Yet gentle Hope on every stage,

The comforter, attends; And if the toil-worn traveller droops

With heaviness opprest, She cheers his heart, and bids him see

The distant place of rest.

To school the little exile goes,

And quits his mother's arms; What then shall soothe his earliest woes,

When novelty has lost its charms, Condemned to suffer through the day

Restraints that no rewards repay, And cares, where love has no concern!

If memory still the present sours, Hope lightens as she counts the hours

That hasten his return.

A sunshine of good will and cheerfulness
Enlivened all around. Oh! marvel not,
If, in the morning of his fair career,
Which promised all that honour could bestow
On high desert, the youth was summoued hence!
His soul required no farther discipline,
Pure as it was, and capable of heaven. -
Upon the spot from whence he just had seen
His General borne away, the appointed ball
Reached him. But not in that Gallician ground
Was it his fate, like many a British leart,
To mingle with the soil; the sea received
His morial relics,-to a watery grave
Consigned so near bis native shore, so near
His farber's house, that they who loved him best,
Unconscious of its import, heard the gun
Whichi fired his knell :- Alas! if it were known
When, in the strife of nations dreadful Death
Mows down, with indiscriminating swccp,
His thousands ten times told,--if it were known
What ties are severed then, what ripening hopes
Blasted, what virtues in their bloom cut off,
How far the desolating scourge extends,
How wide the misery spreads, what hearts beneath
Their grief are broken, or survive to feel
Always the irremediable loss,
Oh! who of woman born could bear the thought!
Wlio bul would join with fervent piety
The prayer that asketh in our time for peace!-
Nor in our time alone!- Enable us,
Father which art in Heaven! but to receive
And keep thy word, thy kingdom then should come,
Thy will be done on carth, the victory
Accumplished over Sin as well as Deatlı,
And the great scheme of Providence fulfilled!

Youth comes, and eager fancy hails

The long-expected days: Youth comes, and he is duom'd to prove The fears and jealousies of love,

And all its long delays. But when the passions with their might

Afflict the doubtful breast, Hope bids him yet expect delight,

And happiness, and rest.

LOVE. Taey sin who tell us love can die; With life all other passions fly, All others are but vanity. In heaven ambition cannot dwell, Nor avarice in the vaults of hell; Earthly these passions as of earth, They perish when they have their birth; But love is indestructible,Its holy flame for ever burneth,-From heaven it came, to heaven returnedh; Too oft on earth a troubled quest, At times deceived, at times opprest; It here is tried and purified, And hath in heaven its perfect rest; It soweth here with toil and care, But the harvest time of Love is there. Oh when a mother meets on high The babe she lost in infancy, Hath she not then, for pains and fears, The day of woe, the anxious night, For all her sorrow, all her tears, An over-payment of delight!

When inanhood comes with troubles rife, And all the toils and cares of life

Usurp the busy mind, Where shall the tired and harass'd heart

Its consolation find ? llope doubts not yet the meed to obtain

Of difficulties past,
And looks beyond the toils of gain

To wealth, enjoy'd at last.
So to his journey's later stage

llis pilgrim feet attain,
And then he finds in wiser age

That earthly cares are vain.
Yet llope the constant friend remains

Who sooth'd his troubles past,
Though oft deceiving and deceived,

The truest friend at last.
By Faith and Hope in life's last hour

Are life's last pangs relieved ;
They give the expectation then

That cannot be deceived.

ODE

ON THE DEATH OF QUEEN CHARLOTTE.

Death has gone up into our palaces!

The light of day once more
Hath visited the last abode

Of mortal royalty,
The dark and silent vault.

НОРЕ. . Man hath a weary pilgrimage

As through the world he wends,

But not as when the silence of that vault

Was interrupted last
Doth England raise her loud lament,

Like one by sudden grief
Surprised and overcome.

All that our fathers in their prayers desired,

When first their chosen Queen
Set on our shores her happy feet,

All by indulgent Heaven
Had largely been vouchsafed.

