And the next blighted crop or frosty spring Themselves to equal indigence may bring.

Mrs. Grant.-Born 1754, Died 1338.

1121. THE MARRIAGE OF CUPID AND PSYCHE; PSYCHE'S BANISHMENT.

-She rose, and all enchanted gazed On the rare beauties of the pleasant scene: Conspicuous far, a lofty palace blazed Upon a sloping bank of softest green; A fairer edifice was never seen;

The high-rang'd columns own no mortal hand,

But seem queen; Like polished snow the marble pillars stand,

a temple meet for Beauty's

In grace-attemper'd majesty, sublimely grand.

Gently ascending from a silvery flood,
Above the palace rose the shaded hill,
The lofty eminence was crown'd with wood,
And the rich lawns, adorn'd by nature's
skill,

The passing breezes with their odours fill;
Here ever-blooming groves of orange glow,
And here all flowers, which from their
leaves distil

Ambrosial dew, in sweet succession blow, And trees of matchless size a fragrant shade bestow.

The sun looks glorious 'mid a sky serene, And bids bright lustre sparkle o'er the tide ; The clear blue ocean at a distance seen, Bounds the gay landscape on the western side,

While closing round it with majestic pride, The lofty rocks mid citron groves arise; "Sure some divinity must here reside," As tranced in some bright vision, Psyche cries,

And scarce believes the bliss, or trusts her charmed eyes.

When lo! a voice divinely sweet she hears, From unseen lips proceeds the heavenly sound:

"Psyche approach, dismiss thy timid fears, At length his bride thy longing spouse has found,

And bids for thee immortal joys abound; For thee the palace rose at his command, For thee his love a bridal banquet crown'd; He bids attendant nymphs around thee stand,

Prompt every wish to serve-a fond obedient band."

Increasing wonder fill'd her ravish'd soul, For now the pompous portals open'd wide,

There, pausing oft, with timid foot she stole

Through halls high-domed, enrich'd with sculptured pride,

While gay saloons appear'd on either side, In splendid vista opening to her sight; And all with precious gems so beautified, And furnish'd with such exquisite delight, That scarce the beams of heaven emit such lustre bright.

The amethyst was there of violet hue
And there the topaz shed its golden ray,
The chrysoberyl, and the sapphire blue
As the clear azure of a sunny day,

Or the mild eyes where amorous glances play;

The snow-white jasper, and the opal's flame,

The blushing ruby, and the agate gray,

And there the gem which bears his luckless

name

Whose death, by Phoebus mourn'd, insured him deathless fame.

There the green emerald, there cornelians glow,

And rich carbuncles pour eternal light,
With all that India and Peru can show,
Or Labrador can give so flaming bright
To the charm'd mariner's half-dazzled
sight:

The coral-pavèd baths with diamonds blaze;
And all that can the female heart delight
Of fair attire, the last recess displays,
And all that luxury can ask, her eye surveys.

Now through the hall melodious music stole,

And self-prepared the splendid banquet stands,

Self-poured the nectar sparkles in the bowl, The lute and viol, touch'd by unseen hands, Aid the soft voices of the choral bands; O'er the full board a brighter lustre beams Than Persia's monarch at his feast commands:

For sweet refreshment all inviting seems To taste celestial food, and pure ambrosial

Allow'd to settle on celestial eyes,
Soft sleep, exulting, now exerts his sway,
From Psyche's anxious pillow gladly flies
To veil those orbs, whose pure and lambent
ray

The powers of heaven submissively obey.
Trembling and breathless then she softly

rose,

And seized the lamp, where it obscurely lay,

With hand too rashly daring to disclose The sacred veil which hung mysterious o'er her woes.

Twice, as with agitated step she went, The lamp expiring shone with doubtful gleam,

As though it warn'd her from her rash intent:

And twice she paused, and on its trembling beam

Gazed with suspended breath, while voices

seem

With murmuring sound along the roof to sigh;

As one just waking from a troublous dream, With palpitating heart and straining eye, Still fix'd with fear remains, still thinks the danger nigh.

Oh, daring Muse! wilt thou indeed essay To paint the wonders which that lamp could show?

And canst thou hope in living words to say The dazzling glories of that heavenly view? Ah! well I ween, that if with pencil true That splendid vision could be well express'd, The fearful awe imprudent Psyche knew Would seize with rapture every wondering

breast,

When Love's all-potent charms divinely stood confess'd.

