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Before, beside us, and above,
Enough, enough, the rustling trees
L. E. LANDON.
The wind is sweeping o'er the hill ;
It hath a mournful sound,
Its weary wing hath found.
Swept over leaf and flower :
And bloom for every hour.
It wandered through the pleasant-wood,
And caught the dove's lone song ;
The rose's breath along.
No rose is opening now-
Is vacant on the bough.
Oh, human heart and wandering wind,
Go look upon the past;
Their summer did not last.
One o'er a flower and leaf; The other over hopes and joys,
Whose beauty was as brief.
THE FLIGHT OF XERXES.
I saw him on the battle eve,
When like a king he bore him ! Proud hosts in glittering helm and greave,
And prouder chiefs before him : The warrior, and the warrior's deeds, The morrow,
and the morrow's meeds,No daunting thoughts came o'er him ;He look'd around him, and his eye Defiance flash'd to earth and sky!
He look'd on ocean,-its broad breast
Was covered with his fleet ;
His banner'd millions meet :
The thunder of their feet!
I saw him next alone ;-nor camp
Nor chief his steps attended,
With war-cries proudly blended :-
He who with heaven contended
Fled, like a fugitive and slave ;
He stood, -fleet, army, treasure gone,
Alone, and in despair ! While wave and wind swept ruthless on,
For they were monarchs there ;
Must all thy fury dare;-
ODE TO AUTUMN.
Syren! of sullen woods and fading hues,
Sweet Autumn, I thee hail !
With welcome all unfeigned ;
To drink the dewy breath
To solitudes, where no frequented path
By overshadow'd ponds, in woody nooks,
That woo the winds to play,
And meadow pools, torn wide by lawless floods, Where waterlilies spread their glossy leaves,
On which the drag
Yet batteps in the sun ;
His apgle clear of weeds,
Or crispy hills, and hollows scant of sward,
Hath cut rude flights of stairs,
To climb their steepy sides ; Then, tracking at their feet, grown hoarse with
noise, The moaning brook, that ekes its weary speed,
And struggles through the weeds
These haunts, long favour'd, but more so now,
Stealing glad thoughts from grief,
And happy though I sigh !
Pain would I win thine harp