TO THE EVENING STAR. 181 TO THE EVENING STAR. WHEN from the blue sky traces of the day-light Homewards weary man plods from his labour; Thou art the lover's star, thou to his fond heart Thou to the sad heart beacon art of solace, Star of the mariner! when the dreary ocean On the dear cottage, where sit by the warm hearth, Steals like a zephyr. R Farewell, thou bright Star! when woe and anguish Soon shall the day come, soon shall the night flee, Glitter'st through the storm, and 'mid the blaze of morning, Thus through this dark earth holds on the good man, Mingles with heaven. THE DREAM. ANON. DISTRACTED with anguish, and weary in mind, I dream'd that the ardour of love made me bold, I repeated the vows I had utter'd of old; That my tongue was ne'er false, and my heart never cold; And implored her to chase away sorrow and pain. THE KING'S LEA-MERE. With transport I saw when my angel did hear, I wept with delight, she alone had the art, From the wild war of passions my bosom to save; I bless'd the fair beam that spoke peace to my heart, And swore in my rapture, we never should part, But live in one mansion,-repose in one grave! But ah! cruel fancy, how illusive thy pleasure, I'll wear out my sad life, in sorrow and pain. 183 The foregoing rhapsody, taken down from the recitation of a Lady, is ascribed to the celebrated Rev. Dr. C*******, and is said to have been written by him, while a student at college. THE KING'S LEA-MERE. THE damsel stood to watch the fight, And they brought to her feet her own true knight, She knelt by him, his wounds to bind, "O let not," he said, "while yet I live, But with thy sweet lips, a last kiss give, Around his neck, she wound her arms, She drew him to the lake's steep side, Their true blood mingled in King's Lea-Mere, From the historical Novel of " Maid Marian." FROM SCHILLER'S " WILHELM TELL." THE lake's dimpled waters to bathing invite; On its shore sleeps a youth lapp'd in dreams of delight, Whilst he hears a soft murmur like flutes in the air, Like voices of angels in Paradise fair; But when he awakes from his soothing repose, And from under the billow, resounds, thou art mine! Farewell, sunny fields, where my cattle have fed, The lofty crags thunder, and totters the way; In the Zeitschwingen, there is an article entitled "Eight Days in Weimar and Jena," which contains the following passage:"The evening sun found me on Schiller's grave, which was pointed out to me by the sexton. In the park of Weimar, a dog was buried, and the place where it lies, is marked by a stone with an inscription;-but the graves of Herder and Schiller are not even honoured with their immortal names. Thus have I satisfied my curiosity, and seen Weimar, and seen that there was not much The epoch when Wieland, Herder, Goethe, and Schiller lived here, may indeed have been a different one; but it was not the right one, as it has gone by without leaving a trace behind." Frederic Schiller, M. D. Professor of Philosophy at Jena, was born at Morbach, in Wurtemburgh, 1759, died 1805. to see. |