THE WINTER BEING OVER.

The winter being over,
In order comes the spring,
Which doth green herbs discover,
And cause the birds to sing.
The night also expired,
Then comes the morning bright,
Which is so much desired
By all that love the light.

This may learn

Them that mourn,
To put their grief to flight:
The spring succeedeth winter,
And day must follow night.

But those that are contented
However things do fall,
Much anguish is prevented,
And they soon freed from all.
They finish all their labors
With much felicity;
Their joy in trouble savors
Of perfect piety.

Cheerfulness

Doth express
A settled pious mind,
Which is not prone to grudging,
From murmuring refined.

ANX COLLINS.

He therefore that sustaineth
Affliction or distress
Which cvery member paineth,
And findeth no release, -
Let such therefore despair not,
But on firm hope depend,
Whose griefs immortal are not,
And therefore must have end.

They that faint

With complaint
Therefore are to blame;
They add to their afflictions,
And amplify the same.

SPRING.
WRITTEN WHILE A PRISONER IN ENGLAND.
Tue Time hath laid his mantle by

Of wind and rain and icy chill,
And dons a rich embroidery

Of sunlight poured on lake and hill. No beast or bird in earth or sky,

Whose voice doth not with gladness thrill; For Time hath laid his mantle by

Of wind and rain and icy chill.
River and fountain, brook and rill,
Bespangled o'er with livery gay
Of silver droplets, wind their way.
All in their new apparel vie,
For Time hath laid his mantle by.

CHARLES OF ORLEANS.

For if they could with patience
Awhile possess the mind,
By inward consolations
They might refreshing find,
To sweeten all their crosses
That little time they 'dure ;
So might they gain by losses,
And sharp would sweet procure.

But if the mind

Be inclined
To unquietness,
That only may be called
The worst of all distress.

He that is melancholy,
Detesting all delight,
His wits by sottish folly
Are ruinated quite.
Sad discontent and murmurs
To him are incident ;
Were he possessed of honors,
He could not be content.

Sparks of joy

Fly away ;
Floods of care arise ;
And all delightful motion
In the conception dies.

RETURN OF SPRING.

[Translation.] God shield ye, heralds of the spring, Ye faithful swallows, fleet of wing,

Houps, cuckoos, nightingales, Turtles, and every wilder bird, That make your hundred chirpings heard

Through the green woods and dales. God shield ye, Easter daisies all, Fair roses, buds, and blossoms small,

And he whom esst the gore Of Ajax and Narciss did print, Ye wild thyme, anise, balm, and mint,

I welcome ye once more. God shield ye, bright embroidered train Of butterflies, that on the plain

Of each sweet herblet sip; And ye, new swarms of bees, that go Where the pink flowers and yellow grow

To kiss them with your lip.

Worship him in the wildwood ;
Worship him amidst the flowers ;
In the greenwood bowers ;
Pluck the buttercups, and raise
Your voices in his praise !

Eager to taste the honeyed spring And float amid the liquid noon : Some lightly o'er the current skim, Some show their gayly gilded trim

Quick-glancing to the sun.

EDWARD YOUL.

SPRING.

To Contemplation's sober eye

Such is the race of man ; And they that creep, and they that fly

Shall end where they began. Alike the busy and the gay But flutter through life's little day, In Fortune's varying colors drest : Brushed by the hand of rough mischance Or chilled by age, their airy dance

They leave, in dust ta rest.

ÁGAIN the violet of our early days
Drinks beauteous azure from the golden sun,
And kindles into fragrance at his blaze;
The streams, rejoiced that winter's work is done,
Talk of to-morrow's cowslips, as they run.
Wild apple, thou art blushing into bloom !
Thy leaves are coming, snowy-blossomed thorn!
Wake, buried lily ! spirit, quit thy tomb !
And thou shade-loving hyacinth, be born !
Then, haste, sweet rose ! sweet woodbine, hymn

the morn,
Whose dewdrops shall illume with pearly light
Each grassy blade that thick embattled stands
From sea to sea, while daisies infinite
Uplift in praise their little glowing hands,
O'er every hill that under heaven expands.

