Shewing, how very good you are-
What then? sometimes it must be fair!
And if sometimes, why not to-day?
Do go, dear Rain! do go away!

IV

Dear Rain! if I've been cold and shy,
Take no offence! I'll tell you, why.
A dear old Friend e'en now is here,
And with him came my sister dear;
After long absence now first met,
Long months by pain and grief beset—
We three dear friends! in truth, we groan
Impatiently to be alone.

We three, you mark! and not one more!
The strong wish makes my spirit sore.
We have so much to talk about,

So many sad things to let out;
So many tears in our eye-corners,
Sitting like little Jacky Horners—
In short, as soon as it is day,
Do go, dear Rain! do go away.

V.

And this I'll swear to you, dear Rain!
Whenever you shall come again,
Be you as dull as e'er you could
(And by the bye 'tis understood,
You're not so pleasant, as you're good),
Yet, knowing well your worth and place,
I'll welcome you with cheerful face;
And though you stayed a week or more,
Were ten times duller than before;

Yet with kind heart, and right good will,
I'll sit and listen to you still;

Nor should you go away, dear Rain!
Uninvited to remain.

But only now, for this one day,

Do go, dear Rain! do go away.

THE VISIT OF THE GODS.

IMITATED FROM SCHILLER.

EVER, believe me,

Appear the Immortals,

Never alone:

Scarce had I welcomed the sor

row-beguiler,

Tacchus! but in came boy Cupid, the smiler;
Lo! Phoebus, the glorious, descends from his throne!
They advance, they float in, the Olympians all!
With Divinities fills my
Terrestrial hall!

How shall I yield you

Due entertainment,

Celestial quire?

Me rather, bright guests! with your wings of upbuoyance

Bear aloft to your homes, to your banquets of joyance,
That the roofs of Olympus may echo my lyre!
Hah! we mount! on their pinions they waft up my

soul!

O give me the nectar!

O fill me the bowl!

Give him the nectar!

Pour out for the poet!
Hebe! pour free!

Quicken his eyes with celestial dew,

That Styx the detested no more he may view,
And like one of us gods may conceit him to be!
Thanks, Hebe! I quaff it! Io Pæan, I cry!
The wine of the Immortals
Forbids me to die!

ELEGY,

IMITATED FROM ONE OF AKENSIDE'S BLANK-VERSE

INSCRIPTIONS.

EAR the lone pile with ivy overspread, Fast by the rivulet's sleep-persuading sound,

Where "sleeps the moonlight" on yon verdant bed

O humbly press that consecrated ground!

For there does Edmund rest, the learned swain!
And there his spirit most delights to rove:
Young Edmund! famed for each harmonious strain,
And the sore wounds of ill-requited love.

Like some tall tree that spreads its branches wide,
And loads the west-wind with its soft perfume,
His manhood blossomed; till the faithless pride
Of fair Matilda sank him to the tomb.

But soon did righteous heaven her guilt pursue! Where'er with wildered steps she wandered pale, Still Edmund's image rose to blast her view,

Still Edmund's voice accused her in each gale.

With keen regret, and conscious guilt's alarms,
Amid the pomp of affluence she pined;
Nor all that lured her faith from Edmund's arms
Could lull the wakeful horror of her mind.

Go, Traveller! tell the tale with sorrow fraught:
Some tearful maid perchance, or blooming youth,
May hold it in remembrance; and be taught
That riches cannot pay for Love or Truth.

THE DESTINY OF NATIONS.

A VISION.

USPICIOUS Reverence! Hush all meaner

song,

Ere we the deep preluding strain have
poured

To the Great Father, only rightful King,
Eternal Father! King Omnipotent!

Beneath Whose shadowy banners, wide unfurled,
Justice leads forth her tyrant-quelling hosts.

Such symphony requires best instrument. Seize, then, my soul! from Freedom's trophied dome The harp which hangeth high between the shields Of Brutus and Leonidas: With that

Strong music, that soliciting spell, force back Earth's free and stirring spirit that lies entranced.

For what is freedom, but the unfettered use Of all the powers which God for use had given? But chiefly this, Him first, Him last to view Through meaner powers and secondary things Effulgent, as through clouds that veil His blaze. For all that meets the bodily sense I deem