All imperceptible to human touch,

His wings display celestial essence light; The clear effulgence of the blaze is such, The brilliant plumage shines so heavenly bright,

That mortal eyes turn dazzled from the sight;

A youth he seems, in manhood's freshest years;

Round his fair neck, as clinging with delight,

Each golden curl resplendently appears, Or shades his darker brow, which grace majestic wears:

Or o'er his guileless front the ringlets bright

Their rays of sunny lustre seem to throw, That front than polished ivory more white! His blooming cheeks with deeper blushes

glow

Than roses scatter'd o'er a bed of snow: While on his lips, distill'd in balmy dews

No traces of those joys, alas, remain !
A desert solitude alone appears;
No verdant shade relieves the sandy plain,
The wide-spread waste no gentle fountain
cheers;

One barren face the dreary prospect wears :
Nought through the vast horizon meets her

eye

To calm the dismal tumult of her fears; No trace of human habitation nigh: A sandy wild beneath, above a threatening sky.

Mary Tighe.-Born 1773, Died 1810.

1122.-THE LILY.

How withered, perish'd seems the form
Of yon obscure unsightly root!
Yet from the blight of wintry storm,
It hides secure the precious fruit.

The careless eye can find no grace,
No beauty in the scaly folds,
Nor see within the dark embrace

What latent loveliness it holds.
Yet in that bulb, those sapless scales,
The lily wraps her silver vest,
Till vernal suns and vernal gales

Shall kiss once more her fragrant breast.
Yes, hide beneath the mouldering heap
The undelighting slighted thing;
There in the cold earth buried deep,
In silence let it wait the spring.

Oh! many a stormy night shall close
In gloom upon the barren earth,
While still, in undisturb'd repose,

Uninjured lies the future birth:

And Ignorance with sceptic eye,

Hope's patient smile shall wondering view: Or mock her fond credulity,

As her soft tears the spot bedew.
Sweet smile of hope, delicious tear!
The sun, the shower indeed shall come;
The promis'd verdant shoot appear,

And nature bid her blossoms bloom.

And thou, O virgin queen of spring!

Shalt, from thy dark and lowly bed, Bursting thy green sheath's silken string, Unveil thy charms and perfume shed; Unfold thy robes of purest white, Unsullied from their darksome grave, And thy soft petals' silvery light

In the mild breeze unfettered wave. So Faith shall seek the lowly dust Where humble Sorrow loves to lie, And bid her thus her hopes intrust, And watch with patient, cheerful eye;

And bear the long, cold wintry night,
And bear her own degraded doom;
And wait till Heaven's reviving light,
Eternal spring! shall burst the gloom.
Mary Tighe.-Born 1773, Died 1810.

1123.-THE FARMER'S LIFE. The farmer's life displays in every part A moral lesson to the sensual heart. Though in the lap of plenty, thoughtful still, He looks beyond the present good or ill; Nor estimates alone one blessing's worth, From changeful seasons, or capricious earth! But views the future with the present hours, And looks for failures as he looks for showers; For casual as for certain want prepares, And round his yard the reeking haystack

rears;

Or clover, blossom'd lovely to the sight, His team's rich store through many a wintry night.

What though abundance round his dwelling spreads,

Though ever moist his self-improving meads
Supply his dairy with a copious flood,
And seem to promise unexhausted food;
That promise fails when buried deep in snow,
And vegetative juices cease to flow.

For this his plough turns up the destined lands,

Whence stormy winter draws its full demands;
For this the seed minutely small he sows,
Whence, sound and sweet, the hardy turnip
grows.

But how unlike to April's closing days!
High climbs the sun and darts his powerful

Till tried with gentler means, the dunce to please,

His head imbibes right reason by degrees;
As when from eve till morning's wakeful
hour,

Light constant rain evinces secret power,
And, ere the day resumes its wonted smiles,
Presents a cheerful easy task for Giles.
Down with a touch the mellow soil is laid,
And yon tall crop next claims his timely aid;
Thither well-pleased he hies, assured to find
Wild trackless haunts, and objects to his
mind.

Shut up from broad rank blades that droop below,

The nodding wheat-ear forms a graceful bow, With milky kernels starting full weigh'd down,

Ere yet the sun hath tinged its head with brown:

There thousands in a flock, for ever gay,
Loud chirping sparrows welcome in the day,
And from the mazes of the leafy thorn
Drop one by one upon the bending corn.
Giles with a pole assails their close retreats,
And round the grass-grown dewy border
beats,

On either side completely overspread,
Here branches bend, there corn o'erstoops his
head.

