"Myself will to my darling be
Both law and impulse; and with me2
The girl, in rock and plain,

In earth and heaven, in glade and bower,
Shall feel an overseeing power
To kindle or restrain.

"She shall be sportive3 as the fawn,
That wild with glee across the lawn
Or up the mountain springs;
And hers shall be the breathing balm,
And hers the silence and the calm1
Of mute insensate things.

"The floating clouds their state shall lend
To her; for her the willow bend;

Nor shall she fail to see

Even in the motions of the storm,

Grace that shall mould the maiden's form
By silent sympathy.

"The stars of midnight shall be dear

To her;

and she shall lean her ear

In many a secret place

Where rivulets dance their wayward round,
And beauty, born of murmuring sound,

Shall pass into her face.

"And vital feelings of delight

Shall rear her form to stately height,"

Her virgin bosom swell;

Such thoughts to Lucy I will give,
While she and I together live
Here in this happy dell."

(1) Law and impulse-These words and the synonymous phrase, "a power to kindle or restrain," are admirably chosen to denote the apparently opposite, yet really harmonious results produced in the mind by external nature.

(2) With me, &c.-i. e. while she is in company with me among the "rocks," &c., she shall be conscious of my superintending power to animate and tranquillise the mind.

(3) She shall be sportive, &c.-This stanza beautifully exemplifies the last. (4) Silence, calm-See note 1, p. 90.

(5) Where rivulets, &c.-A very picturesque line, and most delicately versified. Try the effect of substituting some word of two syllables for "rivulets."

(6) Stately height, &c.-Joy, it is well known, expands and elevates the form, while sorrow depresses it.

Thus Nature spake. The work was done--
How soon my Lucy's race was run!

She died, and left to me

This heath, this calm, and quiet scene;

The memory of what has been,

And never more will be.

Wordsworth.

PRIDE AND HUMILITY.'

THE self-applauding bird, the peacock, see-
Mark what a sumptuous Pharisee is he!
Meridian sunbeams tempt him to unfold
His radiant glories, azure, green, and gold:
He treads as if, some solemn music near,
His measured step were governed by his ear;
And seems to say-Ye meaner fowl give place,
I am all splendour, dignity, and grace!

Not so the pheasant on his charms presumes,
Though he too has a glory in his plumes.
He, Christian-like, retreats with modest mien
To the close copse, or far-sequestered green,
And shines without desiring to be seen.

Cowper.

THE COTTAGER.

YON Cottager, who weaves at her own door-
Pillow and bobbins all her little store-
Content, though mean, and cheerful if not gay,"
Shuffling her threads about the live-long day,
Just earns a scanty pittance, and at night
Lies down secure, her heart and pocket light:
She, for her humble sphere by nature fit,
Has little understanding and no wit,

(1) The comparison of the proud and humble believer to the peacock and the pheasant, and the parallel between Voltaire and the poor cottager, are exquisite pieces of eloquence and poetry."-Hazlitt.

(2) Weaves-i. e. weaves lace with bobbins upon a pillow.

(3) Cheerful, gay-He is cheerful who is habitually lively; gay who is occasionally or accidentally so. Cheerfulness is an evergreen; gaiety a passing flower, more brilliant for a time, but not permanent.

Receives no praise; but though her lot be such,
(Toilsome and indigent,) she renders much;1
Just knows, and knows no more, her Bible true-
A truth the brilliant Frenchman2 never knew;
And in that charter reads, with sparkling eyes,
Her title to a treasure in the skies.
O happy peasant! O unhappy bard!
His the mere tinsel, hers the rich reward;
He, praised perhaps for ages yet to come,
She, never heard of half a mile from home;
He, lost in errors his vain heart prefers,
She, safe in the simplicity of hers.

Ar the close of the day, when the hamlet is still,
And mortals the sweets of forgetfulness prove;
When nought but the torrent is heard on the hill,
And nought but the nightingale's song in the grove;
'Twas thus, by the cave of the mountain afar,

While his harp rang symphonious, a hermit began ;
No more with himself or with nature at war,

He thought as a sage, though he felt as a man:-
"Ah! why, all abandoned to darkness and woe;
Why, lone Philomela, that languishing fall?
For spring shall return, and a lover bestow,
And sorrow no longer thy bosom enthral.
But, if pity inspire thee, renew the sad lay,

Mourn, sweetest complainer, man calls thee to mourn;
Oh soothe him, whose pleasures, like thine, pass away:
Full quickly they pass-but they never return.

