and all is black below.

Each clacking mill, that broke the murmuring streams,

Rock'd the charm'd thought in more delightful dreams; At such an hour I heaved a pensive sigh,

Chasing those long, long dreams, the falling leaf When roard the sullen Arve in anger by,

Awoke a fainter pang of moral grief; That not for thy reward, delicious Vale!

The measured echo of the distant llail Waves the ripe harvest in the autumnal gale;

Wound in more welcome cadence down the vale ; That thou, the slave of slaves, art doom'd to pine; A more majestic tide - the water rolld, Hard lot!--for no Italian arts are thine,

And glow'd the sun-gilt groves in richer gold. To soothe or cheer, to soften or retine.

– Though Liberty shall soon, indignant, raise

Red on the hills his beacon's comet blaze; Beloved Freedom! were it mine to stray,

Bid from on high his lonely cannou sound, With shrill winds roaring round my lonely way, And on ten thousand hearths his shout rebound; O'er the bleak sides of Cumbria's heath-clad moors, His larum-bell from village-tower to tower Or where dank sea-weed lashes Scotland's shores; Swing on the astounded car its dull undying roar; To scent the sweets of Piedmont's breathing rose, Yet, yet rejoice, though Pride's perverted ire And orange cale that o'er Lugano blows;

Rouse Hell's own aid, and wrap thy hills in fire! In the wide range of many a varied round,

Lo! from the innocuous flames, a lovely birth, Fleet as my passage was, I still liave found

With its own Virtues springs another earth :

Nature, as in her prime, her virgin reign ? This shrine is resorted to, from a hope of relief, by multitudes, Begins, and Love and Truth compose ber train; from every corner of the Catholic world, labouring under mental while, with a pulseless hand, and steadfast gaze, or bodily afflictions.

Unbreathing Justice her still beam surveys. • Rude fountains built and covered with sheds for the accommodation of the Pilgrims, in their ascent of the mountain,

An insect so called, which emits a short, melancholy cry, board * This word is pronounced upon the spot (bà mouny: I have taken at the close of tbe summer evenings, on the banks of the Loire. the liberty of changing the accent.

2 Tbe duties upon many parts of the French rivers were so exor • It is only from the higher part of the valley of Chamoupy that bitant, that the poorer people, deprived of the benefit of water care Mont Blanc is visible.

riage. were obliged to transport their goods by land.

Oh give, great God, to Freedom's waves to ride Till then, he hoped his bones might there be laid, Sublime o'er Conquest, Avarice, and Pride,

Close by my mother in their native bowers; To sweep where Pleasure decks her guilty bowers, Bidding me trust in God, he stood and pray'd, And dark Oppression builds her thick-ribb'd towers I could not pray :-through tears that fell in showers, -Give them, beneath their breast while gladness springs, Glimmer'd our dear-loved home, alas! no longer ours ! To brood the nations o'er with Nile-like wings; And grant that every sceptred Child of clay,

There was a youth whom I had loved so long, Who cries, presumptuous, « here their tides shall stay,” That when I loved him not I cannot say. Swepe in their anger from the affrighted shore, Mid the green mountains many a thoughtless song With all his creatures sink-10 rise no more!

We two had sung, like gladsome birds in May.

When we began to tire of childish play, To-night, my friend, within this humble cot We seem'd still more and more to prize each other; Be the dead load of mortal ills forgot

We talk'd of marriage and our marriage day; In timely sleep; and, when at break of day,

And I in truth did love bim like a brother,
On the tall peaks the glistening sunbeams play, For never could I hope to meet with such another.
With lighter heart our course we may renew,
The first whose footsteps print the mountain dew.

Two years were pass'd since to a distant town
He had repair'd to ply the artist's trade.

What tears of bitter grief till then unknown!
THE FEMALE VAGRANT.

What tender vows our last sad kiss delay'd!

