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A second time did Matthew stop,
And fixing still his eye
Upon the eastern mountain-top
To me he made reply.-

• Yon cloud with that long púrple cleft

Brings fresh into my mind • A day like this which I have left • Full thirty years behind.

* And on that slope of springing corn
• The self same crimson hue
• Fell from the sky that April morn,
• The same which now I view!

• With rod and line my silent sport

I plied by Derwent's wave, • And coming to the church, stopp'd short • Beside my daughter's grave.

· Nine suinmers had she scarcely seen; • The pride of all the vale; . And then she sang !-she would have been • A very nightingale.

• Six feet in earth my Emma lay,
• And yet I lov'd her more,
• For so it seem'd, than till that day
. I e'er had lov'd before.
Vol. II.

I 2

And, turning from her grave, I met • Beside the church-yard Yew "A blooming Girl, whose hair was wet • With points of morning dew.

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THE FOUNTAIN,

A Conversation.

WE talk'd with open heart, and tongue
Affectionate and true,
A pair of Friends, though I was young,
And Matthew seventy-two!

We lay beneath a spreading oak,
Beside a mossy seat,
And from the turf a fountain broke,
And gurgled at our feet.

Now, Matthew, let us try to match
This water's pleasant tune
With some old Border-song, or Catch
That suits a summer's noon.

Or of the Church-clock and the Chimes
Sing, here beneath the shade,
That half-mad thing of witty rhymes
Which you last April made!

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On silence Matthew lay, and eyed
The spring beneath the tree;
And thus the dear old Man replied,
The grey-hair’d Man of glee.-

“ Down to the vale this water steers,
How merrily it goes !
'Twill murmur on a thousand years,
And flow as now it flows.

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My eyes are dim with childish tears, ,
My heart is idly stirr’d,

Vadon
For the same sound is in my ears,
Which in those days I heard.is
“ Thus fares it still in our decay:
And yet the wiser mind
Mourns less for what age takes away
Than what it leaves behind. mne si

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" With Nature never do they wage
A foolish strife; they see
A happy youth, and their old age
Is beautiful and free: bui

“ But we are press’d by heavy laws;
And often, glad no more, ?'
We wear a face of joy, because:
We have been glad of yore.

“ If there is one who need bemoan
His kindred laid in earth,
The household hearts that were his own,
It is the Man of Mirth.

My days, my friend, are almost gone, My life has been approv'd, And

me, but by none Am I enough belov’d!"

many love

Now both himself and me he wrongs,
The man who thus complains !
I live and sing my idle songs
Upon these happy plains.

And Matthew, for thy Children dead
I'll be a son to thee!
At this he grasp'd his hands, and said,
" Alas! that cannot be.”.

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