Here sunny slopes invite the view; Ye bachelors, come here, and then I dare ye to live single; How can ye, where such nymphs are seen SONNET. THE PRIMROSE. Of all the gems that Earth's green bosom grace, Blooms in yon Cot upon the bleak hill-side! So sweet Content, unknown to Wealth and Pride, With rustic toil her quiet dwelling has. Loved Flow'r! thy term of life is brief, but thou SONNET. TO A ROBIN SINGING ON A NOVEMBER MORNING. EMBLEM of Hope! thou minstrel sweet, that sings And Winter tramples on the leaflet sere, And flowers are not-Oh tell me what thus brings SONNET. Addressed to J. Ferguson, of Carlyle, on reading his "Shadow of the Pyramid -a volume of Sonnets descriptive of a tour through Egypt and the Holy Land. BARD of the lay that tells of Egypt's land, Who would not own the magic of thy rhyme? Palace and pyramid and temple grand -Titanic structures fashion'd for all time— H Gracefully conjured up at thy command, I gaze enraptured on their forms sublime. I see the chosen Chief, whose wondrous wand Awed and confounded prince and priest and seer, O'er the Red Sea, majestic, stretch his handThe foes of God and Israel pressing near: The waves once more divide-God's chosen band Walk safely through, while Egypt's hosts are drown'd: Thy song is as if, 'mid the desert sand, The harp inspired of Miriam thou hadst found! DISENCHANTED. So thou hast "changed thy mind," What then? To wonder at, were quite as vain No, Amy, if I now repine, 'Tis not that others bend the knee In welcome homage at the shrine Once sacred unto me; I grieve that I could ever bow Where all who list may worship now! And this is she I once could deem A being less of earth than Heaven! The veil at length is riven— Farewell, fair, fickle one! A while, The stricken deer may seek the shade,- My heart shall yet to joy be wed, I tear thee ever from my heart. TARLOCHAN'S ADVICE TO HIS SON. (PARAPHRASED FROM THE GAELIC.) ONE advice I would give you, my son, in this strain— Be not daunted too much by a seeming disdain,— Should you meet a fine girl"—as fond fools it express Be not lured by her shape or her air;— Snakes oft lurk among flowers-and if heedless you pass, You may live, when too late, to exclaim "What an ass, Not to think she might false be as fair!" Beneath a bright landscape the earthquake may sleep; The river where calmest is always most deep, Then seek you in woman the charms of the mind,— Mere rose-tinted cheeks, air or accent refined, Must not win your young heart, or too late you may find You have built on the ice-you have trusted the wind— You have made your whole lifetime a sigh. A LAST FOND FAREWELL. As some beacon-light, far-throwing Loved one! thus, when shadows dreary Came thy gentle smiles to cheer me, Chasing all the gloom away; |