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To count the echoings of my feet,

And watch the troubled flame.

And there in black and jaundic'd fit
A sad gloom-pamper’d Man to sit,

And listen to the roar :
When mountain Surges bellowing deep
With an uncouth monster leap

Plung'd foaming on the shore.

Then by the Lightning's blaze to mark
Some toiling tempest-shatter'd bark;

Her vain distress-guns hear :
And when a second sheet of light
Flash'd o'er the blackness of the night-

To see no Vessel there!

But Fancy now more gaily sings ;
Or if awhile she droop her wings,

As sky-larks mid the corn,
On summer fields she grounds her breast :
Th' oblivious Poppy o'er her nest

Nods, till returning morn.

O mark those smiling tears, that swell The open'd Rose! From heaven they fell,

And with the sun-beam blend ; Blest visitations from above : Such are the tender woes of Love

Fost'ring the heart, they bend !

When stormy Midnight howling round
Beats on our roof with clatt'ring sound,

To me your arms you'll stretch:

Great God ! you'll say—To us so kind,
O shelter from this loud bleak wind

The houseless, friendless wretch!

The tears that tremble down your cheek,
Shall bathe my kisses chaste and meek

In Pity's dew divine ;
And from your heart the sighs that steal
Shall make your rising bosom feel

The answ'ring swell of mine!

How oft, my Love! with shapings sweet
I paint the moment, we shall meet!

With eager speed I dart
I seize you in the vacant air,
And fancy, with a Husband's care

I press you to my heart !

'Tis said, on Summer's evening hour
Flashes the golden-colour'd flower *

A fair electric flame:
And so shall flash my love-charg'd eye
When all the heart's big ecstacy

Shoots rapid thro' the frame !

COMPOSED AT CLEVEDON,

SOMERSETSHIRE.

My pensive Sara ! thy soft cheek reclin'd Thus on mine arm, most soothing sweet it is

* Light from plants. In Sweden a very curious phenomenon has been observed on certain flowers by M. Haggern, lecturer in natural

To sit beside out cot, our cot o'er grown
With white-flower'd Jasmin, and the broad-leav'd Myrtle,
(Meet emblems they of Innocence and Love !)
And watch the clouds, that late were rich with light,
Slow-sad'ning round, and mark the star of eve
Serenely brilliant (such should wisdom be)
Shine opposite! How exquisite the scents
Snatch'd from yon bean-field! and the world so hush'd !
The stilly murmur of the distant Sea
Tells us of Silence. And that simplest Lute
Plac'd length-ways in the clasping casement, hark !
How by the desultory breeze caress’d,
Like some coy Maid half-yielding to her Lover,

history. One evening he perceived a faint flash of light repeatedly dart from a marigold. Surprised at such an uncommon appearance, he resolved to examine it with attention; and, to be assured it was no deception of the eye he placed a man near him, with orders to make a signal at the moment when he observed the light. They both saw it constantly at the same moment.

The light was most brilliant on marigolds of an orange or flame colour; but scarcely visible on pale ones.

The flash was frequently seen on the same flower two or three times in quick succession ; but more commonly at intervals of several minutes; and when several flowers in the same place emitted their light together, it could be observed at a considerable distance.

This phenomenon was remarked in the months of July and August at sun-set, and for half an hour, when the atmosphere was clear; but after a rainy day, or when the air was loaded with vapours nothing of it was seen.

The following flowers emitted flashes, more or less vivid, in this order:

1. The marigold, galendula officinalis.
2. Monk’s-hood, tropælum majus.
3. The or nge-lily, lilium bulb ferum.

4. The Indian pink, tagetes patula & erecta. From the rapidity of the flash, and other circumstances, it conjectured that there is something of electricity in this phenome

may be

non.

It pours such sweet upbraidings, as must needs
Tempt to repeat the wrong! And now its strings
Boldlier swept, the long sequacious notes
Over delicious surges sink and rise
Such a soft floating witchery of sound
As twilight Elfins make, when they at eve
Voyage on gentle gales from Fairy Land,
Where Melodies, round honey-dropping flowers
Footless and wild, like birds of Paradise,
Nor pause nor perch, hov'ring on untam'd wing.
And thus, my Love! as on the midway slope
Of yonder hill I stretch my limbs at noon,
Whilst thro' my half-clos'd eyelids I behold
The sunbeams dance, like diamonds, on the main,
And tranquil muse upon tranquillity;
Full many a thought uncall'd and undetain'd,
And many idle flitting phantasies,
Traverse my indolent and passive brain,
As wild and various as the random gales
That swell or flutter on this subject Lute !
And what if all of animated nature
Be but organic Harps diversly fram’d,
That tremble into thought, as o'er them sweeps,
Plastic and vast, one intellectual Breeze,
At once the Soul of each, and God of all ?
But thy more serious eye a mild reproof
Darts, O beloved Woman! nor such thoughts
Dim and unhallow'd dost thou not reject,
And biddest me walk humbly with my God.
Meek Daughter in the Family of Christ,
Well hast thou said and holily disprais'd
These shapings of the unregenerate mind,
Bubbles that glitter as they rise and break
On vain Philosophy's aye-babbling spring.

For never guiltless may I speak of Him,
Th’ Incomprehensible ! save when with awe
I praise him, and with Faith that inly feels ; *
Who with his saving mercies healed me,
A sinful and most miserable man
Wilder'd and dark, and gave me to possess
Peace, and this Cot, and Thee, heart-honour'd Maid !

TO AN UNFORTUNATE WOMAN.

WHOM THE AUTHOR HAD KNOWN IN THE DAYS OP HER

INNOCENCE.

Myrtle leaf, that ill besped

Pinest in the gladsome ray,
Soil'd beneath the common tread

Far from thy protecting spray !

When the Rustic o'er his sheaf

Carollid in the yellow vale,
Sad, I saw thee, headless leaf !

Love the dalliance of the gale.

Lightly didst thou, foolish thing!

Heave and flutter to his sighs,

* L'athée n'est point à mes yeux un faux esprit; je puis vivre avec lui aussi bien et mieux qu'avec le dévot, car il raisonne d'avantage, mais il lui manque un sens, et mon ame ne se fond point entièrement avec la sienne : il est froid au spectacle le plus ravissant, et il cherche un syllogisme lorsque je rends une action de grace.

“ Appel a l'impartiale postérité, par la Citoyenne Roland,” troisème partie, p. 67.

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