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Driven by the bomb's incessant thunder- I heard my neighbours in their beds, comstroke

plain To loathsome vaults, where heart-sick of many things which never troubled me ; anguish tossed,

[lost! Of feet still bustling round with busy glee ; Hope died, and fear itself in agony vas Of looks where common kindness had no

part : Some mighty gulf of separation past, Of service done with careless cruelty, I seemed transported to another world - Fretting the fever round the languid heart ; A thought resigned with pain, when from And groans, which, as they said, might the mast

make a dead man start. The impatient mariner the sail unfurled, And whistling, called the wind that hardly These things just served to stir the torpid curled

(of home The silent sea. From the sweet thoughts

sense, and from all hope I was for ever hurled.

Nor pain nor pity in my bosom raised. For me-farthest from earthly port to roam

With strength did memory return ; and, Was hest, could I but shun the spot where Dismissed, again on open day I gazed,

thence man might come.

At houses, men, and common light amazed. And oft I thought (my fancy was so strong) Came where beneath the trees a faggot

The lanes I sought, and as the sun retired, That I, at last, a resting-place had found; ** Here will I'dwell," said I, “my whole The travellers saw me weep, my fate in.

blazed ;

(quired, life long, Roaming the illimitable waters round :

Aud gave me food, -and rest, more welHere will I live, of every friend disowned,

come, more desired. And end my days upon the ocean flood.' To break my dream the vessel reached its They

with their panniered asses semblance

made bound :

(stood, And homeless near a thousand homes i of potters wandering on from door to door: And near a thousand tables pined, and But life of happier sort to me portrayed, wanted food.

And other joys my fancy to allure ;

The bag-pipe dinning on the midnight By grief enfeebled, was I turned adrift,

inoor, Helpless as sailor cast on desert rock ;

In barn uplighted, and companions boon Nor morsel to my mouth that day diá lift, Well met from far with revelry secure, Nor dared my hand at any door to knock. Among the forest glades, when jocund I lay where, with his drowsy mates, the cock Rolled fast along the sky his warm and

(genial moon. From the cross timber ofan out-house hung: Dismally tolled that night the city clock ! At mom my sick heart hunger scarcely But ill they suited me—those journeys dark stung,

(frame my tongue. O'er moor and mountain, midnight theft Nor to the beggar's language could I

to hatch !

(bark,

To charm the surly house-dog's faithful So passed another day, and so the third : Or hang on tip-toe at the lifted latch. Then did I try in vain the crowd's resort. Thę gloomy lantern, and the dim blue -o deep despair, by frightful wishes match,

(shrill, stirred,

The black disguise, the warning whistle Near the sea-side I reached a ruined fort ; And ear still busy on its nightly watch, There pains, which nature could no more Were not for me, brought up in nothing ill; support,

(fall, Besides, on griefs so fresh my thoughts With blindness linked, did on my vitals were brooding still. And after many interruption: short Of hideous sense, I sank, nor step could What could I do, unaided and unblest ?

(recall. My father! gone was every friend of thine: Unsought for was the help that did my life And kindred of dead husband are at best

Small help ; and after marriage such as Borne to an hospital, I lay with brain

mine, Drowsy and weak, and shattered memory : | With little kindness would to me incline,

crawl;

Ill was I then for toil or service fit : Foregone the home delight of constant truth With tears whose course no effort could And clear and open soul, so prized in confine,

fearless youth. By the roadside forgetful would I sit Whole hours, my dle arms in moping Three years ti us wandering, often have 1 sorrow knit.

viewed,

In tears, the sun towards that country tend I led a wafdering life among the fields : Where my poor heart lost all its fortitude : Contentedly. yet sometimes self-accused, And now across this moor my steps I bend I lived upon what casual bounty yields, -Oh, tell me whither-for no earthly Now coldly given, now utterly refused.

friend

[away. The ground ( for my bed have often Have I.-She ceased, and weeping iurned used :

As if because her tale was at an end But, what afflicts my peace with keenest She wept ; because she had no more to say ruth

Or that perpetual weight which on her spirit Is, that I have my inner self abused,

lay.

