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Maider, that with sullen brow
Sitst behind those virgins gay,
Leafless 'mid the blooms of May!
Him who lured thee and forsook,
Oft I watch'd with angry gaze, Fearful saw his pleading look,
Anxious heard his fervid phrase.
Soft the glances of the youth,
Soft his speech, and soft his sigh; But no sound like simple truth,
But no true love in his eye.
O give me, from this heartless scene releas’d,
Loathing thy pollated lot,
Hie thee, Maiden, hie thee hence!
Thou hast known deceit and folly,
Thou hast felt that vice is woe: With a musing melancholy
Inly arm’d, go, Maiden! go.
Mother sage of Self-dominion,
Firm thy steps, oh Melancholy!
Is the memory of past folly.
While she moults the firstling plumes, That had skimm'd the tender corn,
Or the bean-field's odorous blooms :
But oh, dear Anne! when midnight-wind
Soon with renovated wing
Shall she dare a loftier flight, l'pward to the day-star spring And embathe in heavenly light.
LINES COMPOSED IN A CONCERT
Through city-crowds must push his way, Heaves the proud Harlot her distended breast, To stroll alone through fields and wooda, lo intricacies of laborious song.
And hallow thus the Sabbath-Day.
And sweet it is, in summer-bower,
Sincere, affectionate and gay,
To celebrate one's marriage-day.
I send with deep regards of heart and 'head,
work to thee:
but shed A tear for FALCONER, wilt remember me!
But what is all, to his delight,
Who having long been doom'd to roam, Throws off the bundle from his back,
Before the door of his own home?
Home-sickness is a wasting pang ;
SOMETHING CHILDISH, BUT VERY This feel I hourly more and more:
If I had but two little wings,
To you I'd fly, my dear!
But thoughts like these are idle things,
And I stay here.
The world is all one's own. Nor while half - list'ning, 'mid delicious But then one wakes, and where am I?
All, all alone. To harp and song from lady's hand and
Sleep stays not, though a monarch bids:
So I love to wake ere break of day: Nor yet while gazing in sublimer mood For though my sleep be gone, On cliff, or cataract, in alpine dell;
Yet, while 'tis dark, one shuts one's lids, Nor in dim cave with bladdery sea-weed And still dreams on.
strew'd, Framing wild fancies to the ocean's swell;
THE HAPPY HUSBAND. Our sea-bard sang this song! which still he
sings, And sings for thee, sweet friend! Hark, I breathe, as from the heart, thy dear
Oft, oft methinks, the while with Thee Pity, hark!
And dedicated name, I hear Now mounts, now totters on the Tempest's A promise and a mystery,
A pledge of more than passing life,
A pulse of love, that ne'er can sleep! Cling to the shrowds!—In vain! The breakers A feeling that upbraids the heart
With happiness beyond desert, Death shrieks! With two alone of all his That gladness half requests to weep!
Nor bless I not the keener sense
Of transient joys, that ask no sting
From jealous fears, or coy denying; Say then, what muse inspir'd these genial But born beneath Love's brooding wing,
And into tenderness soon dying, And lit his spirit to so bright a flame? Wheel out their giddy moment, then The elevating thought of suffer'd pains, Resign the soul to love again. Which gentle hearts shall mourn; . but
chief, the name A more precipitated vein
Of notes, that eddy in the flow or Gratitude! Remembrances of Friend,
Of smoothest song, they come, they go, Or absent or no more! Shades of the Past, And leave their sweeter understrain Which Love makes Substance! Hence to Its own sweet self-a love of Thee
That seems, yet cannot greater be! O dear as long as life and memory last!
thee I send,
Η Υ Μ Ν
From dark and icy caverns call'd you forth,
Down those precipitous, black, jagged rocks
Who gave you your invulnerable life,
Here let the billows stiffen and have rest?
Ye Ice-falls! ye that from the Mountain's
Adown enormous ravines slope amain-
Cloath you with rainbows? Who, with
living flowers Till thou, still present to the bodily sense, of loveliest blue, spread garlands at your Didst vanish from my thought: entranc'd
feet? in prayer
GOD! let the Torrents, like a shout of Nations
Answer! and let the Ice-plains echo, God!
like sounds! Thou, the meanwhile, wast blending with And they too have a voice, yon piles of my thought,
snow, Yea, with my life and life's own secret joy: And in their perilous fall shall thunder, God! Till the dilating sonl, enrapt, transfus'd, Into the mighty vision passing-there As in her natural form, swellid vast to Ye living flowers that skirt th' eternal heaven!
