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Were moving ;-from the gnarled boughs above
The ring-dove pour'd its amorous plaint, and there
No more on man dependent, ’mid the leaves,
The red-breast built its Summer nest secure.

*Fit spot,' I cried, “for Grecian bard to feign
Panisk, or fawn, amid the noonday heat
Reposing, or a band of paranymphs,
Such is the poet's high record, at eve
Discoursing in their soft Helladian tongue.
Or here, perchance, the silver-footed fays,
Tripping to moonlight minstrelsy, might start
The aged shepherd hastening down the glen.'-
Thou in this sylvan bower, ʼmid tufted moss
And wrinkled fern, with colour'd weeds commix'd,
And glossy leaves of velvet texture, laid,
With hazel, and with hawthorn blossoms hung,
Like to a Tuscan lady in her bloom
Of richest beauty, as by Arno’s vale,
Or where his shaded waters Arbia spreads,
Stepping from forth her princely halls, to taste
The breeze,entranc'd I'veseen— thou, there reclin'd;
Or as some gertle Dryad, who at eve
Just stealing from her timid covert, hears
Young Zephyr breathe his vow.—The day was

clos'd;
The morning's roseate glow—The golden blaze
Meridian,—and the eve's purpureal sky.-
Oh day! as innocent, as fair !—and thou,
Fair as the day, and young and innocent,
Sweet maiden ; thou not seldom to thine eye
(As oft again on these retiring sands
Thy evening footsteps shall be seen) wilt call

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'Mid blushing smiles, and sunny tears, that speak
Of fond remembrance, all that memory holds
Of this sweet pilgrimage the winding shore,
The soft enamellid margin-the long sweep
Of those majestic woods, which o'er the wave
Flung deep their emerald shadows,—the far hills ;
The grey rock, with its blue springs trickling down
Through thick concealing foliage ;-and the vale,
The long withdrawing vale, where Deben winds
His solitary wave from shore to shore,
To where the fountains of the Ocean lie.

J. M.

BENHALL, 20th September, 1835.

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