Poems Referring to the Period of Childhood.

My heart leaps up when I behold

A rainbow in the sky :
So was it when my life began ;
So is it now I am a man :
So be it when I shall grow old,

Or let me die !
The child is father of the man ;
And I could wish my days to be
Bound each to each by natural piety.

FORESIGHT,
That is work of waste and ruin-
Do as Charles and I are doing
Strawberry-blossoms, one and all,
We must spare them-here are many :
Look at it--the flower is small,
Small and low, though fair as any :
Do not touch it ! summers two
I am older, Anne, than you.

TO A BUTTERFLY.
STAY near me-do not take thy flight!
A little longer stay in sight!
Much converse do I find in thee,
Historian of my infancy!
Float near me, do not yet depart !
Dead times revive in thee :
Thou bring st, gay creature as thou art !
A solemr image to my heart,
My father's family!
Oh! pleasant, pleasant were the days,
The time, when, in our childish plays,
My sister Emmeline and I
Together chased the butterfly !
A very hunter did I rush
Upon the prey.-- with leaps and springs
I followed on from brake to bush ;
But she, God love her ! feared to brush
The dust from off its wings.

Pull the primrose, sister Anne !
Pull as many as you can.
-Here are daisies, take your fill;
Pansies, and the cuckow flower :
Of the lofty daffodil
Make your bed, and make your bower :
Fill your lap, and fill your bosom ;
Only spare the strawberry-blossom !
Primroses, the spring may love them :
Summer knows but little of them :
Violets, a barren kind,
Withered on the ground must lie ;
Daisies leave no fruit behind
When the pretty flowerets die ;
Pluck them, and another year
As many will be blowing here.
God has given a kindlier power
To the favoured strawberry-flower.
When the months of spring are filed
Hither let us bend our walk ;

Larking berries, ripe and red,

Round as a pillow and whiter than milk, Then will hang on every stalk,

And softer than if it were covered with silk. Each withir its leafy bower ;

Sometimes he'll hide in the cave of a rock, And for that promise spare the flower ! Then whistle as shrill as the buzzard cock ;

-Yet seek him, -and what shall you find

in the place ?

Nothing but silence and empty space ; CHARACTERISTICS OF A CHILD Save, in a corner a heap of dry leaves, THREE YEARS OLD.

That hes left, for a bed, to beggars or

thieves ! LOVING she is, and tractable, though wild ; And innocence hath privilege in her As soon as 'tis daylight, to-morrow, with me To dignify arch looks and laughing eyes ; You shall go to the orchard, and then you And seats of cunning i and the pretty round will see

(rout, Of trespasses, aftected to provoke

That he has been there, and made a great Mock-chastisement and partnershipin play. And cracked the branches, and strewn And, as a faggot sparkles on the hearth, them about ;

(upright twig Not less if unattended and alone

Heaven grant that he spare but that one Than when both young and old sit gathered That looked up at the sky so proud and big And take delighi in its activity, (round All last summer, as well you know, Even so this happy creature of herself Studded with apples, a beautiful show! Is all-sufficient ; solitude to her Is blithe society, who fills the air

Hark! over the roof he makes a pause, With gladness and involuntary songs. And growls as if he would fix his claws Light are her sallies as the tripping fawn's Right in the slates, and with a huge rattle Forth-startled from the fern where she lay Drive them down like men in a battle ; couched;

-But let him range round ; he does us no Unthought of, unexpected, as the stir

harm, Of the soft breeze ruffling the meadow! We build up the fire, we're snug and warm; flowers;

Untouched by his breath see the candle Or from before it chasing wantonly

shines bright, The many-coloured images impressed And burns with a clear and steady light : Upon the bosom of a placid lake

Books have we to read, but that half

stifled knell Alas!'tis the sound of the eight o'clock bell.

