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With footing worne, and leading in- | Of Umfraville or Percy ere they ward far:

marched Faire barbour that them seems; so To Scotland's heaths; or those that in they entred are.

crossed the sea,

And drew their sounding bows at And forth they passe, with pleasure

Azincour; forward led,

Perhaps at earlier Crecy, or PoicJoying to heare the birdes' sweete

tiers. harmony,

Of vast circumference and gloom Which therein shrouded from the

profound tempest dred,

This solitary tree! a living thing Seemed in their song to scorne the Produced too slowly ever to decay; cruell sky.

Of form and aspect too magnifiMuch can they praise the trees so

cent straight and high,

To be destroyed. But worthier still The sayling pine; the cedar proud

of note and tall;

Are tlrose fraternal Four of BorrowThe vine-propp elme; the poplar nev

dale, er lry;

Joined in one solemn and capacious The builder oake, sole king of for

grove; rests all;

Huge trunks! and cach particular The aspine good for staves; the cy

trunk a growth presse funerall;

Of intertwisted fibres serpentine

Up-coiling, and inveterately conThe laurell meed of mightie con

volved; querours

Nor uninformed with fantasy, and And poets sage; the fir that weep

looks eth still;

That threaten the profane; a pillared The willow, worne of forlorne para

shade, mours;

Upon whose grassless floor of redThe yew, obedient to the bender's

brown hue, will;

By sheddings from the pining umThe birch for shaftes; the sallow for

brace tinged the inill;

Perennially; beneath whose sable The mirrhe sweet-bleeding in the bitter wound;

Of boughs, as if for festal purpose, The warlike beech; the ash for

decked nothing ill;

With unrejoicing berries, ghostly The fruitful olive; and the platane

shapes round;

May meet at noontide; Fear, and The carver holme; the maple, sel

trembling Hope, dom inward sound.

Silence, and Foresight; Death the
SPENSER.

Skeleton,
And Time the Shadow; there to cele-

brate,

As in a natural temple scattered YEW-TREES.

o'er

With altars undisturbed of mossy There is a yew-tree, pride of Lor

stone, ton Vale,

United worship; or in mute reWhich to this day stands single in

pose the midst

To lie, and listen to the mountain Of its own darkness, as it stood of

tlocd vore:

Murmuring from Glaramara's inNot loath to furnish weapons for the

most caves. bands

WORDSWORTH.

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THE OSMUNDA REGALIS.

L TO THE HERB ROSEMARY.

long, —

OFTEN, trifling with a privilege SWEET-SCENTED flower! who art Alike indulged to all, we paused, one

wont to bloom now,

On January's front severe, And now the other, to point out, And o'er the wintry desert drear perchance

To waft thy waste perfume! To pluck, some flower or water-weed Come, thou shalt form my nosegay too fair

Now' Either to be divided from the place And I will bind thee round my brow; On which it grew, or to be left alone And as I twine the mournfu To its own beauty. Many such there

wreath, are,

I'll weave a melancholy song, Fair ferns and flowers, and chiefly And sweet the strain shall be, and

that tall fern, So stately, of the queen Osmunda The melody of death.

Named; Plant lovelier, in its own retired abode Come, funeral flower! who lov'st to On Grasmere's beach, than Naiad by

dwell the side

With the pale corse in lonely Of Grecian brook, or Lady of the

tomb, Mere,

And throw across the desert gloom Sole-sitting by the shores of old ro A sweet decaying smell. mance.

Come, press my lips, and lie with
WordsWORTI.

me
Beneath the lowly alder-tree,

And we will sleep a pleasant sleep,
THE BARBERRY-BUSH. And not a care shall dare in-

trude Tue bush that has most briers and To break the marble solitude, bitter fruit:

So peaceful and so deep. Wait till the frost has turned its green leaves red,

And hark! the wind-god, as he flies, Its sweetened berries will thy palate Moans hollow in the forest trees, suit,

And, sailing on the gusty breeze, And thou mayst find e'en there a Mysterious music dies. homely bread.

