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The cottage curs at early pilgrim bark;
Crown'd with her pail the tripping milk-maid sings;
The whistling ploughman stalks afield; and, hark !
Down the rough slope the pond'rous waggon rings;
Through rustling corn the hare astonish'd springs;
Slow tolls the village-clock the drowsy hour;
The partridge bursts away on whirring wings;
Deep mourns the turtle in sequester’d bower,
And shrill lark carols clear from her aerial tower.


Oft when the winter-storm had ceas'd to rave,
He roam'd the snowy waste at even, to view
The cloud stupendous, from th’Atlantic wave
High-tow'ring, sail along th' horizon blue :
Where 'midst the changeful scenery, ever new,
Fancy a thousand wondrous forms descries
More wildly great than ever pencil drew,
Rocks, torrents, gulfs, and shapes of giant size ;
And glitt’ring cliffs on cliffs, and fiery ramparts


In black array

Thence musing onward to the sounding shore,
The lone Enthusiast oft would take his way,
List’ning with pleasing dread to the deep roar
Of the wide-welt’ring waves.
When sulphurous clouds rolld on the vernal day,
Even then he hasten'd from the haunt of man,
Along the darken'd wilderness to stray,
What time the lightning's fierce career began,
And o'er heav’n’s rending arch the rattling thunder


Responsive to the sprightly pipe when all
In sprightly dance the village youth were join'd,
Edwin, of melody aye held in thrall,
From the rude gambols far remote reclin’d,

Sooth'd with the soft notes warbling in the wind.
Ah then, all jollity seem'd noise and folly.
To the pure soul by Fancy's fire refin’d,
Ah! what is mirth but turbulence unholy,
When with the charm compar'd of heav'nly melan-





With burning bosom, and with tearful eyes,

Scenes of my youth, I bid you all farewell! The sunny hill that seems to prop the skies, The op'ning glade and broomwood-blossom'd

vale !

Much-lov'd retreats! where, in life's morn se

rene, And heedless of its flight, I oft have stray'd; Mark'd the wild flowers that chequer'd all the

Or listen'd to the music of the shade;-

Where I could wander yet with new delight,

Would Fate, indulgent, listen to my prayer ; Pipe in the grove, or scale the mountain's height,

And think no shades so cool, no fields so fair.

But Heav'n's high fiat is, that we must part;

And I obey !—but as I turn to go, A tide of tenderness comes o'er my heart, Sighs swell my breast, and tears my eyes o'er


Here then, all melancholy, let me stop,

And fix my gaze, and look my last adieu ; Mourn my unhappy destiny, and drop

A tear of sorrow o'er the sad review.

Sweet were the hours when, wak’d by morning's

ray, The grove's full choir with holy rapture glow'd; And down the dewy vale I bent my way,

To muse on nature, and on nature's God.

And when the ev’ning came with dance and song,

How lightly have I tript the dewy green, Whilst yellow moonlight play'd the trees among, And the breeze brought the fragrance of the


Laid in the lap of Flora, far from strife,

Or roaming the bare waste, a shepherd swain, I scorn’d the lying vanities of life,

Pomp, honour, power, an ever-cheating train!

And Health and Peace, sweet soothers of our toil,

Where'er I went, their cheering smile return'd; Whether I roam'd the shade, and pip'd the while,

Or sought the dell where Philomela mourn'd.

Oh! well I lov'd, where gleams the mountain

lake, Unheard, unseen, at ev'ning hour to stray; And list to thee, sweet minstrel of the brake,

And join thy melting, melancholy lay.

There, as I pass'd, with silent step and slow,

A pleasing sadness o'er my bosom stole, And oft, I knew not why, a tear would flow,

A sigh of sympathy escape my soul.

But chief I lov’d, beneath yon hallow'd shade, Where the clear stream with many a murmur

flows, To rove with fair Amelia, sweetest maid !

And braid her tresses with the full-blown rose.

Ah, me! while ling'ring there in early life,

How fondly have I dreamt of future joys, When I should call the fair Amelia wife,

And view her children with a parent's eyes !

These are the flatt'ring visions I have prov'd ;

These are the pleasures I no more shall share; With all the blandishments of friends belov'd,

Join'd to a parent's smile, a parent's care.

Oh! sad reverse of all those dear delights !

I go, at Destiny's supreme command, To where the yellow plague health's blossom

blights, And frequent earthquakes desolate the land.

And, see! the sun slow sinks in Ocean's bed,

And warns me hence, ere Night, in solemn state, Come riding on her ebon car, to spread

O'er all, a cloud dark as my future fate.

Ah! then farewell all that my soul holds dear!

Already far from your lov’d haunts I stray, Without one gladd’ning beam of joy to cheer,

Or guide a weary wand'rer on his way.




How sweet it is, in twilight shade,

To tread the scenes of earliest youth, When all that then our bosoms sway'd,

Was joy, and innocence, and truth. The trees--the stream-the thrush's song

Recall the visions which had fled ; And recollections, absent long,

Return, and dwell upon the dead !

The landscape glows with beauty still ;

But, ah ! as o'er the scene we range, The steadfast grove, and changeless rill,

Seem to have undergone a change ; And though, of all the earth, I ween,

They, in our eyes, most fair remain, Yet nought, ʼmid all so sweet, is seen

So bright and beautiful as then!

With them the woful change is not

'Tis recollection looks behind To feelings not to be forgot

Engraven on the youthful mind. Who shar'd those feelings, now, alas !

Within the church-yard silent lie; And nought remains, save forms that pass

The mirror of the memory.

Or such as, still endued with life,

Tread this wide theatre below, Distance-pursuits—and stir, and strife, Between us endless barriers throw.


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