If there were one among us who had heard That Leonard Ewbank was come home again, From the Great Gavel,* down by Leeza's banks, And down the Enna, far as Egremont, see Hanging in the open air-but, O good Sir! This is sad talk-they'll never sound for him Living or dead.-When last we heard of him, He was in slavery among the Moors Upon the Barbary coast.-'Twas not a little That would bring down his spirit; and no doubt, Before it ended in his death, the Youth Was sadly crossed.-Poor Leonard! when we parted, He took me by the hand, and said to me, To live in peace upon his father's land, Leonard. He would himself, no doubt, be happy then And that he had one Brother Priest. That is but A fellow-tale of sorrow. From his youth James, though not sickly, yet was delicate; And Leonard being always by his side Had done so many offices about him, That, though he was not of a timid nature, Yet still the spirit of a mountain-boy In him was somewhat checked; and, when his Brother Was gone to sea, and he was left alone, The little color that he had was soon Stolen from his cheek; he drooped, and pined, and pined Leonard. But these are all the graves of full-grown men ! * The Great Gavel, so called, I imagine, from its resemblance to the gable end of a house, is one of the highest of the Cumberland mountains. The Leeza is a river which flows into the Lake of Ennerdale. He was the child of all the dale-he lived Three months with one, and six months with another; And wanted neither food, nor clothes, nor love: And many, many happy days were his. (A practice till this time unknown to him) He sought his brother Leonard.-You are moved! Forgive me, Sir: before I spoke to you, How did he die at last? Priest. But this Youth, One sweet May morning, (It will be twelve years since when Spring returns) He had gone forth among the new-dropped lambs, With two or three companions, whom their course Of occupation led from height to height Under a cloudless sun-till he, at length, Through weariness, or, haply, to indulge The humor of the moment, lagged behind. You see yon precipice-it wears the shape Of a vast building made of many crags; And in the midst is one particular rock That rises like a column from the vale, Whence by our shepherds it is called THE PILLAR. Upon its aëry summit crowned with heath, The loiterer, not unnoticed by his comrades, Lay stretched at ease; but, passing by the place [gone. On their return, they found that he was No ill was feared; till one of them by chance Entering, when evening was far spent, the house Which at that time was James's home, there learned That nobody had seen him all that day: The morning came, and still he was unheard of: The neighbors were alarmed, and to the brook Some hastened: some ran to the lake: ere noon They found him at the foot of that same The Vicar did not hear the words: and now rock He pointed towards his dwelling-place, en Dead, and with mangled limbs. The third day after I buried him, poor Youth, and there he lies! You say that he saw many happy years? Leonard. And all went well with him?— Priest. If he had one, the youth had twenty homes. Leonard. And you believe, then, that his mind was easy? Priest. Yes, long before he died, he found that time Is a true friend to sorrow; and unless His thoughts were turned on Leonard's luckless fortune, He talked about him with a cheerful love. Leonard. He could not come to an un hallowed end! Priest. Nay, God forbid! You recollect I mentioned treating That Leonard would partake his homely fare: The other thanked him with an earnest voice; But added, that, the evening being calm, He would pursue his journey. So they parted. It was not long ere Leonard reached a grove That overhung the road: he there stopped short, And, sitting down beneath the trees, reAll that the Priest had said: his early years viewed Were with him :—his long absence, cherished And thoughts which had been his an hour hopes, All pressed on him with such a weight that before, now O, happy Britain! region all too fair Thus fares it still with all that takes its birth From human care, or grows upon the breast of earth. Hence, and how soon! that war of venge ance waged By Guendolen against her faithless lord; bear That name through every age, her hatred to declare. So speaks the Chronicle, and tells of Lear Nor can the winds restore his simple gift. rest. The feats of Arthur and his knightly peers; Of Arthur,-who to upper light restored, With that terrific sword Which yet he brandishes for future war, Shall lift his country's fame above the polar star! What wonder, then, in such ample field Into a garden stored with Poesy; That, wanting not wild grace, are from all mischief free! A KING more worthy of respect and love Than wise Gorbonian