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Piercing a wood, and skirting a | Eying one moment the beauty, the narrow and natural causeway

life, ere he tlung himself in it, Under the rocky wall that hedyes Eying through edilying green waters the bed of the streamlet,

the green tinting tloor underRounded a craggy point, and saw on

neath them, a sudden before them

Eying the bead on the surface, the Slabs of rock, and a tiny beach, and

bead, like a cloud, rising to it, perfection of water,

Drinking in, deep in his soul, the Picture-like beauty, seclusion sub

beautiful liue and the clearlime, and the goddess of bati

ness, ing.

Arthur, the shapely, the brave, the There they bathed, of course, and

unboasting, the glory of Arthur, the glory of headers,

headers; Leapt from the ledges with Hope, Yes, and with fragrant weed, by his he twenty feet, he thirty;

knapsack, spectator and critic, There, overboli, great Hobbes from Seated on stab by the margin, the a ten-foot height descended,

Piper, the Cloud-compeller. Prone, as a qualruped, prone with

CLOUGH. hands and feet protending; There in the sparkling champagne, ecstatic, they shrieked and

SWIMMING. shouted. “ Hobbes's gutter," the Piper en

IIow many a time have I titles the spot, profanely, Cloven, with arm still lustier, breast Hope “ the Glory” would have,

more daring, after Arthur, the glory of The wave all roughened; with a headers:

swimmer's stroke But, for before they departed, in shy Flinging the billows back from my and fugitive reflex

drenched hair, Here in the eddies and there did And laughing from my lip the audathe splendor of Jupiter glim

cious brine, mler,

Which kissed it like a wine-cup, risAdam adjudged it the name of

ing o'er Hesperus, star of the even The waves as they arose, and prouder

still Hither, to jesperus, now, the star The loftier they uplifted me; and of evening above them,

oft, Come in their lonelier walk the pupils In wantonness of spirit, plunging twain and Tutor;

down Turned from the track of the carts, Into their green and glassy gufs, and and passing the stone and

making shingle,

My way to shells and seaweed, all Piercing the wood, and skirting the

unቦe1 stream by the natural cause By those above, till they waxed fearway,

ful; then Rounded the craggy point, and now Returning with my grasp full of such at their ease looked up; and

tokens Lo, on the rocky ledge, regardant, As showed that I had searched the the Glory of headers,

deep; exulting, Lo, on the beach, expecting the With a far-dashing stroke, and drawplunge, not cigarless, the

ing deep

The long-suspended breath, again I And they looked, and wondered, in

spurned credulous, looking yet once The foam which broke around me, more.

and pursued Yes, it was he, on the ledge, bare My track like a sea-bird. - I was a limbed, an Apollo, down-gaz

boy then. ing,





Have I, reclining back upon my

heels, - In the frosty season, when the Stopp'd short; yet still the solitary sun

cliffs Was set, and, visible for many a Wheelel by me, even as if the earth mile,

had rolli The cottage windows through the With visible motion her diurnal twllight blazed,

round, I heeded not the summons: happy | Behind me did they stretch in soltime

emn train, It was indeed for all of us; for me Feebler and feebler, and I stood and It was a time of rapture. Clear and

watcli'd loud

Till all was tranquil as a summer sea. The village clock tolled six. I

WORDSWORTH. wheeld about, Proud and exulting, like an untired horse

WINTER. — A DIRGE. That cares not for its home. All shod with steel,

The wintry west extends his blast, We hiss'd along the polish'd ice in And hail and rain does blaw; games

Or the stormy north sends driving Confederate, imitative of the chase

forth And woodland pleasures, - the re The blinding sleet and snaw: sounding horn,

While tumbling brown, the burn The pack loud-bellowing, and the

comes down, haunted hare.

And roars frae bank to brae; So through the darkness and the And bird and beast in covert rest, cold we flew,

And pass the heartless day. And not a voice was idle: with the din

“ The sweeping blast the sky o'erMeanwhile the precipices rang aloud;

cast," The leatless trees and every icy The joyless winter-day, crag

Let others fear, to me more dear Tingled like iron; while the distant Than all the pride of May; hills

The tempest's howl, it soothes my Into the tumult sent an alien sound

soul, Of melancholy, not unnoticed, while | My griefs it seems to join ; the stars,

The leafless trees my fancy please, Eastward, were sparkling clear, and Their fate resembles mine!

in the westThe orange sky of evening died Thou Power Supreme, whose mighty away.