At Court the household Virtues had their place;

Domestic Purity
Maintained her proper influence there;

The marriage-bed was blest,
And length of days was given.

Come, Lucy, let me dry those tearful eyes;

Take thou, dear child, a lesson not unholy, From one whom Nature taught to moralize

Both in his mirth and in bis melancholy.
I will not warn thee not to set thy heart

Too fondly upon perishable things;
In vain the earnest preacher spends his art

Upon that theme, in vain the poet sings.
It is our nature's strong necessity,

And this the soul's unerring instincts tell: Therefore, I say, let us love worthily,

Dear Child, and then we cannot love too well.

No cause for sorrow then, but thankfulness;

Life's business well performed,
When weary age full willingly

Resigns itself to sleep,
la sure and certain hope !

Belter it is all losses to deplore,

Which dutiful affection can sustain, Than that the heart should, to its inmost core,

Harden without it, and have lived in vain.

Oh end to be desired! whene'er, as now,

Good works have gonc before,
The seasonable fruit of Faith;

And good Report, and good
Example liave survived !

Her left hand knew pot of the ample alms

Whiclı her right hand had done,
And therefore in the awful hour

The promises were fiers
To secret boudiy made.

This love which thou hast lavishd, and the woe

Which makes thy lip now quiver with distress, Are but a vent, an innocent overflow,

From the deep springs of female tenderness. And something I would teach thee from the grief

That thus hath fill'd those gentle eyes with tears, The which may be thy sober, sure relief,

When sorrow visits thee in after years. I ask not whither is the spirit flown

That lit the eye which there in death is seald; Our Father hath not made ihal mystery known;

Needless the knowledge, therefore not reveala.

With more than Royal honours to the tomb

Her bier is borne; with more
Than Pomp can claim or Power bestow;

With blessings and with prayers
From many a grateful leart.

Long, long then shall Queen Charlotte's name be dear;

And future Queens to her
As to their best exemplar look ;

Who imitates her best
May best deserve our love.

But didst thou know, in sure and sacred truth,

It had a place assigu'd in yonder skies ; There, through an codless life of joyous youth,

To warble in the bowers of Paradise,

Lucy, if then the power to thee were given

In that cold clay its life to re-engage, Woulust thou call back the warbler from its heaven,

To be again the tenant of a cage ?

LUCY AND HER BIRD.

Tue Sky-lark hath perceived his prison-door

Unclosed; for liberly the captive tries: Puss eagerly hath watch'd him from the floor,

And in her grasp he tlutters, pants, and dies.

Only that thou mightst cherish it again,

Wouldst thou the object of thy love recall To mortal life, and chance, and change, and pain,

And death, which must be suffer'd once by all!

Oh no, thou sayst,--oh surely not, not so!

I read the answer which those looks express: For pure and true affection well I know

Leaves in the heart no room for selfishness. Such love of all our virtues is the gem;

We bring with us the immortal seed at birth: Of Heaven it is, and heavenly; woe lo them

Who make it wholly earthly and of earth! What we love perfectly, for its own sake

We love and not our own; being ready thus Whate'er self-sacrifice is asked to make,

That which is best for it, is best for us. O, Lucy! treasure up that pious thought;

It hath a balm for sorrow's deadliest darts, And with true comfort thou wilt find it fraught,

If grief should reach thee in thy heart of hearts.

STANZAS

ADDRESSED TO J. M. W. TURNER, ESQ. R. A. ON HIS

VIEW OF THE LAGO MAGGIORE, FROM ARONA.

TURNER, thy pencil brings to mind a day,

When from Laveno and the Beuscer hill, I over Lake Verbanus lield my way

In pleasant fellowship, with wind at will; Smooth were the waters wide, the skies serene, And our hearts gladdend with the joyful scene.

Joyful,--for all things minister'd delight,

The lake and land, the mountains and the vales: The Alps their snowy summits reard in light,

Tempering with gelid breath the summer gales; And verdant shores and woods refreshi'd the eye That else had ached beneath that brilliant sky.