To him we turn'd:-we had no other aid. My Father was a good and pious man,

Like one revived, upon his neck I wept, An honest man by honest parents bred,

And ber whom he had loved in joy, he said, And I believe that, soon as I began

He well could love in grief: his faith he kept;
To lisp, he made me kneel beside my bed,

And in a quiet home once more my father slept.
And in his liearing there my prayers I said:
And afterwards, by my good father taught,

We lived in peace and comfort; and were blest
I read, and loved the books in which I read;

With daily bread, by constant toil supplied. For books in every neighbouriog house I sought,

Three lovely iofants lay upon my breast ; And nothing to my mind a sweeter pleasure brought.

And often viewing their sweet smiles, I sigh'u,

And knew not why. My happy Father died Can I forget what charms did once adorn

When sad distress reduced the children's meal:
My garden, stored with pease, and mint, and thyme,

Thrice happy! that for him the grave did hide
And rose, and lily, for the sabbath morn?
The sabbath bells, and their delightful chime;

The empty loom, cold hearth, and silent wheel,

And tears that flow'd for ills whicla patience could not The yambols and wild freaks at shearing time;

heal. My hen's rich best through long grass scarce espied; The cowslip-gathering in June's dewy pride;

'Twas a hard change, an evil time was come; The swans, that, when I souglit the water-side,

We had no hope, and no relief could gain. From far to meet me came, spreading their snowy pride ?

But soon, with proud parade, the noisy drum The staff I yet remember which upbore

Beat round, to sweep the streets of want and pain. The bending body of my active Sire;

My husband's arms now only served to strain

Me and his children hungering in his view: His seat beneath the hopcy'd sycamore

In such dismay my prayers and tears were vain : Where the bees humm'd, and chair by winter fire;

To join those miserable men he flew; When market-morning came, the peat attire

And now to the sea-coast, with numbers more, we drew. With which, though bent on haste, myself I deck'd; My watchful dog, whose starts of furious ire, Wheo stranger pass'd, so often I have check’d;

There loog were we neglected, and we bore The red-breast known for years, which at my casement

Much sorrow, ere the tleet ils anchor weighd;

Green fields before us, and our native shore, peck d.

We breathed a pestilential air, that made The suns of iweaty summers danced along,–

Ravage for which no knell was heard. We pray'd Ab! little markid how fast they rolld away:

For our departure; wish'd and wish'd -nor knew But, through severe mischance, and cruel wrong,

'Mid that long sickness, and those hopes delay'd, My father's substance fell into decay;

That happier days we never more must view: We toil'd and struggled - hoping for a day

The parting signal stream'd, at last the land withdrew. When fortune should put on a kinder look; But vaio were wishes - efforts vain as they :

But the calm summer season now was past. He from his old bereditary nook

On as we drove, the equinoctial deep Must part,-the summons came,-our final leave we Ran mountains-high before the howling blast; look.

And many perishi'd in the whirlwind's sweep.

We gazed with terror on their gloomy sleep, It was indeed a miserable hour

Untaught that soon such anguish must epsue, When from the last hill-top, my sire survey'd,

Our hopes such harvest of aftliction reap, Peering above the trees, the steeple tower

That we the mercy of the waves should rue: That on his marriage day sweet music made! We reach'd the western world, a poor, devoted crew.

The pains and plagues that on our heads came down, With blindness link'd, did on my vitals fall,
Disease and famine, agony and fear,

And after many interruptions short
In wood or wilderness, in camp or town,

Of hideous sense, I sank, nor step could crawl; It would thy brain unsettle even to hear.

Unsought for was the help that did my life recall. All perish'd-all, in one remorseless year, Ilusband and Children! one by one, by sword

Borne to an hospital, I lay with brain And ravenous plague, all perish'd: every tear

Drowsy and weak, and shatter'd memory; Dried up, despairing, desolate, on board

I heard my neighbours, in their beds, complain A British ship I waked, as from a trance restored. Of many things which never troubled me;

Of feet still bustling round with busy glee; Peaceful as some immeasurable plain

Of looks wliere common kindness bad no part; By the first beams of dawning light imprest,

Of service done with careless cruelty, In the calm sunshine slept the glittering main.

Fretting the fever round the languid heart; The very ocean hath its hour of rest.

And groans, which, as they said, might make a dead I too forgot the heavings of my breast.

man start. Oh me, how quiet sky and ocean were! As quiet all within me. I was blest!