These woes of mine fufil, Not seldom from the uproar I retired Ilere, firm, I rest, they must be best, Into a silent bay, or sportively

Because they are thy will. Glanced sideway, leaving the tumult Then all I want (oli, do thoil grant nous throng,

This one request of mine!) To cut across the image of a star Since to enjoy thou dost deny, That gleam'll upon the ice; and Assist me to resign! oftentimes,

Burns. When we had given our bodies to the wind,

SNOW. And all the shadowy banks on either side

FLEET the Tartar's reinless steed, Came sweoning through the dark But fleeter far the pinions of the ness, spinning still

wind, The rapid line of motion, then at Which from Siberia's caves the mononice

arch freed,

And sent him forth, with squadrons | Far from the track, and bless'd abode of his kind,

of man; And bade the snow their ample backs While round him night resistless bestride,

closes fast, . And to the battle ride: And every tempest, howling o'er his No pitving voice cominands a halt,

head, No courage can repel-the dire as Renders the savage wilderness more sault:

wild. Distracted, spiritless, benumbed, and Then throng the busy shapes into blind,

his mind, Whole legions sink, and, in an in- .1. Of covered pits unfathomably stant, find

deep, Burial and death: look for them, | A dire descent! beyond the power and descry,

of frost; When morn returns, beneath the Of faithless bogs; of precipices clear blue sky,

huge, A soundless waste, a trackless va Smoothed up with snow; and what cancy!

is land unknown, WORDSWORTH. What water, of the still unfrozen

spring, In the loose marsh or solitary lake,

Where the fresh fountain from the LOST IN THE SNOW.

bottom boils.

These check his fearful steps; and THE Snows arise; and, foul and

down lie sinks fierce,

Beneath the shelter of the shapeless All winter drives along the darkened

drift, air:

Thinking o'er all the bitterness of In his own loose-revolving fields the

death; swain

Mixed with the tender anguish NaDisastered stands; sees other hills

ture shoots ascend,

Through the wrung bosom of the Of unknown joyless brow; and other

living man, scenes,

His wife, his children, and his friends Of horrid prospect, shag the track

useen. less plain:

In vain for him th’officious wife preNor finds the river, nor the forest,

pares did

The fire fair-blazing, and the vestBeneath the formless wild, but wan

ment warm; ders on

In vain his little children, peeping From hill to dale, still more and

out more astray:

Into the mingling storm, demand Impatient flouncing through the

their sire, drifted heaps,

With tears of artless innocence. Stung with the thoughts of home;

Alas! the thoughts of home

Nor wife, nor children, more shall he Rush on his nerves, and call their

behold; vigor forth

Nor friends, nor sacred home. On In many a vain attempt. How sinks

every nerve his soul!

The deadily Winter seizes; shuts up What black despair, what horror, fills

sense, his heart!

And, o'er his inmost vitals creeping When, for'the dusky spot which fan

cold, cy feigned

Lays him along the snows a stiffened His tufted cottage rising through the

corse, snow,

Stretched out, and bleaching in the He meets the roughness of the mid

northern blast. dle waste,

THOMSON. call,


“O) ye! who, sunk in beds of

down, Whey biting Boreas, fell and doure, | Feel not a want but what yourselves Sharp shivers thro' the leatless

create, bow'r;

Think for a moment on his wretched When Phoebus gies a short-liv'd

fate, glow

Whom friends and fortune quite Far south the lift,

disown! Dim dark ning thro' the flaky | Il satisfied keen Nature's clamorous show'r, Or whirlin' drift: hemStretched on his straw, he lays

himself to sleep, Ae night the storm the steeples While thro' the ragged roof and roeked,

chinky wall, Poor labor sweet in sleep was Chill o'er his slumbers piles the locked,

drifty heap!" While burns, wi' snawy wreaths upchocked,

Wild-eddying swirl, Or thro' the mining outlet bocked, I heard nae mair, for Chanticleer Down headlong hurl. Shook off the poutheryshaw,

And hailed the morning with a Listening, the doors an' winsocks

cheer, — rattle.