Now, gliding remote on the verge of the sky,

The moon, half-extinguished, her crescent displays;
But lately I marked, when majestic on high

She shone, and the planets were lost in her blaze.

(1) Much-much praise to God.

(2) Frenchman-Voltaire, who was a scoffer at religion.

(3) Symphonious-from the Greek σúv, together, and pwvý, a sound—making one sound, accordant; the harp sounded at the same time with the voice. (4) Philomela-See note 3, p. 71.

Roll on, thou fair orb, and with gladness pursue
The path that conducts thee to splendour again;
But man's faded glory what change shall renew?
Ah, fool! to exult in a glory so vain!

66

"Tis night, and the landscape is lovely no more:

I mourn; but, ye woodlands, I mourn not for you;
For morn is approaching, your charms to restore,
Perfumed with fresh fragrance, and glittering with dew:
Nor yet for the ravage of winter I mourn;

Kind nature the embryo blossom shall save:
But when shall spring visit the mouldering urn?
Oh when shall it dawn on the night of the grave ?-

""Twas thus, by the light of false science betrayed,
That leads to bewilder, and dazzles to blind,
My thoughts wont' to roam from shade onward to shade,
Destruction before me, and sorrow behind;

Oh pity, great Father of light, then I cried,

Thy creature, that fain would not wander from thee;
Lo, humbled in dust, I relinquish my pride:

From doubt and from darkness thou only canst free.

"And darkness and doubt are now flying away;
No longer I roam in conjecture forlorn;
So breaks on the traveller, faint and astray,
The bright and the balmy effulgence of morn.
See Truth, Love, and Mercy, in triumph descending,
And nature all glowing in Eden's first bloom!

On the cold cheek of death smiles and roses are blending,
And beauty immortal awakes from the tomb."

Beattie.

THE DESTRUCTION OF SENNACHERIB'S ARMY.

THE Assyrian came down like a wolf on the fold,
And his cohorts were gleaming in purple and gold;
And the sheen of their spears was like stars on the sea,
When the blue wave rolls nightly on deep Galilee.

(1) Wont-i. e. were once wont.

(2) Cohorts-A cohort is strictly a troop of Roman soldiers only; it is here employed in a general sense, like the Greek word phalanx.

I

Like the leaves of the forest when summer is green,'
That host with their banners at sunset were seen;
Like the leaves of the forest when autumn hath blown,
That host on the morrow lay withered and strown.

For the angel of death spread his wings on the blast,
And breathed in the face of the foe as he past;
And the eyes of the sleepers waxed deadly and chill,
And their hearts but once heaved-and for ever grew still.

And there lay the steed with his nostril all wide,
But through it there rolled not the breath of his pride,
And the foam of his gasping lay white on the turf,
And cold as the spray of the rock-beating surf.

And there lay the rider, distorted and pale,
With the dew on his brow, and the rust on his mail;
And the tents were all silent-the banners alone-
The lances unlifted-the trumpets unblown.

And the widows of Asshur are loud in their wail,
And the idols are broke in the temple of Baal;
And the might of the Gentile,2 unsmote by the sword,
Hath melted like snow in the glance of the Lord!

Byron.

THE POET'S PLEA,

WHEN LONDON WAS THREATENED WITH ASSAULT.3

CAPTAIN, or Colonel, or Knight in arms,

4

Whose chance on these defenceless doors may seize,
If deed of honour did thee ever please,

Guard them, and him within protect from harms.
He can requite thee, for he knows the charms 5

(1) The comparison of the living and dead host respectively to the spring and autumn leaves, is very apt and impressive.

(2) And the might, &c.-This couplet forms a splendid close to the poem.

(3) This exquisite sonnet was written in 1642, when the King's army, by its near approach, alarmed the citizens of London.

(4) Milton was then living in Aldersgate Street, London.

(5) Charms that call, &c.-The poet's power is like that attributed to the charms and spells of the magician-he can make thee famous-spread thy name, &c.