Where Saturn shows his distant beam,
God of the golden days of yore;
Or where the countless stars, that seem
Thick as the sand upon the shore,
From their eternal seats a stream
Of glory and of radiance pour :

Who that hath seen these splendours roll,
And gazed on this majestic scene,
But sigh'd to 'scape this world's control,
Spurning its pleasures poor and mean,
To burst the bonds that bind the soul,
And pass the gulf that yawn'd between?

ANON.

HUMAN LIFE.

THE lark has sung his carol in the sky;
The bees have humm'd their noontide lullaby;
Still in the vale the village bells ring round,
Still in Llewellyn-hall the jests resound:
For now the caudle-cup is circling there,

Now, glad at heart, the gossips breathe their prayer,
And, crowding, stop the cradle to admire
The babe, the sleeping image of his Sire.

A few short years, and then these sounds shall hail
The day again, and gladness fill the vale :
So soon the child a youth, the youth a man,
Eager to run the race his fathers ran.

Then the huge ox shall yield the broad sirloin;
The ale, new brew'd, in floods of amber shine;
And basking in the chimney's ample blaze,
'Mid many a tale told of his boyish days,
The nurse shall cry, of all her ills beguiled,
""Twas on these knees he sat so oft, and smiled."

And soon again shall music swell the breeze; Soon, issuing forth, shall glitter through the trees

Vestures of nuptial white; and hymns be sung, And violets scatter'd round; and old and young, In every cottage-porch, with garlands green, Stand still to gaze; and, gazing, bless the scene; While, her dark eyes declining, by his side Moves in her virgin-veil the gentle bride.

And once, alas! not in a distant hour,

Another voice shall come from yonder tower: When in dim chambers long black weeds are seen, And weepings heard where only joy had been; When by his children borne, and from his door Slowly departing, to return no more,

He rests in holy earth with them that went before. And such is human life; so gliding on,

It glimmers like a meteor, and is gone!

ROGERS

TO TWILIGHT.

FRIEND of the pensive wand'rer, Twilight, hail! I joy to see thee roll thy sea of clouds

Athwart the crimson throne

Of the departing sun.

For then, what various objects, dimly seen,
By wonder-working Fancy touch'd, acquire
An awe-inspiring air,

And urge Fear's hurried step.

Lo! thine attendant, the low-sailing bat,
Flaps his brown wing, begins his circling flight;
E'en Midnight's tuneful bird,

To hail thee, pours her strain.

I love thy simple garb: no brilliant stars
Adorn thy dusky vest, unlike to that
Worn by thy sister Night,

Save when she reigns in storms.

Nor canst thou boast the many-tinted robe
Worn by thy beauteous herald, dewy Eve,

Thine is a veil of gray,

Meet for the cloister'd maid.

Thou nurse of saddening thoughts, prolong thy stay, Let me adore thee still! Eve's glowing grace,

Night's fire-embroider'd vest,

Alike displease my eye.

For I am sorrow's child, and thy cold showers,
Thy mist-encircled forms, thy doubtful shapes,
Wake a responsive chord
Within my troubled soul.

For, oh! to me futurity appears

Wrapt in a chilling veil of glooms and mists,
Nor seems one tint or star

To deck her furrow'd brow;

But slowly cross her path, imperfect shapes
Of danger-sorrow, frenzy, and despair,
Force their uneasy way,

And pale my cold, sunk cheek.

But see-the unwelcome Moon unveils her head, (Those hours are gone in which I hail'd her beams) Distinctness spreads around,

And mimic day appears.

I loathe the cheerful sight, as still my fate,
O Twilight! bears a hue resembling thine;
And, envy-struck, I shun

The scene I cannot share.

I'll to my couch, yet not, alas! to rest;
By artificial gloom I'll suit my soul;
And e'en from pity hide

My dim and sleepless eyes.

MRS. OPIE.

TO A LADY.

LADY, too fair! the sleepless mariner,

With anxious heart, scanneth the midnight sky, On one bright star alone, though hosts shine near, Fixing his eye,

For, though the sea in cloud-high waves may rise, Though the storm rage, and felon winds rebel, He knows that sweet star beameth in the skies

Unchangeable.

Alas! for him who life's rough sea would try,
Fixing his gaze on meteors blazing far,
Making the changeful beam of beauty's eye
His polar star.

The seaman trusts, indeed, nor trusts in vain,
For constant are the bright-eyed host of heaven;
While the swift changing of the fickle main
To beauty's given.

But thou! who in the pride of beauty brave,
Shinest brighter than the fairest star on high,
Take not thy pattern from the fickle wave,
But from the sky.

ANON.

SONG FOR MAY-DAY.

IT is May! it is May!

And all earth is gay,

For at last old Winter is quite away;
He linger'd a while in his cloak of snow,
To see the delicate primrose blow;

He saw it, and made no longer stay-
And now it is May! it is May!

It is May! it is May!
And we bless the day

When we first delightfully so can say.
April had beams amid her showers,

Yet bare were her gardens, and cold her bowers; And her frown would blight, and her smile betray

But now it is May! it is May!

It is May! it is May!

And the slenderest spray

Holds up a few leaves to the ripening ray;
And the birds sing fearlessly out on high,
For there is not a cloud in the calm blue sky;
And the villagers join their roundelay-
For, O! it is May! it is May!

It is May! it is May!

And the flowers obey

The beams which alone are more bright than they: Up they spring at the touch of the sun,

And opening their sweet eyes, one by one,

In a language of beauty they seem all to say-
And of perfumes-"Tis May! it is May!

It is May! it is May!

And delights, that lay

Chill'd and enchain'd beneath Winter's sway,
Break forth again o'er the kindling soul,
And soften and soothe it, and bless it whole:
Oh! thoughts more tender than words convey,
Sigh out-It is May! it is May!

ANON.

THE FALLEN STAR.

A STAR is gone! a star is gone!
There is a blank in heaven!
One of the cherub-choir has done
His airy course this even.