-Come now, we'll to bed and when we ADDRESS TO A CHILD DURING are there A BOISTEROUS WINTER He may work his own will and what shall EVENING.

He may knock at the door, -we ll not let him in ;

(his din; BY A FEMALE FRIEND OF THE AUTHOR. May drive at the windows, - we'll laugh at

Let him seek his own home wherever it be; What way does the wind come? What Here's a cozie warm house for Edward way does he go?

and me. He rides over the water and over the snow, Through wood, and through vale; and o'er rocky height,

THE MOTHER'S RETURN. Which the goat cannot climb takes his

BY THE SAME. sounding flight; He tosses about in every bare tree,

A MONTH, sweet little ones, is passed As, if you look up, you plainly may see ; Since your dear mother went away, But how he will come and whither he goes And she to-morrow will return; There's never a scholar in England knows. To-morrow is the happy day. He will suddenly stop in a cunning nook Oh, blessed tidings ! thought of joy! And ring a sharp 'larum !- but if you The eldest heard with steady glee; should look,

(snow Silent he stood ; then laughed amain. There's nothing to see but a cushion of And shouted, “Mother; come to me!"

(we care?

Louder and louder did he shout,
With wirless hope to bring her near;

LUCY GRAY;OR, SOLITUDE. “Nay, patience! patience, little boy! Your tender mother cannot hear."

OFT I had heard of Lucy Gray:

And, when I crossed the wild,
I told of hills, and far-off towns,

I chanced to see at break of day
And long, long vales to travel through;- The solitary child.
He listens, puzzled, sore perplexed,
But he submits; what can he do?

No mate, no comrade Lucy knew;

She dwelt on a wide moorNo strise disturbs his sister's breast:

The sweetest thing that ever grew
She wars not with the mystery

Beside a human door!
Of time and distance, night and day,
The bonds of our humanity.

You yet may spy thfawn at play,

The hare upon the green; Her joy is like an instinct, joy

But the sweet face of Lucy Gray
Of kitten, bird, or summer fly;

Will never more be seen.
She dances, runs without an aim,
She chatters in her ecstasy.

To-night will be a stormy night

You to the town must go;
Her brother now takes up the note, And take a lantern, child, to light
And echoes back his sister's glee;

Your mother through the snow."
They hug the infant in my arms,
As if to force his sympathy.

“That, father, will I gladly do:

"Tis scarcely afternoonThen, settling into fond discourse,

The minster-clock has just struck two, We rested in the garden bower;

And yonder is the moon."
While sweetly shone the evening sun
In his departing hour.

At this the father raised his hook,
We told o'er all that we had done,-

And snapped a faggot band; Our rambles by the swift brook's side

He plied his work;--and Lucy took Far as the willow-skirted pool,

The lantern in her hand. Where two fair swans together glide.

Not blither is the mountain roe: We talked of change, of winter gone,

With many a wanton stroke
Of green leaves on the hawthorn spray,

Her feet disperse the powdery snow,
Of birds that build their nests and sing, That rises up like smoke.
And “all since mother went away."

The storm came on before its time:
To her these tales they will repeat, She wandered up and down;
To her our new-born tribes will show,

And many a hill did Lucy climb;
The goslings green, the ass's colt,

But never reached the town. The lambs that in the meadow go.

The wretched parents all that night -But, see, the evening star comes forth!

Went shouting far and wide; To bed the children must depart;

But there was neither sound nor sight A moment's heaviness they feel,

To serve them for a guide. A sadness at the heart: 'Tis gone—and in a merry fit

At day-break on a hill they stood They run up stairs in gamesome race;

That overlooked the moor; I, too, infected by their mood,

And thence they saw the bridge of wond, I could have joined the wanton chase.

A furlong from their door. Five minutes past-and, oh, the change! They wept, and turning homeward, cried, Asleep upon their beds they lie;

" In heaven we all shall meet;" Their busy limbs in perfect rest,

When in the snow the mother spied And closed the sparkling eye.

The print of Lucy s feel.

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