Green covert hail! for through the varying

year

No hours so sweet, no scene to him so dear.
Here Wisdom's placid eye delighted sees
His frequent intervals of lonely ease,
And with one ray his infant soul inspires,
Just kindling there her never-dying fires.
Whence solitude derives peculiar charms,
And heaven-directed thought his bosom warms.
Just where the parting bough's light shadows
play,

Scarce in the shade, nor in the scorching day,

Stretch'd on the turf he lies, a peopled bed, Where 'swarming insects creep around his head.

The small dust-colour'd beetle climbs with pain

O'er the smooth plantain leaf, a spacious plain!

Thence higher still, by countless steps convey'd,

He gains the summit of a shivering blade,
And flirts his filmy wings, and looks around,
Exulting in his distance from the ground.
The tender speckled moth here dancing seen,
The vaulting grasshopper of glossy green,
And all prolific Summer's sporting train,
Their little lives by various powers sustain.
But what can unassisted vision do?
What but recoil where most it would pursue;
His patient gaze but finish with a sigh,
When Music waking speaks the skylark nigh.
Just starting from the corn, he cheerily sings,
And trusts with conscious pride his downy
wings;

Still louder breathes, and in the face of day Mounts up, and calls on Giles to mark his

way.

Close to his eyes his hat he instant bends,
And forms a friendly telescope, that lends
Just aid enough to dull the glaring light,
And place the wandering bird before his sight,
That oft beneath a light cloud sweeps along,
Lost for awhile, yet pours the varied song ;
The eye still follows, and the cloud moves by,
Again he stretches up the clear blue sky;
His form, his motion, undistinguish'd quite,
Save when he wheels direct from shade to
light:

E'en then the songster a mere speck became,
Gliding like fancy's bubbles in a dream,
The gazer sees; but yielding to repose,
Unwittingly his jaded eyelids close.

Delicious sleep! From sleep who could forbear,

With guilt no more than Giles, and no more

care;

Peace o'er his slumbers waves her guardian

wing,

Nor Conscience once disturbs him with a sting;

He wakes refresh'd from every trivial pain,
And takes his pole, and brushes round again.
Its dark green hue, its sicklier tints all
fail,

And ripening harvest rustles in the gale.
A glorious sight, if glory dwells below,
Where heaven's munificence makes all things

show,

O'er every field and golden prospect found, That glads the ploughman's Sunday morning's round;

When on some eminence he takes his stand, To judge the smiling produce of the land. Here Vanity slinks back, her head to hide; What is there here to flatter human pride? The towering fabric, or the dome's loud roar, And steadfast columns may astonish more, Where the charm'd gazer long delighted stays, Yet traced but to the architect the praise; Whilst here the veriest clown that treads the sod,

Without one scruple gives the praise to God; And twofold joys possess his raptured mind, From gratitude and admiration join'd.

Here, 'midst the boldest triumphs of her worth,

Nature herself invites the reapers forth; Dares the keen sickle from its twelvemonth's

rest,

And gives that ardour which in every breast
From infancy to age alike appears,
When the first sheaf its plumy top uprears.
No rake takes here what Heaven to all
bestows-

Children of want, for you the bounty flows!
And every cottage from the plenteous store
Receives a burden nightly at its door.

Hark! where the sweeping scythe now rips along;

Each sturdy mower, emulous and strong,

Whose writhing form meridian heat defies,
Bends o'er his work, and every sinew tries;
Prostrates the waving treasure at his feet,
But spares the rising clover, short and sweet.
Come Health! come Jollity! light-footed

come;

Here hold your revels, and make this your home.

Each heart awaits and hails you as its own: Each moisten'd brow that scorns to wear a frown:

The unpeopled dwelling mourns its tenants stray'd:

E'en the domestic laughing dairymaid

Hies to the field the general toil to share.
Meanwhile the farmer quits his elbow-chair,
His cool brick floor, his pitcher, and his ease,
And braves the sultry beams, and gladly sees
His gates thrown open, and his team abroad,
The ready group attendant on his word
To turn the swath, the quivering load to rear,
Or ply the busy rake the land to clear.
Summer's light garb itself now cumbrous