I miss thee, at the dawning gray,
when, on the deck reclined,
in careless ease my limbs I lay,
and woo the cooler wind.

I miss thee when by Gunga's stream
my twilight steps I guide;

but most beneath the lamp's pale beam
I miss thee from my side.

I spread my books, my pencil try,
the lingering noon to cheer,
but miss thy kind approving eye,
thy meek attentive ear.

Yet when of morn and eve the star
beholds me on my knee,

I feel, though thou art distant far,
thy prayers ascend for me.

R. HEBER

321

THE GOOD ALONE ARE GREAT

HEN winds the mountain oak assail,

WHEN
and lay its glories waste,

content may slumber in the vale,
unconscious of the blast.

Thro' scenes of tumult while we roam,
the heart, alas! is ne'er at home,

it hopes in time to roam no more;
the mariner, not vainly brave,

combats the storm, and rides the wave,
to rest at last on shore.

Ye proud, ye selfish, ye severe,

how vain your mask of state!
the good alone have joy sincere,
that good alone are great:

great, whẹn, amid the vale of peace,
they bid the plaint of sorrow cease,
and hear the voice of artless praise;
as when along the trophy'd plain
sublime they lead the victor train,
while shouting nations gaze.

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,
serene, thou openest to the nipping gale,
unnoticed and alone,

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,
chastens her spotless purity of breast,

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,
and tie to my forehead a wexing moon.

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;
the world is past its infant age:
arms and honour,

arms and honour,

set the martial soul on fire,

and kindle manly rage.

324

Mars has look'd the sky to red;
and Peace, the lazy good, is fled.
Plenty, peace, and pleasure fly:
the sprightly green

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
in the sea waters far away
buildeth up, as blue and fair

as thy own bright kingdoms are?
O King of life and light!

O peerless Archer! O triumphant God!
behold!--the golden rod

now pointeth to the promised hour,—twilight;
and she who loves thee so
is pale and full of woe.-
No wave nor throne have I,
no bower nor golden grove,
no palace built on high,
to tempt thee not to rove,
but truth, and such a love
as would not shame the sky,-
if these be nothing, Time
shall teach me how to die.

326

Ye were aye leal and true, Jean,
your task's ended noo, Jean,
and I'll welcome you

to the land o' the leal.

Our bonnie bairn's there, Jean,
she was baith guid and fair, Jean;
O we grudged her right sair
to the land o' the leal!

then dry that tearfu' e'e, Jean,
my soul langs to be free, Jean,
and angels wait on me

to the land o' the leal.
now fare ye weel, my ain Jean,
this warld's care is vain, Jean;
we'll meet and aye be fain

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!
the breeze their magic path attends:
the stars shine out; the forest bends:
the wakeful heifers gaze.

Whoe'er thou art whom chance may bring
to this sequestered spot,

if then the plaintive Siren sing,

O softly tread beneath her bower,
and think of heaven's disposing power,

of man's uncertain lot.

O think, o'er all this mortal stage
what mournful scenes arise;
what ruin waits on kingly rage;
how often virtue dwells with woe;
how many griefs from knowledge flow;
how swiftly pleasure flies.

O sacred bird, let me at eve,
thus wandering all alone,
thy tender counsel oft receive,
bear witness to thy pensive airs,
and pity Nature's common cares
till I forget my own.

M. AKENSIDE

327

328

I

LOUISA

MET Louisa in the shade,

and having seen that lovely maid
why should I fear to say

that nymph-like she is fleet and strong,
and down the rocks can leap along

like rivulets in May?

And smiles has she to earth unknown;
smiles, that with motion of their own
do spread and sink and rise;

that come and go with endless play,
and ever as they pass away

are hidden in her eyes.

She loves her fire, her cottage-home:
yet o'er the moorland will she roam
in weather rough and bleak;
and, when against the wind she strains,
O might I kiss the mountain rains
that sparkle on her cheek!

Take all that's mine beneath the moon,
if I with her but half a noon
may sit beneath the walls

of some old cave or mossy nook,
when up she winds along the brook
to hunt the waterfalls.

THE

W. WORDSWORTH

VIRTUE MAN'S SUREST STAY

HE sturdy rock, for all his strength,
by raging seas is rent in twain:
the marble stone is pierced at length
with little drops of drizzling rain:
the ox doth yield unto the yoke;
the steel obeyeth the hammer stroke.
The stately stag, that seems so stout,
by yelping hounds at bay is set:
the swiftest bird, that flies about,

is caught at length in fowler's net:
the greatest fish in deepest brook
is soon deceived by subtle hook.