These things just served to stir the torpid sease, And look'd, and look'd along the silent air,

Nor pain nor pity in my bosom raised. Until it seem'd to bring a joy to my despair.

With strength did memory return; and, thence

Dismiss'd, again on open day I gazed, Ah! how unlike those late terrific sleeps,

At liouses, men, and common light, amazed. And groans,

The lanes ( sought, and, as the sun retired, that of racking famine spoke!

rage The unburied dead that lay in festering heaps !

Came where beneath the trees a faggot blazed; The breathing pestilence that rose like smoke!

The Travellers saw me weep, my fate inquired, The shriek that from the distant battle broke!

And gave me food, -and rest, more welcome, more

desired.
The mine's dire earthquake, and the pallid host
Driven by the bomb's incessant iliunder-stroke
To loathsome vaults, where heart-sick anguish toss'd,

They with their pannier'd Asses semblance made

Of Potters wandering on from door to door: Hope died, and fear itself in agony was lost !

But life of happier sort to me pourtray'd,

And other joys my fancy to allure; Some mighty gulf of separation past,

The bag-pipe, dinning on the midnight moor, I seem'd transported to another world :

In barn uplighted; and companions boon A thought resign'd with pain, when from the mast

Well met from far with revelry secure, The impatient mariner the sail unfurld,

Among the forest glades, when jocund June And, whistling, call'd the wind that hardly curld

Rolld fast along the sky his warm and genial moon. The silent sea. From the sweet thoughts of home And from all hope I was for ever hurl'd.

But ill they suited me,

- those journeys dark For me-farthest from earthly port to roam

O'er inoor and mountain, midnight theft to hatch! Was best, could I but shun the spot where man might To charm the surly House-dog's faithful bark,

Or hang on tip-toe at the lifted latch.

The gloomy lantern, and the dim blue match, And oft I thought (my fancy was so strong)

The black disguise, the warning whistle shrill, That I, at last, a resting-place had found;

And ear still busy on its nightly watch, «Here will I dwell,» said I, « my whole life long, Were not for me, brought up in nothing ill: Roaming the illimitable waters round:

Besides, on griefs so fresh my thoughts were brooding Here will I live:--of every friend disown'd

still.
And end my days upon the ocean flood.»-
To break my dream the vessel reach'd its bound: What could I do, unaided and unblest?
And homeless pear a thousand homes I stood,

My Father!

gone was every friend of thine: And near a thousand tables pined, and wanted food. And kindred of dead husband are at best

Small help; and, after marriage such as mine, By grief enfeebled, was I turn d adrift,

With little kindness would to me incline. Helpless as sailor cast on desert rock;

Ill was I then for toil or service fit: Nor morsel to my mouth that day did lift,

With tears whose course no effort could confine, Nor dared my hand at any door to knock.

By the road-side forgetful would I sit I lay where, with his drowsy Mates, the Cock

Whole hours, my idle arms in moping sorrow knit. From the cross timber of an out-house hung: Dismally tolld, that night, the city clock!

I led a wandering life among the fields; At morn my sick heart hunger scarcely stung, Contentedly, yet sometimes self-accused, Nor to the beggar's language could I frame my tongue. I lived upon what casual bounty yields,

Now coldly giveu, now utterly refused. So pass'd another day, and so the third ;

The ground I for my bed have often used: Then did I try in vain the crowd's resort.

But, what aftlicts my peace with keenest ruth -la deep despair, by frightful wishes stirrd,

Is, that I have my inner self abused, Near the sea-side I reachd a ruin'd Fort:

Forgone the home delight of constant truth, There, pains which nature could no more support, And clear and open soul, so prized in fearless youth,

come.

Three years thus wandering, often have I view'd,
Jo tears, the sun towards that country tend
Where my poor heart lost all its fortitude:
And now across this moor my steps I bend-
Oh! tell me whither-for no earthly friend

Have I. --She ceased, and weeping turo'd away;
As if because her tale was at an end
She wept;-because she had no more to say
Of that perpetual weight which on her spirit lay.

Poems founded on the affections.

gaze and

Of caves and trees :-and, when the regular wind THE BROTHERS."