THE DEVIL'S WALK.'
From his brimstone bed, at break of day,

A walking the Devil is gone,
To visit his spug little farm of the Earth,

And see how his stock goes on;
And over the hill and over the dalc

Ile walked, and over the plain, And backwards and forwards he switched his long tail,

As a gentleman switches lois cane. And pray how was the Devil drest?

0! he was in his Sunday's best, His coat was red, and luis breeches were blue,

With a hole behind that his tail went through.
He saw a Lawyer killing a viper,

On a dunghill, beside his own stable;
And the Devil smiled, for it put bin in mind

Of Caio and his brother Abel.
An Apothecary on a white liorse

Rode by on his avocations,
« Oh!» says the Devil, « there's my old friend

Death in the Revelations. »
He saw a cottage with a double coach-louse,

A cottage of gentility;
And the Devil was pleased, for his darling vice

Is the pride that apes humility!
He stepp'd into a rich Bookseller's shop:

Says he, « We are both of one college ;
For I myself sat, Jike a cormorant, once,

Hard by on the Tree of Knowledge.»
As he pass'd through Cold Bath Fields he saw

A solitary cell;
And the Devil was charm'd, for it gave him a hint

For improving the prisons in Hell.
Dc saw a Turnkey in a trice

Felter a troublesome jade;
u Ah! nimble, quothi he, «do the fingers move

When they're used to their trade.»
He saw the same Turnkey unfetter the same,

But with little expedition:
And the Devil thought on the long debates

On the Slave-Trade Abolition.
Down the river did glide, with wind and with tide,

A piy with vast celerity,
And the Devil grina'd, for lie saw all the while

How it cut its own throat, and he thought with a smile,
Of « England's commercial prosperity !»
He saw a certain Minister

(A Minister to his mind) Go up into a certain House

With a majority behind; The Devil quoted Genesis

Like a very learned clerk, llow « Noah and his creeping things

Went up into the Ark.» General Gascoigne's burning face

lle saw with consternation, And back to Hell his way did take

For the Devil thought, by a slight mistake, ·T was the General Conflagration!

í This has generally been attributed to Professor l'orson; but as in the last edition of Coleridge's Works, it is given as his joint production with Mr Southey, we insert it heru.

To that elaborate island were we bound, of

yore the scene of Borromean pride,Folly's prodigious work; where all around,

Under its coronel and self belied,
Look where

you
will

you cannot chuse but see The obtrusive motto's proud « HUMILITY!»

Far off the Borromean Saint was seen,

Distinct though distant, o'er his native town, Where his Colossus with benignant mien

Looks from its station on Arona down: To is the inland sailor lifts his eyes, From the wide lake, when perilous storms arise.

But no storm threaten'd on that summer day;

The whole rich scene appear'd for joyance made; With many a gliding bark the Mere was gay

The fields and groves in all their wealth arrayed: I could have thought the sun beheld with smiles Those towns and palaces and populous isles.

From fair Arona even on such a day,

When gladaess was descending like a shower, Great painter, did thy gifted eye survey

The splendid scene; and, conscious of its power, Well hath thine hand inimitable given The glories of the lake, and land, and licaven.

But I appeal Against the limner and the graver's wrong! Their evil works survive them. Bilderdyk (Whom I am privileged to call my friend), Suffering by graphic libels in like wise, Gave his wrath vent in verse. Would I could give The life and spirit of his vigorous Dutch, As his dear consort hath transfused my strains Into her native speech, and made them known On Rhine, and Yssel, and rich Amstel's banks, And wheresoe'er the voice of Vondel still Is heard; and still Hooft and Antonides Are living agencies; and Father Cats, The Household Poet, teacheth in his songs The love of all things lovely, all things pure; Dest poet, who delights the happy mind Of childhood, stores with moral strength the heart Of youth, with wisdom maketh mid life rich, And fills with quiet tears the eyes of age.

