A FAREWELL.

NOT ORIGINALLY WRITTEN IN THE AUTHOR'S OWN NAME.

SWEET vale, tho' I must leave

Thy green hills and thy waters,
Nor sing again at eve,

To charm thy winsome daughters,
Yet I shall fondly think of thee,
And thy fair maids will think of me,

When I am far away.

I'll think of thee, but not as men,
Who vex their souls with thinking,
With feverish thirst, the reeky fen
Of sluggard memory drinking;
Nor shall thy maidens fair and free
With aught of sadness think of me,
When I am far away.

The fairy lake, tho' still it seems,

Is evermore a-flowing;

A moment ends the silvery gleams

That flash as we are rowing.

Yet that smooth lake as smooth shall flow,

And light oars flash, when gay youths row,

When I am far away.

So may the tide of virgin life,
As smooth, as quick, as clear,
If e'er, in momentary strife,

It dimple with a tear,

As soon regain its sweet repose,

And rest in peace, because it flows,

For ever on its way.

HORACE. BOOK I., ODE 38.

"Persicos odi, puer, apparatus."

NAY, nay, my boy-'tis not for me,
This studious pomp of eastern luxury :
Give me no various garlands, fine

With linden twine,

Nor seek, where latest lingering blows

The solitary rose.

Earnest I beg-add not, with toilsome pain,
One far-sought blossom to the myrtle plain,
For sure, the fragrant myrtle bough

Looks seemliest on thy brow;

Nor me mis-seems, while, underneath the vine,

Close interweaved, I quaff the rosy wine.

DEATH.

OH! weep not for the happy dead,
Your tears reproach the Lord;

To him her virgin soul was wed,

And strong in love, to him she fled

From mother's house, and parent's smiling board.

Alas! we cannot choose but weep,

For we are sore bereaven;

And all of her that we can keep

Is but an image on the deep,

The deep calm soul, that shows reflected heaven.

If angel spirits aught may know

Of hearts they left behind,

If e'er they cast a look below,

The sacrifice of pious woe

May yield a tender joy, even to the angel kind.

INANIA MUNERA.

AH! why should pity wet my bier,
And give my corse her tardy tear,
And the same eye that coldly slew me,
With tears untimely warm bedew me?
Alas! for harm is fleet as wind,
And healing ever lags behind.

Perhaps, when life well nigh is spent,
She 'll faintly smile a sad consent,—
And, just before she sees me die,
Will heave a kind repentant sigh:

For sigh of ruth-Oh, wayward fate!—
Will ever come-and come too late.

She cannot undo what is done;

For, if a smile were like the sun,

And sighs more sweet than gales that creep O'er rosy beds where fairies sleep,

And every tear like summer rain

To thirsty fields-'twere all in vain.

VOL. I.

I

For never sun so bright was seen
Could make a leaf that 's sere be green;
Nor spicy gale, nor April shower,
Restore to bloom a faded flower:

Thus sun, and wind, and balmy rain,
And smiles, and sighs, and tears, are vain.

TO MY UNKNOWN SISTER-IN-LAW.

MARY, our eyes are strangers, but our hearts
Are knit in active sympathy of love

For one, whom love of thee hath sanctified.
The lawless wanderings of his youthful thought
For thee he curbed; for thee assumed the yoke
Of humble duty-bade the world farewell,
With all its vanities of prose and rhyme,

The secular pride of startling eloquence,

The victory of wordy warfare-all

That charm'd his soul in academic bowers.

Not small the struggle and the sacrifice, When men of many fancies, daring minds, That for the substance and the form of truth Delight to fathom their own bottomless deeps, Submit to authorised creeds and positive laws, Appointed rites and ceremonial duty.