Between the tropics fill'd the steady sail,

And blew with the same breath through days and weeks, a THESE Tourists, Heaven preserve us! needs must live

Lengthening invisibly its weary line A profitable life : some glance along,

Along the cloudless Main, he, in those hours Rapid and gay, as if the earth were air,

Of tiresome iodolence, would often hang And they were butterflies lo wheel about

Over the vessel's side, and Long as the summer lasted : some, as wise,

gaze ; Perch'd on the forehead of a jutting crag,

And, while the broad green wave and sparkling foam Pencil in hand and book upon the knee,

Flash'd round him images and hues that wrought Will look and scribble, scribble on and look,

In union with the employment of his heart, Uotil a man might travel twelve stout miles,

He, thus by feverish passion overcome,

Even with the organs of his bodily eye,
Or reap an acre of his neighbour's corn.
But, for that moping Son of Idleness,

Below him, in the bosom of the deep,
Why can he tarry yonder?-In our church-yard

Saw mountains,-saw the forms of sheep that grazed

On verdant hills-with dwellings among trees,
Is peither epitaplı por monument,
Tombstone nor name-only the turf we cread

Aud shepherds clad in the same country grey

Which he himself had worn.' And a few natural graves. » To Jane, his wife,

And now at last Thus spake the liomely Priest of Ennerdale.

From perils manifold, with some small wealth
It was a July evening; and he sate

Acquired by traffic mid the Indian Isles,
Cpon the long stone-seat beneath the eaves
Of bis old cottage, -as it chanced, that day,

To liis paternal home he is return'd,

With a determined purpose to resume
Employ'd in winter's work. Upon the stone

The life he had lived there ; both for the sake
His Wife sate near bim, leasing matted wool,
While, from the twin cards tooth'd with glittering wire, which io an only brother he has borne

Of many darling pleasures, and the love
He fed the spindle of liis youngest Child,
Wbo turo'd her large round wheel in the open air

In all liis hardships, since that happy time

When, whether it blew foul or fair, they two
With back and forward steps. Towards the field
In which the Parish Chapel stood alone,

Were brother Shepherds on their native hills.
Girt round with a bare ring of mossy wall,

- They were the last of all their race: and now, While half an hour went by, the l'riest had sent

Wben Leonard had approach'd his home, his heart

Fail'd in him; and, not venturing to inquire
Many a long look of wonder : and at last,

Tidings of one whom he so dearly loved,
Risen from his seat, beside the snow-white ridge
Or carded wool which the old man had piled

Towards the churchi-yard lie had turn'd aside;

That, as he knew in what particular spot
He laid his implements with gentle care,
Each in the other lock'd; and, down the path

His family were laid, he thence might learn

If still his Brother lived, or to the file That from his cottage to the church-yard led,

Another grave was added.-He had found He took his way, impatient to accost

Another grave,-uear which a full half-hour The Stranger, whom he saw still lingering there.

He had remain d; but, as le gazed, there grew

Such a confusion in his memory, 'T was one well known to him in former days,

That he began to doubt; and he had hopes A Shepherd-lad ;--who ere his sixteenth year

That he had seen this heap of turf before, Had left that calling, tempted to entrust

That it was not another grave; but one llis a pectations to the fickle winds

He had forgotten. Ile had lost his path, And perilous waters,— with the mariners

As up the vale, that afternoon, he walkid A fellow-mariner,-and so had fared

Through fields which once had been well known to him : Through twenty seasons; but he had been rear'd

And oh what joy the recollectiou now Among the mountains, and he in his heart

Sent to his heart! He lifted up

bis

eyes, Was half a Shepherd on the stormy seas.

And, looking round, imagined that he saw Oft in the piping shrouds had Leonard heard

Strange alteration wrought on every side The tones of waterfalls, and inland sounds

Among the woods and fields, and that the rocks,

And everlasting hills themselves were changed. This Pomu was intended to conclude a series of pastorals, the torne of which was laid among the mountains of Cumberland and " This description of the Calenturo is sketched from an imperWestmoreland, I mention this to apologise for the abruptness fect recollection of an admirable one in prose, by Mr Gilbert, author with which the porin begius.

of Tbe Hurricane.

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