Stiff evergreens, whose spreading foliage mocks
Want's barren soil, and the bleak frost of age,
And bigotry's mad fire-invoking rage!

O meek retiring spirit! we will climb,
Cheering and cheered, this lovely hill sublime;
And from the stirring world up-lifted high,
(Whose noises, faintly wafted on the wind,
To quiet musings shall attune the mind,
And oft the melancholy theme supply)

There, while the prospect through the gazing eye Pours all its healthful greenness on the soul, We'll smile at wealth, and learn to smile at fame, Our hopes, our knowledge, and our joys the same, As neighbouring fountains image, each the whole: Then when the mind hath drunk its fill of truth We'll discipline the heart to pure delight, Rekindling sober joy's domestic flame.

They whom I love shall love thee, honoured youth! Now may Heaven realize this vision bright!

LINES TO W. L.

WHILE HE SANG A SONG TO PURCELL'S MUSIC.

HILE my young

W hues,

cheek retains its healthful

And I have many friends who hold me dear;
L- -! methinks, I would not often hear

Such melodies as thine, lest I should lose
All memory of the wrongs and sore distress,
For which my miserable brethren weep!
But should uncomforted misfortunes steep
My daily bread in tears and bitterness;
And if at death's dread moment I should lie

With no beloved face at my bed-side, To fix the last glance of my closing eye,

[guide,

Methinks, such strains, breathed by my angel

Would make me pass the cup of anguish by,
Mix with the blest, nor know that I had died!

ADDRESSED TO

A YOUNG MAN OF FORTUNE

WHO ABANDONED HIMSELF TO AN INDOLENT

H

AND CAUSELESS MELANCHOLY.

ENCE that fantastic wantonness of

woe,

O Youth to partial Fortune vainly dear! To plundered want's half-sheltered hovel go, Go, and some hunger-bitten infant hear Moan haply in a dying mother's ear:

Or when the cold and dismal fog-damps brood O'er the rank church-yard with sear elm-leaves strewed,

Pace round some widow's grave, whose dearer part Was slaughtered, where o'er his uncoffined limbs The flocking flesh-birds screamed! Then, while thy heart

Groans, and thine eye a fiercer sorrow dims, Know (and the truth shall kindle thy young mind) What nature makes thee mourn, she bids thee heal! O abject! if, to sickly dreams resigned, All effortless thou leave life's common-weal A prey to tyrants, murderers of mankind.

SONNET TO THE RIVER OTTER.

D

EAR native brook! wild streamlet of the West!

How many various-fated years have past, What happy, and what mournful hours, since last I skimmed the smooth thin stone along thy breast, Numbering its light leaps! yet so deep imprest Sink the sweet scenes of childhood, that mine eyes I never shut amid the sunny ray,

But straight with all their tints thy waters rise,

Thy crossing plank, thy marge with willows gray, And bedded sand that, veined with various dyes, Gleamed through thy bright transparence! On my Visions of childhood! oft have ye beguiled [way Lone manhood's cares, yet waking fondest sighs: Ah! could I be once more a careless child!

SONNET.

COMPOSED ON A JOURNEY HOMEWARD;

THE AUTHOR HAVING RECEIVED INTELLIGENCE

OF THE BIRTH OF A SON, SEPT. 20, 1796.

OF

FT o'er
my brain does that strange fancy roll
Which makes the present (while the flash
doth last)

Seem a mere semblance of some unknown past,
Mixed with such feelings, as perplex the soul
Self-questioned in her sleep; and some have said1

1 Ην που ἡμῶν ἡ ψύχη πρὶν ἐν τῷδε τῷ ἀνθρωπίνῳ εïdel yevέodai.-Plat. in Phædon.

We lived, ere yet this robe of flesh we wore.

O my sweet baby! when I reach my door,
If heavy looks should tell me thou art dead,
(As sometimes, through excess of hope, I fear)
I think that I should struggle to believe

Thou wert a spirit, to this nether sphere Sentenced for some more venial crime to grieve; Did'st moan, then spring to meet Heaven's quick reprieve,

While we wept idly o'er thy little bier!

SONNET.

TO A FRIEND WHO ASKED, HOW I FELT WHEN THE NURSE FIRST PRESENTED MY INFANT TO ME.

CH

HARLES! my
slow heart was only sad, when
I scanned that face of feeble infancy! [first

For dimly on my thoughtful spirit burst
All I had been, and all my child might be !
But when I saw it on its mother's arm,

And hanging at her bosom (she the while Bent o'er its features with a tearful smile) Then I was thrilled and melted, and most warm Impressed a father's kiss: and all beguiled

Of dark remembrance and presageful fear,
I seemed to see an angel form appear—
'Twas even thine, beloved woman mild!
So for the mother's sake the child was dear,
And dearer was the mother for the child.

THE VIRGIN'S CRADLE-HYMN.

COPIED FROM A PRINT OF THE VIRGIN, IN A

ROMAN CATHOLIC VILLAGE IN GERMANY.

D

ORMI, Jesu! Mater ridet

Quæ tam dulcem somnum videt,
Dormi, Jesu! blandule!

Si non dormis, Mater plorat,

Inter fila cantans orat,

Blande, veni, somnule.

ENGLISH.

SLEEP, sweet babe! my cares beguiling;

Mother sits beside thee smiling;
Sleep, my darling, tenderly!

If thou sleep not, mother mourneth,
Singing as her wheel she turneth :
Come, soft slumber, balmily!

I

EPITAPH ON AN INFANT.

TS balmy lips the infant blest

Relaxing from its mother's breast,
How sweet it heaves the happy sigh
Of innocent satiety !

And such my infant's latest sigh!
O tell, rude stone! the passer by,
That here a pretty babe doth lie,
Death sang to sleep with Lullaby.