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. IT was eve when I stray'd on the banks of the Lea,

And the shun of the twilight yet gleam'd in the west, And the breeze lightly ruffled the stream and the tree,

And the groves softly hushed all their songsters to rest. All bush'd save the sound of the nightingale's song,

That song which the cchocs repeated again, Whilst wildly it warbled the willows among,

Its saddest, its sweetest and mournfullest strajo. 1 stray'd while the water yet glar'd with the gleam,

And meander'd along in its beauty of light, And the lillies and flow'rets that grew by the stream,

Were closing their leaves to the gloom of the night.
Yet still sung the nightingale on the green willow,

That grew by the banks of the waters of Lea;
And wild was that song, and untam'd as the billow,

And it thrill'd to the soul like the voice of the Sea. And the sound that was breath'd from the lay of the bird,

Was like the rernembrance of joys that are past! 'Twas sweet, it was sad ; and the thoughts that recurr'd,

Sped swift on my days on the wings of the blast. My manhood appear'd to me sad like the grave;

For its days were o'ershadow'd as dark as the tomb; And my youth, that had wander'd on Ocean's wide wave,

Was clos'd in the evening of twilight and gloom.


But oh! the sweet sunshine that beam'd in my dawn,

Had glitter'd all bright on the waters of Lea; But the mirth of its gleaming for ever was gone,

And the tints of its fading were darkness to me.
Yet sweet to my thought was its halcyon of bliss,

All fragrant as roses bespangled with wet,
And it lingeringly dwelt like the balm of the kiss,

That seals the soft whispers when lovers have met.
Thus pensive and listening I wander'd along,

Where mem'ry had told me of joys that are fled: Till ceased was the sound of the nightingale's song,

That had thrillid to the heart like the wail o'er the dead. I stray'd till the Eve left the west with its gleam,

And the moon-beam enliven'd the gloom with its light; Aud the silent mist rose on the slow winding stream,

And rollid o'er its banks a soft mantle of wbite. But oh, so endearing were what I had heard,

That when I had left the sweet banks of the Lea, The tale that was breathed in the song of the bird,

Still told all its sweetness and sadness to me. For the thought that had clos’d with that soul-piercing lay,

That seem'd not as yet to have died on the air, Was the racking of madness that fades pot away,

The farewell of Love, the deep voice of despair.

The scene lies on that part of the banks of the Lea bordering on the counties of Hertford and Essex, called Cheshunt Nunnery. On the Hertfordshire side the scenery is broken by fine groups of variously tinted trees, whilst on that of the county of Essex, are seen the hills boldly rising diversified with wooded uplands, pastures and corn-fields.

R. H.

WALLER, THE POET, LIVED for some time at Hall- Barn, three-quarters of a mile south of Beaconsfield Toward the decline of life, he bought a small house with a little land, on his natal spot, Coleshill; observing, “that he should be glad to die Jike the stag, where he was roused.” This, however, did pot happen. When he was at Beaconsfield, he found his legs grow tumid: he went to Windsor, where sir Charles Scarborough then attended the king, and requested him, as both a friend and physician, to tell him what that swell. ing meant. “Sir,' answered Scarborougb, your blood wilt run no longer.' Waller repeated some lines of Virgil, and went home to die. As the disease increased upon him, bre composed himself for his departure; and calling upon Dr. Birch to give him the boly sacrament, he desired bis children to take it with him, and made an earnest declaration of bis faith in Christianity. It now appeared what part of his conversation with the great could be remembered with delight. He related, that being present when the Duke of Buckingham talked profanely before King Charles, he said to him, " My Lord, I am a great deal older than your Grace, and have, I believe, heard more arguments for atheism than ever your Grace did ; but I have lived long enough to see there is nothing in them, and so I hope your Grace will."

Waller died at Beaconsfield, in 1687, at the age of 82.

A handsome monument was erected to his memory, by his son's executor's, in 1700, on the east side of the churchyard, near the family vault, where an old walnut-tree is remaining, at the west end of the monument, enclosed within the iron rails around the tomb. Part of the branches hanging over the spiral pillar that rises from the monument has a pleasing effect, and happily illustrates the rebus alluded to jo the family arms, which is a walnut leaf. The Latin inscription on the monument is by Rymer, and is to be seen iù every edition of our poet's works.