Hear then, in English rhyme, how Bilderdyk Describes his wicked portraits, one by one.

« A madman, who from Bedlam hath broke Joose;

An honest fellow of the numskull race; And, pappier-headed still, a very goose

Staring with eyes aghast and vacant face; A Frenchman, who would mirthfully display

On some poor idiot his malicious wit;
And, lastly, one who, trained up in the way

Of worldly craft, hath not forsaken it,
But hath served Mammon with his whole intent,

(A thing of Nature's worst materials made), Low minded, stupid, base, and insolent.

1-1-a poet, --- have been thus portrayed ! Can

ye believe that my true effigy Among these vile varieties is found ? What thought, or line, or word hath fallen from me

In all my numerous works, whereon to ground The opprobrious otion? safely I may smile

At these, acknowledging no likeness here. But worse is yet to come, so—soft a while!

For now in potter's earth must I appear,
And in such workmanship, that sooth to say,

Humanity disowns the imitation,
And the doll image is not worth its clay.

Then comes there one who will to admiration
Jo plastic wax the perfect face present;

And what of his performance comes at last? Folly itself in every lineament!

Its consequential features overcast With the coxcombical and shallow laugh

Of one who would, for condescension, hide, Yet in his best behaviour can but half

Suppress, the scornfulness of empty pride.»

There to be known deserved.»

A man he is Who hath received upon his constant breast The sharpest arrows of adversity. Whom not the clamours of the multitude, Demanding, in their madness and their miglit, Iniquitous things, could shake in his firm mind; Nor the strong hand of instant tyranny From the straight path of duty turn aside; But who, in public troubles, in the wreck Of bisown fortunes, in proscription, exile, Want, obloquy, ingrate neglect, and what Of yet severer trials Providence Sometimes inflicteth, chastening whom it loves,In all, througlı all, and over all, bath borne An equal heart; as resolute toward The world, as humbly and religiously Beneath his heavenly Father's rod resigned. Right-minded, happy-minded, righteous mau! True lover of his country and his kind; Jo knowledge and in inexhaustive stores Of native genius rich; philosopher, Poet, and sage. The language of a state Jnferior in illustrious deeds to none, But circumscribed by narrow bounds, and now Sinking in irrecoverable decline, Hath pent within its sphere a name, with which Europe should else have rung from side to side. Such, Allan, is the Hollander to whom Esteem and admiration have attached My soul, not less than pre-consent of inind And gratitude for benefits, when being A stranger, sick, and in a foreign land, He took me, like a brother, to his house, And ministered to me, and made the weeks Which had been wearisome and careful else, So pleasurable, that in my kalendar There are no whiter days. "T will be a joy For us to meet in heaven, though we should look Upon each other's earthly face no more. -Such is this world's complexion! « cheerful thoughts Bring sad thoughts to the mind,» and these again Give place to calm content, aud stedfast hope, And happy faith, assured.—Return we now, With such transition as our daily life Jinposes in its wholesome discipline, To a lighter strain; and from the Gallery Of the Dutch poet's misresemblances, Pass into mine;' where I will show thee, Allan, Such an array of villanous visages, That if among them all there were but one Which as a likeness could be proved impon me, Il were enough to make me in mere shame Take up an alias and forswear myself. Whom have we first? a dainty gentleman, His sleepy eyes half closed, and countenance To no expression stronger than miglic suit A simper, capable of being moved; Saucy and sentimental, with an air So lack-thought and so lack-a-daisycal, That one might guess the book whiclı in his hand He holds were Zimmerman on Solitude. Then comes a jovial Landlord, who hath made it Part of his trade to be the shoeing-horn

« And who is Bilderdyk ?» methinks thou sayest : A ready question ; yet which, trust me, Allan, Would not be asked, had not the curse that came From Babel, clipt the wings of Poetry. Napoleon asked him once, with cold fixed look, « Art ibou then in the world of letters known?» And meeting his imperial look with eye As little wont to turn away before The face of man, the Hollander replied, « At least I have done that whereby I have