frost ! Ye wild goats sporting round the eagle's
nest! Awake, my soul! not only passive praise Ye eagles, play-mates of the mountainThou owest! not alone these swelling tears,
storm! Mute thanks and secret extacy! Awake, Ye lightnings, the dread arrows of the Voice of sweet song! Awake, my Heart,
Ye signs and wonders of the element! Green Vales and icy Cliffs, all join my Hymn. Utter forth God, and fill the hills with
praise ! Thon first and chief, sole Sovran of the
Thou too, hoar mount! with thy skyO struggling with the Darkness all the night,
po'nting peaks, And visited all night by troops of stars, Oft from whose feet the Avalanche, unheard, Orwhen they climb the sky or when they sink : Shoots downward, glittering thro' the pure Companion of the Morning-Star at dawn,
serene, Thyself Earth's ROSY STAR, and of the dawn Into the depth of clouds that veil thy breastCo-herald! wake, O wake, and utter praise! Thou too again, stupendous Mountain! thou Who sank thy sunless pillars deep in Earth? That as I raise my head, awhile bow'd low Who fill'd thy Countenance with rosy light? In adoration, upward from thy base Who made thee Parent of perpetual streams ? Slow-travelling with dim eyes suffus’d with
Solemnly seemest, like a vapoury cloud, And you, ye five wild torrents fiercely glad! To rise before me-Rise, o ever rise, Who call'd you forth from night and utter Rise like a cloud of Incense, from the Earth!
Thou hingly Spirit throned among the hillo, upon thee
Thou dread Ambassador from Earth to ON OBSERVING A BLOSSOM
Heaven, Great Hierarch! tell thou the silent Sky, ON THE 1st OF FEBBUARY, 1796. And tell the Stars, and tell yon rising Sun, Earth, with her thousand voices, praises Sweet Flower! that peeping from thy God.
russet stem Unfoldest timidly, (for in strange sort This dark, freeze-coated, hoarse, teeth
Hath borrow'd Zephyr's voice, and gaz'd L 1 N E S
With blue voluptuous eye) alas, poor Flower! WRITTEN IN THE ALBUM AT ELBING BRODE, IN These are but Hatteries of the faithless year.
Perchance, escaped its unknown polar cave,
Ev'n now the keen North-East is on its way. I stood on Brocken's sovran height, and Flower that must perish ! shall I liken thee
To some sweet girl of too too rapid growth Woods crowding upon woods, hills over hills, Nipp'd by Consumption’mid untimely charms? A surging scene, and only limited
Or to Bristowa's Bard, the wonderous boy! By the blue distance. Heavily my way An Amar which Earth scarce seem'd to Downward I dragg'd through fir- groves
Blooming 'mid poverty's drear wintry waste, Where bright green moss heaves in sepul- Till Disappointment came and pelting Wrong
Beat it to Earth ? or with indignant grief Speckled with sunshine; and, but seldom Shall I compare thee to poor Poland's Hope,
Bright flower of Hope kill'd in the opening The sweet bird's song became an hollow
Farewell, sweet blossom! better fate be thine And the breeze, murmuring indivisibly,
And mock my boding! Dim similitudes Preserved its solemn murmur most distinct Weaving in inoral strains, I've stolen one From many a note of many a waterfall,
hour And the brook's chatter; 'mid whose islet From anxious SELF, Life's cruel Task-Master!
And the warm wooings of this sunny day The dingy kidling with its tinkling bell
Tremble along my frame and harmonize Leapt frolicsome, or old romantic goat
Th' attemper'd organ, that even saddest Sat, his white beard slow waving. I moved on
thoughts In low and languid mood : for I had found Mix with some sweet sensations, like harsh That outward forms, the loftiest, still receive
tunes Their finer influence from the life within:
Play'd deftly on a soft-toned instrument.
THE EOLIAN HARP.
My pensive Sara! thy soft cheek reclined o dear, dear England ! how my longing eye Thus on mine arm, most soothing sweet it is Turned westward , shaping in the steady To sit beside our cot, our cot o'ergrown
With white-flower'd Jasmin, and the broadThy sands and high white cliffs! My native
leav'd Myrtle, Land!
(Meet emblems they of Innocence and Love!) Filled with the thought of thee this heart And watch the clouds, that late were rich was proud,
with light, Yea, mine eye swam with tears: that all Slow sad'ning round, and mark the star of eve
Serenely brilliant (such should wisdom be) From sovran Brocken, woods and woody hills, Shine opposite! How exquisite the scents Floated away, like a departing dream,
Snatch'd from yon bean-field! and the world Feeble and dim! Stranger, these impulses
so hush'd! Blame thou not lightly; nor will I profane, The stilly murmur of the distant Sea With basty judgment or injurious doubt, Tells us of Silence. And that simplest Late. That man's sublimer spirit, who can feel Placed length-ways in the clasping casement. That God is every where! the God who
hark ! framed
How by the desultory breeze caressid, Mankind to be one mighty Family,
Like some coy maid half yielding to her lover. Himself our Father, and the world our Home. It pour's such sweet upbraidings, as must