ruled not in his day; And grateful Britain prospered far above All neighboring countries through his righteous sway; He poured rewards and honors on the good; The oppressor he withstood; And while he served the Gods with rever- He died, whom Artegal succeeds-his son; The nobles leagued their strength From realm to realm the humble Exile went, Dire poverty assailed; And, tired with slights his pride no more could brook, He towards his native country cast a longing look. Fair blew the wished-for wind-the voyage sped; He landed; and, by many dangers scared, How changed from him who, born to highest (Such it may seem) if I thy crown have place, Had swayed the royal mace, Flattered and feared, despised yet deified, In Troynovant, his seat by silver Thames's side! From that wild region where the crownless King Lay in concealment with his scanty train, Supporting life by water from the spring, And such chance food as outlaws can obtain, Unto the few whom he esteems his friends A messenger he sends; borne, Thy royal mantle worn: I was their "atural guardian; and 'tis just That now I should restore what hath been held in trust." Awhile the astonished Artegal stood mute, Then thus exclaimed: "To me, of titles shorn, And stripped of power! me, feeble, destitute, And from their secret loyalty requires desires. While he the issue waits, at early morn Wandering by stealth abroad, he chanced to hear A startling outcry made by hound and horn, From which the tusky wild boar flies in fear; And, scouring toward him o'er the grassy plain, Behold the hunter train! He bids his little company advance despite." "I do not blame thee," Elidure replied; And thou from all disquietude be free. With seeming unconcern and steady coun- Were this same spear, which in my hand I tenance. The royal Elidure, who leads the chase, Hath checked his foaming courser :-can it be! Methinks that I should recognize that face, Though much disguised by long adversity! He gazed rejoicing, and again he gazed, Confounded and amazed grasp, The British sceptre, here would I to thee The symbol yield; and would undo this clasp, If it confined the robe of sovereignty. And joyless sylvan sport, While thou art roving, wretched and forlorn, "It is the king, my brother!" and, by sound Thy couch the dewy earth, thy roof the Of his own voice confirmed, he leaps upon the ground. forest thorn!" Then Artegal thus spake: "I only sought Within this realm a place of safe retreat; Long, strict, and tender was the embrace he Beware of rousing an ambitious thought; gave, Feebly returned by daunted Artegal; The attendant lords withdrew; And, while they stood upon the plain apart, Thus Elidure, by words, relieved his struggling heart. "By heavenly Powers conducted, we have met; -O Brother! to my knowledge lost so long, Beware of kindling hopes, for me unmeet! Thou art reputed wise, but in my mind And this for one who cannot imitate Lifted in magnanimity above Aught that my feeble nature could perform, A shadow in a hated land, while all Of glad or willing service to thy share would fall." "Believe it not," said Elidure; "respect Awaits on virtuous life, and ever most Attends on goodness with dominion decked, Which stands the universal empire's boast; This can thy own experience testify: Nor shall thy foes deny That, in the gracious opening of thy reign, Our father's spirit seemed in thee to breathe again. And what if o'er that bright unbosoming The sky, the gay green field, Are vanished; gladness ceases in the groves, And trepidation strikes the blackened moun Seems the wide world, far brighter than before! Even so thy latent worth will re-appear, Gladdening the people's heart from shore to shore ; For youthful faults ripe virtues shall atone; Re-seated on thy throne, Proof shalt thou furnish that misfortune, pain, And sorrow, have confirmed thy native right to reign. But, not to overlook what thou may'st know, Or from my purpose ruin may ensue. wait Such changes in thy estate As I already have in thought devised; The Story tells what courses were pursued, Then to his people cried, "Receive your lord, Gorbonian's first-born son, your rightful king restored!" The people answered with a loud acclaim: Yet more;-heart-smitten by the heroic deed, The reinstated Artegal became Earth's noblest penitent; from bondage freed Of vice-thenceforth unable to subvert Long did he reign; and, when he died, the tear Of universal grief bedewed his honored bier. Thus was a Brother by a Brother saved; With whom a crown (temptation that hath set Discord in hearts of men till they have braved Their nearest kin with deadly purpose met) 'Gainst duty weighed, and faithful love, did seem TO A BUTTERFLY. I know not if you sleep or feed. This plot of orchard-ground is ours: |