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I will not bow a tameless heart to fashion's iron rule, Nor welcome, with a smile, alike the gifted and the fool: No—let the throng pass coldly on; a treasure few may find, The charm of person doubly dear beneath the light of mind. N. E. WEEKLY REview. .

-

THE SWALLOW.

THE gorse is yellow on the heath,
The banks with speedwell flowers are gay,

The oaks are budding, and beneath

The hawthorn soon will bear the wreath,
The silver wreath of May.

The welcome guest of settled spring,
The swallow, too, is come at last;
Just at sunset, when thrushes sing,
I saw her dash with rapid wing,
And hail'd her as she pass'd.

Come, summer visitant, attach
To my reed roof your nest of clay,

And let my ear your music catch,

Low twittering underneath the thatch
At the gray dawn of day.

As fables tell, an Indian sage,
The Hindostani woods among,

Could, in his desert hermitage,

As if 'twere mark'd in written page,
Translate the wild bird's song.

I wish I did his power possess,
That I might learn, fleet bird, from thee,

What our vain systems only guess,

And know from what wide wilderness
You came across the sea.

I would a little while restrain
Your rapid wing, that I might hear

Whether on clouds, that bring the rain,

You sail'd above the western main,
The wind your charioteer.

In Afric does the sultry gale
Through spicy bower and palmy grove

Bear the repeated cuckoo's tale 7

Dwells there a time the wand'ring quail,
Or the itinerant dove 2

Were you in Asia? O, relate
If there your fabled sister's woes

She seem'd in sorrow to narrate;

Or sings she but to celebrate
Her nuptials with the rose.

I would inquire how, journeying long
The vast and pathless ocean oer,
You ply again those pinions strong,
And come to build anew among
* The scenes you left before;

But if, as colder breezes blow,
Prophetic of the warning year,

You hide, though none know when or how,

In the cliff's excavated brow,
And linger torpid here;

Thus to life, what favouring dream
Bids you to happier hours awake,

And tells that, dancing in the beam,

The light gnat hovers o'er the stream,
The May-fly on the lake.

Or if, by instinct taught to know,
Approaching dearth of insect food,

To }. and willowy aits you go,

And, crowding on the pliant bough,
Sink in the dimpling flood. -

How learn ye, while the cold waves boom
Your deep and oozy couch above,

The time when flowers of promise bloom,

And call you from your transient tomb,
To light and life and love?

Alas! how little can be known
Her sacred veil where Nature draws."
Let baffled Science humbly own
Her mysteries, understood alone
By Him who gives her laws.
CHARLOTTE SMITH,

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IF aught of oaten stop, or pastoral song,

May hope, Opensive Eve, to soothe thine ear
Like thy own modest springs,
Thy springs, and dying gales;

O nymph reserved, while now the bright-hair'd Sun

Sits on yon western tent, whose cloudy skirts,
With brede ethereal wove,
O'erhang his wavy bed:

Now air is hush'd, save where the weak-eyed bat,

With short shrill shriek flits by on leather wing,
Or where the beetle winds
His small but sullen horn,

As oft he rises 'midst the twilight path,

Against the pilgrim borne in heedless hum:
Now teach me, maid composed,
To breathe some softened strain,

Whose numbers stealing through thy dark'ningvale,
y not unseemly with its stillness suit; *
As musing slow, I hail
Thy genial loved return!

For when o folding star arising shows
Hol. circlet, at his ...i.
e fragrant hours and elves
Who slept in buds the day;
And o a nymph who wreathes her brows with
Seoige

ge,
And sheds the freshening dew, and, lovelier still,
The pensive pleasures sweet,
Prepare thy o car.

Then let me rove some wild and heathy scene,

Or find some ruin 'midst its dreary dells,
Whose walls more awful nod
By thy religious gleams.

Or if chill blustering winds, or driving rain,

Prevent my willing feet, be mine the hut,
That from the mountain's side
Views wild and swelling floods,

And hamlets brown, and dim-discover'd spires,

And hears their simple bell, and marks o'er all
Thy dewy fingers drew
The gradual dusky veil.

While Spring shall pour his showers, as oft he wont,

And bathe thy breathing tresses, meekest Eve!
While Summer loves to sport
Beneath thy lingering light;

While sallow Autumn fills thy lap with leaves;
Or Winter, yelling through the troublous air,
Affrights thy shrinking train,
And rudely rends thy robes;
So long, regardful of thy quiet rule, ...
Shall fancy, Friendship, Science, smiling Peace.

Thy gentle influence own...,
And love thy favourite name

7

CoLLINs.

EVENING PRAYER AT A GIRL'S SCHOOL.

Hush : 'tis a holy hour; the quiet room
Seems like a temple, while yon soft lamp sheds
A faint and starry radiance, through the gloom
And o sweet stillness, down on bright young
heads,
With all their clustering locks, untouch'd by care,
And bow'd, as flowers are bow’d with night, in
prayer. -

Gaze on-'tis lovely! childhood's lip and cheek
Mantling beneath its earnest brow of thought;
Gaze—yet what seest thou in those fair, and meek,
And fragile things, as but for sunshine wrought?
Thou seest what grief must nurture for the sky,
What death must fashion for eternity. *
Oh! joyous creatures, that will sink to rest,
Lightly, when those pure orisons are done,
As birds, with slumber's honey-dew oppress'd,
'Midst the dim folded leaves, at set of sun,
Lift up your hearts! though yet no sorrow lies
Dark in the summer-heaven of those clear eyes;–

Though fresh within your breasts the untroubled
springs
Of hope make melody where'er ye tread;
And o'er your sleep bright shadows, from the wings
Of spirits visiting but youth, be spread;
Yet in those flute-like voices, mingling low,
Is woman's tenderness—how soon her woe!

Her lot is on you—silent tears to weep,
And patient smiles to wear through suffering's hour,
And sumless riches, from Affection's deep,
To pour on broken reeds—a wasted shower!
And to pmake idols, and to find them clay,
And to bewail that worship—therefore pray.

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