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And still I find her sitting here,
The spirits of enjoyments past,
The peasant dreads a gathering storm,
A rosy wife, a blooming boy, “Ah me!” he sighs, “when I am thus laid low, Must my poor partner fell a widowed mother's woe?”
He gently stretches out his arm,
Seeks the warm comforts of his cot;
The storm retires ;—and hark! the bird,
Pours all its sweetness through her heart,
The warbled music of the spheres:
Go to thine home, forsaken fair!
Loves the dear pledge he left behind:
THOUGHTS AND IMAGES.
“Come like shadows, so depart."- Macbeth.
THE Diamond, in its native bed,
Hid like a buried star may lie,
Seen only by its Maker's eye:
Where fixed at first in solid night,
Sparkle one moment into light.
The Plant, upspringing from the seed,
Expands into a perfect flower;
Wooed by the sun, the wind, the shower :
Trained by the secret hand, that brings
All beauty out of waste and rude, It blooms its season, dies, and flings
Its germs abroad in solitude.
Almighty skill, in ocean's caves,
Lends the light Nautilus a form To tilt along the Atlantic waves,
Fearless of rock, or shoal, or storm; But, should a breath of danger sound, With sails quick furled it dives profound, And far beneath the tempest's path,
In coral grots, defies the foe,
The Sabbath of the deep below.
Up from his dream, on twinkling wings,
The Sky-lark soars amid the dawn; Yet, while in Paradise he sings,
Looks down upon the quiet lawn, Where flutters, in his little nest, More love than music e’er expressed; Then, though the Nightingale may thrill
The soul with keener ecstacy, The merry bird of morn can fill
All Nature's bosom with its glee.
The Elephant, embowered in woods,
Coeval with their trees might seem,
Life in a renovating stream:
Where ranged and fed of old his sires; Nor knows advancement, lapse, or change,
Beyond their walks, till he expires.
Gem, flower, and fish, the bird, the brute,
Of every kind occult or known, (Each exquisitely formed to suit
Its humble lot, and that alone,) Through ocean, earth, and air fulfil, Unconsciously, their Maker's will,
Who gave, without their toil or thought,
Strength, beauty, instinct, courage, speed; While through the whole His pleasure wrought
Whate'er His wisdom had decreed.
But Man, the masterpiece of GOD,
Man, in his Maker's image framed, -
Lord of this low creation named,–
Weapon, nor wing, nor sleight hath he;
And is a king from infancy.
For, him no destiny hath bound
To do what others did before,
And be a man, and be no more:
His father's joys and sorrows share,
And leave his likeness in his heir !
No: infinite the shades between
The motley millions of our race;
Alike in purpose or in face:
That pants for more than earth can give:
Dies when he but begins to live.
Oh! if there be no world on high
To yield his powers unfettered scope; If man be only born to die,
Whence this inheritance of hope ? Wherefore to him alone were lent Riches that never can be spent?
Enough, not more, to all the rest,
For life and happiness was given; To Man, mysteriously unblest,
Too much for any state but heaven, It is not thus;- it cannot be
That one so gloriously endowed
Should shine and vanish like a cloud :
Which brute sensation never taught,
But grow immortal with the thought.
THE VALENTINE WREATH (1811).
ROSY-RED the hills appear
With the light of morning, Beauteous clouds in ether clear,
All the east adorning; White through mist the meadows shine, Wake, my love, my Valentine ! For thy locks of raven hue,
Flowers with hoar-frost pearly, Crocus-cups of gold and blue,
Snowdrops drooping early,
Pluck the daisy, peeping ;
Hunt the sorrel, creeping;
Scattered o’er the fallows; Hazel-buds, with crimson gems, Green and glossy sallows;