Methinks I hear in accents low

The sportive kind reply: Poor moralist ! and what art thou !

A solitary fly! Thy joys no glittering female meets, No hive hast thou of hoarded sweets, No painted plumage to display ; On hasty wings thy youth is flown ; Thy sun is set, thy spring is gone,

We frolic while 't is May.

EBENEZER ELLIOTT.

SPRING.

Found, it seems, the halcyon morn
To hoar February born;
Bending from heaven, in azure mirth,
It kissed the forehead of the earth,
And smiled upon the silent sea,
And bade the frozen streams be free,
And waked to music all their fountains,
And breathed upon the frozen mountains,
And like a prophetess of May
Strewed flowers upon the barren way,
Making the wintry world appear
Like one on whom thou smilest, dear.

BEHOLD the young, the rosy Spring
Gives to the breeze her scented wing,
While virgin graces, warm with May,
Fling roses o'er her dewy way.
The murmuring billows of the deep
Have languished into silent sleep;
And mark! the flitting sea-birds lave
Their plumes in the reflecting wave; .
While cranes from hoary winter fly
To flutter in a kinder sky.
Now the genial star of day
Dissolves the murky clouds away,
And cultured field and winding stream
Are freshly glittering in his beam.

Now the earth prolific swells
With leafy buds and flowery bells;
Gemming shoots the olive twine ;
Clusters bright festoon the vine;
All, along the branches creeping,
Through the velvet foliage peeping,
Little infant fruits we see
Nursing into luxury.

'ANACREON (Greek). Translation

of THOMAS MOORE.

Away, away, from men and towns,
To the wild wood and the downs, –
To the silent wilderness
Where the soul need not repress
Its music, lest it should not find
An echo in another's mind,
While the touch of nature's art
Harmonizes heart to heart.

SPRING, THE SWEET SPRING.

SPRING, the sweet spring, is the year's pleasant

king; Then bloomseach thing, then maids dance in a ring, Cold doth not sting, the pretty birds do sing,

Cuckoo, jug-jug, pu-we, to-witta-woo !

Radiant Sister of the Day,
Awake! arise ! and come away!
To the wild woods and the plains,
To the pools where winter rains
Image all their roof of leaves,
Where the pine its garland weaves
Of sapless green, and ivy dun,
Round stems that never kiss the sun,
Where the lawns and pastures be,
And the sand-hills of the sea,
Where the melting hoar-frost wets
The daisy-star that never sets,
And wind-flowers and violets
Which yet join not scent to hue
Crown the pale year weak and new;
When the night is left behind
In the deep east, dim and blind,
And the blue noon is over us,
And the multitudinous
Billows murmur at our feet,
Where the earth and ocean meet,
And all things seem only one
In the universal sun.

The palm and may make country houses gay, Lambs frisk and play, the shepherds pipe all day, And we hear aye birds tune this merry lay,

Cuckoo, jug-jug, pu-we, to-witta-woo !

The fields breathe sweet, the daisies kiss our feet,
Young lovers meet, old wives a sunning sit,
In every street these tunes our ears do greet,
Cuckoo, jug-jug, pu-we, to-witta-woo !
Spring! the sweet spring!

T. NASH.

PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY.

THE INVITATION,

Best and brightest, come away,
Fairer far than this fair day,
Which, like thee, to those in sorrow
Comes to bid a sweet good-morrow
To the rough year just awake
In its cradle on the brake.
The brightest hour of unborn spring
Through the winter wandering,

TO AURELIA. SEE, the flowery spring is blown, Let us leave the smoky town; From the mall, and from the ring, Every one has taken wing ; Chloe, Strephon, Corydon, To the meadows all are gone. What is left you worth your stay? Come, Aurelia, come away.