A cottage-rousing craw! I thought me on the ourie cattle,

Burns. Or silly sheep, wha bide this brattle

O' winter war,
And thro' the drift, deep-lairing | THE DEATII OF THE OLD

Beneath a scar.

FULL knee-deep lies the winter Ilk happing bird, wee, helpless thing,

Show, That, in the merry months o' spring, And the winter winds are weariDelighted me to hear thee sing,

ly sighing: What comes othee? Toll ve the church-bell sad and slow, Whare wilt thou cow'r thy chitt'ring And tread softly, and speak low, wing,

For the old year lies a-lying.,
An' close thy e'e ?

Old year, you must not die;

You came to us so readily, E'en you on murd'ring errands You lived with 11s so steadily, toil'il,

Old year, you shall not die. Lone from your savage homes exiled,

Ile lieth still: he doch not move: The blood-stained roost, and sheep He will not see the dawn of day. cote spoiled,

He hath no other lite above.
My heart forgets,

He gave me a friend, and a true While pitiless the tempest wild

true-love, Sore on you beats. And the New-year will take 'em

• away. Now Phoebe, in her midnight reign, Old year, you must not go; Dark mutiled, viewed the dreary So long as you have been with

plain; Still crowding thoughts, a pensive Such joy as you have seen with

" Rose in my soul,

Old year, you shall not go.
While on my ear this plaintive

IIe frothed his bumpers to the Slow, solemn, stole:



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A jollier year we shall not see. Amid young flowers and tender But though his eyes are waxing dim,

grass And though his fões speak ill of him, Thy endless infancy shalt pass; He was a friend to me.

And, singing down thy narrow glen,
Old vear, you shall not die; Shalt mock the fading race of men."
We did so laugh and cry with you,

I've half a mind to die with you,
Old year, if you must die.

He was full of joke and jest;
But all his merry quips are o'er: v How vainly men themselves amaze,
To see him die, across the waste To win the palm, the oak, or bays,
Ilis son and heir doth ride post And their incessant labors see

Crowned from some single herb or But he'll be dead before.

tree, Every one for his own.

Whose short and narrow-verged The night is starry and cold, my

shade friend,

Does prudently their toils upbraid; And the New-year blithe aud While all the flowers and trees do bold, my friend,

close, Comes up to take his own.

To weave the garlands of repose! How hard he breathes! over the Fair Quiet, have I found thee Snow

here, I heard just now the crowing cock. And Innocence, thy sister dear? The shadows flicker to and fro; Mistaken long, I sought you then The cricket chirps; the light burns In busy companies of men. low:

Your sacred plants, if here below, 'Tis nearly twelve o'clock.

Only among the plants will grow:
Shake hands, before you die. Society is all but rude
Old year, we'll dearly rue for To this delicious solitude.

you: What is it we can do for you? No white nor red was ever seen Speak out before you die.

So amorous as this lovely green.

Fond lovers, cruel as their flame, His face is growing sharp and thin., Cut in these trees their mistress' Alack! our friend is gone.

name: Close up his eyes: tie up his chin: Little, alas! they know or heed Step from the corpse, and let him in How far these beauties her exceed! That standeth there alone,

Fair trees! where'er your barks I And waiteth at the door.

There's a new foot on the floor, No nanie shall but your own be
my friend,

And a new face at the door, my

When we have run our passion's
A new face at the door.

heat, TENNYSOX. Love hither makes his best retreat.

The gods, who mortal beauty chase,

Still in a tree did end their race; THE RIVULET.

Apollo hunted Daphue so,

Only that she might laurel grow; And I shall sleep; and on thy side, And Pan did after Syrinx speed, As ages after ages glide,

Not as a nymph, but for a reed.
Children their early sports shall try,
And pass to hoary age, and die.

What wondrous life is this I lead! But thou, unchanged from year to | Ripe apples drop about my head; year,

The luscious clusters of the vine Gayly shalt play and glitter here : : Upon my mouth do crush their wine;

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