When thankfulness of heart is strong and deep! Dear bosom child we call thee, that dost steep [tames In rich reward all suffering; balm that All anguish; saint that evil thoughts and aims 'Takest away, and into souls dost creep, Like to a breeze from heaven. Shall I alone, I surely not a man ungently made, Call thee worst tyrant by which flesh is crost? Perverse, self-willed to own and to disown, Mere slave of them who never for thee prayed, [most! Still last to come where thou art wanted THE WILD DUCK'S NEST. THE imperial consort of the fairy king Owns not a sylvan bower; or gorgeous cell With emerald floored, and with purpureal shell Ceilinged and roofed; that is so fair a thing As this low structure-for the tasks of spring [swell TO THE POET, JOHN DYER, BARD of the Fleece, whose skilful genius made [bright; That work a living landscape fair and Nor hallowed less with musical delight Than those soft scenes through which thy childhood strayed, Those southern tracts of Cambria, "deep embayed, With green hills fenced, with ocean's murmur lulled," Though hasty fame hath many a chaplet culled [shade For worthless crowns, while in the pensive Of cold neglect she leaves thy head ungraced, [and still, Yet pure and powerful minds, hearts meek A grateful few, shall love thy modest lay, Long as the shepherd's bleating flock shall stray O'er naked Snowdon's wide aërial waste; Long as the thrush shall pipe on Grongar Hill! Prepared by one who loves the buoyant dwell; [brooding-wing. And spreads in steadfast peace her Words cannot paint the o'ershadowing yew tree-bough, THE PUBLICATION OF A CERTAIN POEM. See Milton's sonnet, beginning "A book was writ of late called Tetrachordon." " A BOOK came forth of late, called "Peter Bell;" [good Not negligent the style;-the matter?As aught that song record of Robin Hood; Or Roy, renowned through many a Scottish dell; But some (who brook these hackneyed themes full well, (blood) Nor heat at Tam o'Shanter's name their Waxed wroth, and with foul claws, a harpy brood, On bard and hero clamorously fell. Heed not, wild rover once through heath and glen, [choice, Who mad'st at length the better life thy Heed not such onset! nay, if praise of men To thee appear not an unmeaning voice, Lift up that gray-haired forehead, and rejoice In the just tribute of thy poet's pen! Of human life when first allowed to gleam TO S. H. EXCUSE is needless when with love sincerc My nerves from no such murmur shrink- Soft as the dorhawk's to a distant ear, COMPOSED IN ONE OF THE VALLEYS OF Its own, not left without a guiding chart, WESTMORELAND ON EASTER SUNDAY. WITH each recurrence of this glorious morn That saw the Saviour in His human frame Put on fresh raiment-till that hour unworn; Peace, [thorn. Whose temples bled beneath the platted Sad may be who heard your Sabbath chime Kind nature's various wealth was all your If rulers, trusting with undue respect Will thank you. Faultless doth the maid | That of its native self can nothing feed: Of good and pious works Thou art the seed, appear, No disproportion in her soul, no strife: From frailty, for that insight may the wife [may: That quickens only where Thou say'st it Unless Thou show to us Thine own true [lead. No man can find it. Father! Thou must Do Thou, then, breathe those thoughts into my mind way By which such virtue may in me be bred strówn With sights the ruefullest that flesh and bone Ever put on ; a miserable crowd, Sick, hale, old, young, who cried before that cloud, [groan !" "Thou art our king, O Death! to thee we I seem to mount those steps; the vapours gave Smooth way; and I beheld the face of one Sleeping alone within a mossy cave, With her face up to heaven; that seemed to have [gone; Pleasing remembrance of a thought foreA lovely beauty in a summer grave! "WEAK is the will of man, his judgment blind; Remembrance persecutes, and hope betrays; Heavy is woe; and joy, for human-kind, A mournful thing, so transient is the blaze!" Thus might he paint our lot of mortal days Who wants the glorious faculty assigned To elevate the more-than-reasoning mind, And colour life's dark cloud with orient rays. Imagination is that sacred power, Imagination lofty and refined; 'Tis hers to pluck the amaranthine flower Of Faith, and round the sufferer's temples bind [shower, Wreaths that endure affliction's heaviest And do not shrink from sorrow's keenest wind. IT is a beauteous evening, calm and free; God being with thee when we know it not. WHERE lies the land to which yon ship must go? Festively she puts forth in trim array; She cares for; let her travel where she may, rare, Of the old sea some reverential fear, Is with me at thy farewell, joyous bark! WITH ships the sea was sprinkled far and nigh, Like stars in heaven, and joyously it showed; Some lying fast at anchor in the road, Some veering up and down, one knew not why. A goodly vessel did I then espy Come like a giant from a haven broad; And lustily along the bay she strode, "Her tackling rich, and of apparel high, This ship was nought to me, nor I to her. Yet I pursued her with a lover's look ; This ship to all the rest did I prefer : When will she turn, and whither? She will brook [must stir: No tarrying; where she comes the winds On went she,-and due north her journey took. THE world is too much with us; late and soon, [powers: Getting and spending, we lay waste our Little we see in nature that is ours; We have given our hearts away, a sordid boon ! This sea that bares her bosom to the moon; For this, for every thing, we are out of tune; Have sight of Proteus rising from the sea; A VOLANT tribe of bards on earth are found, Is gently closing with the flowers of spring; How sweet it is, when mother fancy rocks The wayward brain, to saunter through a wood! An old place, full of many a lovely brood, Tall trees, green arbours, and groundflowers in flocks; [stocks, And wild rose tip-toe upon hawthorn Like a bold girl, who plays her agile pranks books, we know, Are a substantial world, both pure and good: Round these, with tendrils strong as flesh and blood, At wakes and fairs with wandering mounte- | Dreams, books, are each a world; and banks,[and mocks When she stands cresting the clown's head, The crowd beneath her. Verily I think, Such place to me is sometimes like a dream Or map of the whole world: thoughts, link by link, [gleam Enter through ears and eyesight, with such Of all things, that at last in fear I shrink, And leap at once from the delicious stream. PERSONAL TALK. I. I AM not one who much or oft delight Our pastime and our happiness will grow. store; Matter wherein right voluble I am : IV. NOR can I not believe but that hereby And thus from day to day my little boat Then gladly would I end my mortal days. |