THE GENEROUS CARIB. IN in the bosom of a thick grove of mangoes, on one of those happy islands, whose ever-verdant shores are laved by the billows of the western ocean, where nations, falsely called civilized, had never carried the desolating sword of conquest, the generous Orra had fixed his habitation. From the hour his eyes first beheld the light of heaven, he had been accustomed only to the same delightful sput.

* From infancy he had been taught to traverse the sands and supply the wants of nature chiefly from the productions of the great deep. Unaccustomed to the toils of cultivation, or the cares of traffic, be spent the morning of bis days in a regular succession of healthful exercise or innocent amusements. As he sat upon the rocky cliff, he warbled in uncouth numbers, while his eyes wandered over the expansive ocean, and marked the progress of the distant sails emerging, disappearing, or taking different directions. He looked on those as the ordinary productions of nature, though ignorant of their properties or their utility; vor deemed them other than what they seemed, -vast objects foating on the billows, witbout cause and without effect. He observed the mighty orb of day rise and set in all its magnificence, un. conscious of its warming other elimes, or fructifying a different soil. Nor did he dream of other lands, or an. other race of beings; but imagined that all creation was comprised within the narrow cirele uf his own visible horizun.

To the prime of life, when the hearts of men are too often contaminated with juvenile vices, love was the only passion which could disturb the serenity of his breast. The amiable Yarro was the sole object of his desire. He first met ber in a walk of bamboos on the bank of the river, when her sable beauties kindled in his busom an uvextinguishable flame. A stranger to artifice or dissi. mulation, he wooed her with the irresistible eloquence of nature, and she yielded her heart without reluctance or distrust. Their hovel was sheltered by the branches of be palm. Between two trees was suspended their ham. mock of hemp, and their kitchen furniture consisted of a few calabashes curiously carved by a Aint.

Years of domestic felicity rolled away without a single misfortune seriously to trouble their repose. While Orra with his net on his shoulder, sought the shore, to secure the next meals supply, Yarro dug a hole in the sand, kindled the flames to roast the fish caught the preceding evening, and served them up on the leaves of the hanana, against his return. While they wandered on the borders of the lug wood forest, or amidst labyrinths of citrons or sugar canes, every eye beheld them with pleasure, and every eye pronouncod them happy. But what mortal ever drew the lot of perfect felicity? One morning Orra beheld with astonishment, a large ship approach nearer

tbe shore than he had ever observed one before. A boat filled with white men soou reached the island. He viewed them with attention-he compared them with bimself, and on making allowances for dress and colour, was convinced they were beings of a like species witb himself. He felt himself interested in their wants, which by signs they made known to him. For the three preceding days they had suffered all the horrors of thirst. He commiserated their sufferings; led them to the purest spring, and assisted them in filling their casks, and rolling them down to their boat. He then conducted them to his hut, and unsuspectingly introduced them to his Yarro, who laid before them every delicacy in her power to procure. At the shut of evening they returned to their ships, and for several mornings Orra ran down to the beach to congratulate them on their arrival, and shew them fresh instances of disinterested kindness.

One morning he waited for them in vain! The sun had gained the meridian, and no boat appeared! Pensively, and slowly be returned to his hut. But, alas! it wanted its brightest ornament! every utensil was placed in the nicest order ;-but Yarro was not there!

He threw himself on the earth in agony, calling on the Zombies to restore him his love; then frantic with grief, started up, enquiring of all he met, if they had seen his Yarro? " I saw her,” said one of the natives, “ struggling with the new beings you so kindly entertained, at the mouth of the creek, who took her on their long raft and paddled out to sea before any one could come to ber relief."

A sudden palsy shook his nerves; his features were discomposed, his eyes rolled fiery red, he drew his breath with pain; he cursed his own credulity, and the perfidy of his ungenerous guests-morecruel than the Zombies! who, be doubted not, were the authors of his misfe

e authors of his misfortune, and whom, in the bitterness of his spirit, he called savages and barbarians! But when the storm of rage and grief bad subsided, he remained the gloomy victim of cool and settled despair!

Seven days elapsed, and on the morning of the eighth, as his eyes, dimmed with grief, wandered over the vast expanse of waters, he beheld a boat driven by the surf among the rocks and breakers. His bosom at first was swelling with indignation, at the sight of beings of the same description as his late ungrateful guests, and for a

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