I miss thee, at the dawning gray, I miss thee when by Gunga's stream but most beneath the lamp's pale beam I spread my books, my pencil try, Yet when of morn and eve the star I feel, though thou art distant far, R. HEBER 321 THE GOOD ALONE ARE GREAT HEN winds the mountain oak assail, WHEN content may slumber in the vale, Thro' scenes of tumult while we roam, it hopes in time to roam no more; combats the storm, and rides the wave, Ye proud, ye selfish, ye severe, how vain your mask of state! great, whẹn, amid the vale of peace, J. BEATTIE 322 323 TO AN EARLY PRIMROSE M whose modest form, so delicately fine, ILD offspring of a dark and sullen sire, was nursed in whirling storms, and cradled in the winds; thee when young spring first questioned winter's sway, and dared the sturdy blusterer to the fight, thee on this bank he threw to mark the victory. In this low vale, the promise of the year, thy tender elegance. So virtue blooms, brought forth amid the storms of chill adversity; in some lone walk of life she rears her head, obscure and unobserved; while every bleaching breeze that on her blows, and hardens her to bear serene the ills of life. H. K. WHITE WITH THE SONG OF DIANA horns and with hounds, I waken the day; and hie to the woodland-walks away: I tuck up my robe, and am buskined soon, I course the fleet stag, unkennel the fox, and chase the wild goats o'er summits of rocks, with shouting and hooting we pierce through the sky, and Echo turns hunter, and doubles the cry. SONG OF MARS Inspire the vocal brass, inspire; arms and honour, set the martial soul on fire, and kindle manly rage. 324 Mars has look'd the sky to red; in woodland-walks no more is seen; the sprightly green has drunk the Tyrian dye. TO APOLLO POLLO!-king Apollo! AP J. DRYDEN in what enchanted region dost thou stay?is it in the azure air or in the caverns hollow, which Thetis at the set of day as thy own bright kingdoms are? O peerless Archer! O triumphant God! now pointeth to the promised hour,—twilight; 326 Ye were aye leal and true, Jean, to the land o' the leal. Our bonnie bairn's there, Jean, then dry that tearfu' e'e, Jean, to the land o' the leal. in the land o' the leal. THE NIGHTINGALE LADY NAIRN HARK, how through many a melting note she now prolongs her lays; how sweetly down the void they float! Whoe'er thou art whom chance may bring if then the plaintive Siren sing, O softly tread beneath her bower, of man's uncertain lot. O think, o'er all this mortal stage O sacred bird, let me at eve, M. AKENSIDE 327 328 I LOUISA MET Louisa in the shade, and having seen that lovely maid that nymph-like she is fleet and strong, like rivulets in May? And smiles has she to earth unknown; that come and go with endless play, are hidden in her eyes. She loves her fire, her cottage-home: Take all that's mine beneath the moon, of some old cave or mossy nook, THE W. WORDSWORTH VIRTUE MAN'S SUREST STAY HE sturdy rock, for all his strength, is caught at length in fowler's net: |