Amidst aspersions, want, and oft disgrace, To dimmer eyes to open thought's deep mine, And soothe the aching hearts by sorrow riven; The wasting talents that to man are given, With song to gladden earth and light the way to heaven. VII. KIND Fosterer of the tried and tuneful race, To each, and, void of blame, to all their meed; And bless thee wheresoe'er thy way may lead; And guard thy wandering steps thro' dangers dark and drear. THE MAIDEN'S GRIEF. They sin who tell us love can die. SOUTHEY. I KNOW it is a vain wild dream, But oh! love dieth not with hope, It lights her funeral pyre, Which smoulders in the ruined heart, A slow consuming fire. I do not ask thee e'er to take This stricken heart of mine; I only tell thee of its flame, I do not ask thee to forego The charms that I have not, Proud wealth, and Beauty's witchery, To share my lonely lot. I have no hope in loving thee- To lead thy thoughts above. Thy form is ever in my sleep, Thy voice I ever hear— Thine is the name I breathe to heaven When bent in silent prayer. THE REQUEST. WHEN this life shall cease to be, In the birds' or zephyr's chime; Where the icy mountains frown, Where the moon looks bleakly down Hearts are far too cold to weep O'er the humble poet's sleep. Bear me to my sunny land, Where the airs are pure and bland; Where the birds are ever singing, Flowerets opening into bloom Where my father's ashes lie, Where the guardian seraphs sigh, |