They are bursting fresh from their sparry caves,
And the earth resounds with the joy of waves.

Come forth, O ye children of gladness, come!
Where the violets lie may now be your home.
Ye of the rose-cheek and dew-bright eye,
And the bounding footstep, to meet me fly;
With the lyre, and the wreath, and the joyous lay,
Come forth to the sunshine, I may not stay!

-Away from the dwellings of care-worn men,
The waters are sparkling in wood and glen:
Away from the chamber and dusky hearth,
The young leaves are dancing in breezy mirth;
Their light stems thrill to the wild wood strains,
And youth is abroad in my green domains.

But ye! ye are changed since I met you last!
There is something bright from your features past!
There is that come over your brow and eye

Which speaks of a world where the flowers must die!
Ye smile, but your smile hath a dimness yet;

-O what have ye look'd on since last we met?

Ye are changed, ye are changed! and I see not here
All whom I saw in the vanish'd year!

There were graceful heads, with their ringlets bright,
Which toss'd in the breeze with a play of light;
There were eyes, in whose glistening laughter lay
No faint remembrance of dull decay!

There were steps that flew o'er the cowslip's head,
As if for a banquet all earth were spread;

There were voices that rung through the sapphire sky, And had not a sound of mortality!

Are they gone? is their mirth from the mountains pass'd?

Ye have look'd on death since you met me last!

I know whence the shadow comes o'er you now;
Ye have strewn the dust on the sunny brow:
Ye have given the lovely to earth's embrace;
She hath taken the fairest of beauty's race;
With their laughing eyes and their festal crown,
They are gone from among you in silence down!

They are gone
from among you, the young and fair!
Ye have lost the gleam of their shining hair!
But I know of a land where there comes no blight;
I shall meet them there, with their eyes of light:
Where death midst the beams of the morn may dwell.
I tarry no longer! Farewell! Farewell!

The summer is coming, on soft winds borne;
Ye may press the grape, ye may bind the corn!
For me, I depart to a brighter shore;

Ye are mark'd by death, ye are mine no more:
go where the loved that have left you dwell,

I

And the flowers are not death's:-Fare ye well Farewell!

MRS. HEMANS.

133. EVE'S CONJUGAL LOVE.

[From PARADISE LOST.]

MY author and disposer, what thou bidd'st,
Unargued I obey: so God ordains.

God is thy law, thou mine: to know no more
Is woman's happiest knowledge, and her praise.
With thee conversing, I forget all time;
All seasons, and their change, all please alike.
Sweet is the breath of Morn, her rising sweet,
With charm of earliest birds; pleasant the Sun,
When first on this delightful land he spreads
His orient beams, on herb, tree, fruit, and flower,
Glistering with dew: fragrant the fertile Earth
After soft showers; and sweet the coming on
Of grateful evening mild; then silent Night,
With this her solemn bird, and this fair Moon,
And these the gems of Heaven, her starry train:
But neither breath of Morn, when she ascends
With charm of earliest birds; nor rising Sun
On this delightful land; nor herb, fruit, flower,
Glistering with dew; nor fragrance after showers:
Nor grateful Evening mild; nor silent Night,
With this her solemn bird; nor walk by Moon,
Or glittering star-light, without thee, is sweet.

MILTON.

HEAP

EAP on more wood! the wind is chill;
But let it whistle as it will,

We'll keep our Christmas merry still!
Each age has deem'd the new-born year
The fittest time for festal cheer;
E'en heathen yet, the savage Dane
At Iol more deep the mead did drain,
High on the beach his galleys drew,
And feasted all his pirate crew;
Then in his low and pine-built hall,
Where shields and axes deck'd the wall,
They gorged upon the half-dress'd steer,
Caroused in seas of sable beer,

While round, in brutal jest, were thrown
The half-gnaw'd rib, and marrow-bone;
Or listen'd all, in grim delight,

While Scalds yell'd out the joys of fight.
Then forth in frenzy would they hie,
While wildly loose their red locks fly,
And dancing round the blazing pile
They make such barbarous mirth the while,
As best might to the mind recal
The boisterous joys of Odin's hall.

And well our Christian sires of old Loved when the year its course had roll'd, And brought blithe Christmas back again With all his hospitable train.

Domestic and religious rite

Gave honour to the holy night:

On Christmas-eve the bells were rung;
On Christmas-eve the mass was sung:
That only night in all the
year,
Saw the stoled priest the chalice rear.
The damsel donn'd her kirtle sheen;
The hall was dress'd with holly green;
Forth to the wood did merry-men go
To gather in the mistletoe.

Then open'd wide the Baron's hall
To vassal, tenant, serf, and all;
Power laid his rod of rule aside,
And Ceremony doff'd her pride.
The heir, with roses in his shoes,
That night might village partner choose;
The lord underogating share

The vulgar game of "post and pair. "
All hail'd with uncontroll'd delight
And general voice the happy night,
That to the cottage, as the crown,
Brought tidings of salvation down.

The fire, with well-dried logs supplied,
Went roaring up the chimney wide;
The huge hall-table's oaken face,
Scrubb'd till it shone, the day to grace,
Bore then upon its massive board
No mark to part the squire and lord.
Then was brought in the lusty brawn
By old blue-coated serving-man;

Then the grim boar's-head frown'd on high,
Crested with bays and rosemary.

Well can the green-garb'd ranger tell,
How, when, and where, the monster fell