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His grief in soothing slumbers

No balmy power could steep; So sweetly flowed his numbers,

The music seemed to weep. Unfeeling sons of folly!

To you the mourner sung, While tender melancholy

Inspired his plaintive tongue :

“Now reigns the moon in splendour,

Amid the heaven serene;
thousand stars attend her,

And glitter round their queen:
Sweet hours of inspiration !

When I, the still night long, Was wont to pour my passion,

And breathe my soul in song.

“But now, delicious season!

In vain thy charms invite:
Entombed in this dire prison,

I sicken at the sight.
This morn, this vernal morning,

The happiest bird was I,
That hailed the sun returning,

Or swam the liquid sky.

“In yonder breezy bowers,

Among the foliage green,
I spent my tuneful hours,

În solitude serene:
There soft Melodia's beauty

First fired my ravished eye:
I vowed eternal duty;

She looked-half kind, half shy!

"My plumes, with ardour trembling,

I fluttered, sighed, and sung ; The fair one, still dissembling,

Refused to trust my tongue :
A thousand tricks inventing,

A thousand arts I tried;
Till the sweet nymph, relenting,
Confessed herself my bride.

“Deep in the grove retiring

To choose our secret seat, We found an oak aspiring,

Beneath whose mossy feet, Where the tall herbage swelling

Had formed a green alcove, We ailt our humble dwelling,

And hallowed it with love.

“Sweet scene of vanished pleasure !

This day, this fatal day, My little ones, my treasure,

My spouse, were stolen away!
I saw the precious plunder

All in a napkin bound;
Then smit with human thunder,

I fluttered on the ground !

“O man ! beneath whose vengeance

All Nature bleeding lies ! Who charged thine impious engines

With lightning from the skies? Ah! is thy bosom iron ?

Does it thine heart enchain ? As these cold bars environ,

And, captive, me detain

“Where are my offspring tender ?

Where is my widowed mate?Thou guardian Moon ! defend her!

Ye Stars ! avert their fate !
O'erwhelmed with killing anguish,

In iron cage, forlorn,
I see my poor babes languish,

I hear their mother mourn !

“O Liberty! inspire me,

And eagle strength supply! Thou, love almighty! fire me !

I'll burst my prison-or die !" He sung, and forward bounded;

He broke the yielding door ! But with the shock confounded, Fell, lifeless, on the floor !

Farewell, then, Philomela !

Poor martyred bird ! adieu !
There's one, my charming fellow!

Who thinks, who feels, like you:
The Bard, that pens thy story,

Amidst a prison's gloom,
Sighs, not for wealth nor glory,

But Freedom, or thy tomb !

ODE TO THE EVENING STAR.

HAIL! resplendent Evening Star !
Brightly beaming from afar;
Fairest gem of purest light
In the diadem of Night.

Now thy mild and modest ray
Lights to rest the weary day;
While the lustre of thine eye
Sweetly trembles through the sky,
As the closing shadows roll
Deep and deeper round the pole,
Lo! thy kindling legions bright
Steal insensibly to light;
Till magnificent and clear
Shines the spangled hemisphere.

In these calmly pleasing hours,
When the soul expands her powers,
And, on wings of contemplation,
Ranges round the vast creation;
When the mind's immortal eye
Bounds, with rapture, to the sky,
And, in one triumphant glance,
Comprehends the wide expanse,
Where stars, and suns, and systems shine,
Faint beams of Majesty Divine !--
Now, when visionary sleep
Lulls the world in slumbers deep;
When silence, awfully profound,
Breathes solemn inspiration round;
Queen of beauty! queen of stars !
Smile upon these frowning bars;

Softly sliding from thy sphere,
Condescend to visit here.

In the circle of this cell
No tormenting demons dwell;
Round these walls, in wild despair,
No agonizing spectres glare ;
Here reside no furies gaunt,
No tumultuous passions haunt;
Fell revenge, nor treachery base;
Guilt, with bold unblushing face;
Pale remorse, within whose breast
Scorpion horrors murder rest;
Coward malice, hatred dire,
Lawless rapine, dark desire;
Pining envy, frantic ire;
Never, never dare intrude
On this pensive solitude.-
But a sorely hunted deer
Finds a sad asylum here:
One whose panting sides have been
Pierced with many an arrow keen;
One whose deeply-wounded heart
Bears the scars of many a dart.
In the herd he vainly mingled;
From the herd when harshly singled,
Too proud to fly, he scorned to yield;
Too weak to fight, he lost the field;
Assailed, and captive led away,
He fell a poor, inglorious prey.

Deign then, gentle Star! to shed Thy soft lustre round mine head : With cheering radiance gild the room, And melt the melancholy gloom. When I see thee, from thy sphere, Trembling like a brilliant tear, Shed a sympathizing ray On the pale expiring day, Then a welcome emanation Of reviving consolation, Swifter than the lightning's dart, Glances through my glowing heart; Soothes my sorrows, lulls my woes In a soft, serene repose, Like the undulating motion Of the deep, majestic ocean,

When the whispering billows glide
Smooth along the tranquil tide;
Calmly thus, prepared, resigned,
Swells the independent mind.

But when, through clouds, thy beauteous light
Streams, in splendour, on the night;
Hope, like thee, my leading star,
Through the sullen gloom of care,
Sheds an animating ray
On the dark, bewildering way.
Starting then with sweet surprise,
Tears of transport swell mine eyes;
Wildly through each throbbing vein
Rapture thrills with pleasing pain;
All my fretful fears are banished,
All my dreams of anguish vanished;
Energy my soul inspires,
And wakes the Muse's hallowed fires;
Rich in melody, my tongue
Warbles forth spontaneous song.

Thus my prison moments gay,
Swiftly, sweetly glide away;
Till the last long day declining,
O'er yon tower thy glory shining,
Shall the welcome signal be
Of to-morrow's liberty!
Liberty, triumphant borne
On the rosy wings of morn,
Liberty shall then return !

Rise to set the captive free;
Rise, O sun of Liberty!

SOLILOQUY OF A WATER-WAGTAIL,

ON THE WALLS OF YORK CASTLE.

On the walls that guard my prison,

Swelling with fantastic pride,
Brisk and merry as the season,

I a feathered coxcomb spied :
When the little hopping elf
Gaily thus amused himself.

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