Sweet flower! that requiem wild Upon the hills of Salem scattered

is mine; wide,

It warns me to the lonely shrine, Their yellow blossoms gain the eye The cold turf altar of the dead; in spring;

My grave shall be in yon lone And, straggling e'en upon the turn

spot, pike's side,

Where as I lie, by all forgot, Their ripened branches to your hand | A dying fragrance thou wilt o'er my they bring.

ashes shed. I've plucked them oft in boyhood's

H. K. WHITE. early hour, That then I gave such name, and thought it true;

THE PRIMROSE. But now I know that other fruit as sour

Ask me why I send you here Grows on what now thou callest me This sweet Infanta of the yeere? and you:

Ask me why I send to you Yet wilt thou wait, the autumn that This Primrose, thus bepearld with I see

- dew? Will sweeter taste than these red I will whisper to your eares, berries be.

The sweets of love are mixt with Joxes VERY.

tears.

Ask me why this flower does show | A poet could not but be gay So yellow-green and sickly too?

In such a jocund company: Ask me why the stalk is weak

I gazed, and gazed, but little thought And bending, yet it doth not break? What wealth the show to me had I will answer, these discover

brought: What fainting hopes are in a lover.

HERRICK. For oft, when on my couch I lie

In vacant or in pensive mood,
They flash upon that in ward eye

Which is the bliss of solitude;
TO DAFFODILLS.

And then my heart with pleasure

fills, FAIRE Daffodills, we weep to see And dances with the daffodils. You haste away so soone;

WORDSWORTH. As yet the early rising sun Has not attain'd his noone.

Stay, stay,
Untill the hasting day

TO BLOSSOMS.
Has run
But to the even-song;

Fair pledges of a fruitful tree,
And, having pray'd together, we

Why do ye fall so fast? Will goe with you along.

Your date is not so past, We have shiort time to stay as you,

But you may stay yet here a while

To blush and gently smile,
We have as short a spring;
As quick a growth to meet decay,

And go at last.
As you, or any thing.
We die

What, were ve born to be
As your hours doe, and drie

An hour or half's delight,
Away,

And so to bid good-night?
Like to the summer's raine;

'Twas pity Nature brought ye forth Or as the pearles of morning's dew,

Merely to show your worth,
Ne'er to be found againe.

Aud lose you quite.
HERRICK.

But you are lovely leaves, where we
May read how soon things have

Their end, though ne'er so brave:
DAFFODILS,

And after they have shown their

pride I WANDERED lonely as a cloud

Like you, a while, they glide That floats on high o'er vales and Into the grave. hills,

HERRICK. When all at once I saw a crowd, A host, of golden daffodils; Beside the lake, beneath the trees, Fluttering, dancing in the breeze.

LIBERTY.

Continuous as the stars that shine Who can divine what impulses from And twinkle on the milky way,

God They stretched in never-ending line Reach the caged lark, within a town Along the margin of a bay:

abode, Ten thousand saw I at a glance, From his poor inch or two of daisied Tossing their heads in sprightly

sod? dance.

Oh, yield him back his privilege! No

sea The waves beside them danced; but | Swells like the bosom of a man set they

free: Outdid the sparkling waves in glee: | A wilderness is rich with liberty.

SEPTEMBER.

1819.

Roll on, ye spouting whales, who die

or keep Your independence in the fathomless

deep! Spread, tiny Nautilus, the living sail; Dive, at thy choice, or brave the

freshening gale! If unreproved the ambitious eagle

mount Sunward to seek the daylight in its

fout, Bays, guufs, and ocean's Indian

width, shall be, Till the world perishes, a field for thee!

WORDSWORTH.

And, sooth to say, yon vocal grove
Albeit uninspired by love,
By love utaught to ring,
May well afford to mortal ear
An impulse more profoundly dear
Than music of the spring.
But list! though winter's storms be

nigh,
Unchecked is that soft harmony:
There lives Who can provide
For all his creatures, and in him,
Even like the radiant Seraphim,
These Choristers confide.

WORDSWORTII.

NIGHT.

COME, seeling night, Skarf up the tender eye of pitiful

NIGHTINGALE. day, And, with thy bloody and invisible OFT when, returning with her loaded hand,

bill. Cancel, and tear to pieces, that great Thi' astonislı'd mother finds a vacant bond

nest, Which keeps me pale! - Light thick By the hard hand of unrelenting ens; and the crow

clown Makes wing to the rooky wood. Robb’d; to the ground the vain proSIIAKSPEARE: Macbeth.

vision falls; Her pinions rutile, and low-drooping

scarce TIIE DIAMOND.

Can bear the mourner to the poplar

shade; STAR of the flowers, and flower of the Where, all abandoned to despair, she stars,

sings And earth of the earth, art thou! Her sorrows thro’ the night; and on Aud darkness liath battles, and light

the bough hath wars

Sole-sitting, still at every dying fall That pass in thy beautiful brow. Takes up again her lamentable strain

Of winding woe, till, wide around, The eye of the ground thus was

the woods planted by heaven,

Sigh to her song, and with hier wail And the dust was new wed to the

resound. SUM,

Thomsox. And the monarch went forth, and

the earth-star was given, That should back to the heaven-star

THE NIGHTINGALE. run.

Tuou wast not born for death, imSo in all things it is: the first origin

mortal bird! lives,

No hungry generations tread thee And loves his life out to his flock;

down; And in dust, and in matter, and na- | The voice I hear this passing night ture, he gives

was heard The spirit's last spark to the rock. In ancient days by emperor and

J. J. G. WILKINSON. I clown,

Perhaps the selfsame song that found | They are gone, they are gone; but I a path

go not with them, Through the sad heart of Ruth, I linger to weep o'er its desolate when, sick for home,

stem. She stood in tears amid the alien corn;

They say if I rove to the south I The same that oft-times hath

shall meet Charmed magic casements, opening With hundreds of roses more fair on the foam

and more sweet; Of perilous seas, in faerylands | But my heart, when I'm tempted to forlorn.

wander, replies, KEATS. Here my first love, my last love, my

only love lies,

THE NIGHTINGALE.

When the last leaf is withered, and

falls to the earth, The false one to southerly climes

may fly forth; But truth cannot fly from his sor

rows: he dies, Where his first love, his last love, his only love lies.

T. H. BAYLY.

THE NIGHTINGALE'S DEATH

SONG.

As it fell upon a day
In the merry month of May,
Sitting in a pleasant shade
Which a grove of myrtles made,
Beasts did leap, and birds did sing,
Trees did grow, and plants did

spring,
Every thing did banish moan,
Save the nightingale alone.
She, poor bird, as all forlorn,
Leaned her breast against a thorn,
And there sung the dolefulest ditty,
That to hear it was great pity.
Fie, fie, fie! now would she cry;
Tereu, tereu, by and by:
That to hear her so complain
Scarce I could from tears refrain;
For her griefs so lively shown
Made me think upon mine own.
Ah, thought I, thou mourn'st in

vain,
None takes pity on thy pain :
Senseless trees, they cannot hear

MOURNFULLY, sing mournfully,

And die away my heart!
The rose, the glorious rose, is gone,

And I, too, will depart.

thee,

Ruthless beasts, they will not cheer

thee;
King Pandiva, he is dead,
All thy friends are lapp'd in lead :
All thy fellow-birds do sing
Careless of thy sorrowing;
Even so, poor bird, like thee,
None alive will pity me.

R. BARNEFIELD,

The skies have lost their splendor,

The waters changed their tone..
And wherefore, in the faded world,

Should music linger on?
Where is the golden sunshine,

And where the flower-cup's glow?
And where the joy of the dancing

leaves, And the fountain's laughing flow? Tell of the brightness parted,

Thou bee, thou lamb at play! Thou lark, in thy victorious mirth!

Are ye, too, passed away?

With sunshine, with sweet odor,

With every precious thing,
Upon the last warm southern breeze,

My soul its flight shall wing.

THE NIGIITINGALE'S SONG.

Round my own pretty rose I have

hovered all day, I have seen its sweet leaves one by

Alone I shall not linger

When the days of hope are past, To watch the fall of leaf by leaf,

one fall away:

To wait the rushing blast.

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