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my heart.

Upon Helvellyn's side:

He loved the pretty Barbara died,
And thus he makes his moan:

There is a change-and I am poor;
Three years had Barbara in her grave been Your Love hath been, nor long ago,


A Fountain at my fond Heart's door,
When thus his moan he made :

Whose only business was to flow;
And flow it did; not taking heed

Of its own bounty, or my need. “Oh move, thou Cottage, from behind that

oak! Or let the aged tree uprooted lie,

What happy moments did I count! That in some other way yon smoke

Bless'd was I then all bliss above!
May mount into the sky!

Now, for this consecrated Fount
The clouds pass on; they from the heavens of murmuring, sparkling, living love,


What have I ? shall I dare to tell ?
I look—the sky is empty space ;

A comfortles and hidden I'ell.
I know not what I trace;
But, when I cease to look, my hand is on

A Well of love--it may be deep-
I trust it is, and never dry:

What matter? if the waters sleep
O! what a weight is in these shades! Ye In silence and obscurity.


---Such change, and at the very door When will that dying murmur be supprest? Of my fond Heart, hath made me poor. Your sound my heart of peace bereaves, It robs my heart of rest. Thou Thrush, that singest loud-and loud

and free, Into yon row of willows flit,

Upon that alder sit;
Or sing another song, or choose another tree. When Ruth was left half desolate

Her father took another mate;

And Ruth, not seven years old, Roll back, sweet Rill! back to thy moun- A slighted child, at her own will

tain-bounds, Went wandering over dale and hill, And there for ever be thy waters chained! In thoughtless freedom bold. For thou dost haunt the air with sounds That cannot be sustained; If still beneath that pine-tree's ragged bough And from that oaten pipe could draw

And she had made a pipe of straw,
Headlong yon waterfall must come,

All sounds of wind and floods;
Oh let it then be dumb !--
Be any thing, sweet Rill, but that which As if she from her birth had been

Had built a bower upon the green,
thou art now.

An infant of the woods.

Thou Eglantine, whose arch so proudly Beneath her father's roof, alone

towers, (Even like a rainbow spanning half the vale) Herself her own delight:

She seemed to live; her thoughts her own; Thon one fair shrub, oh! shed thy flowers, Pleased with herself, nor sad nor gay, And stir not in the gale.

She passed her time; and in this way For thus to see thee nodding in the air,To see thy arch thus stretch and bend,

Grew up to woman's height. Thus rise and thus descend, Disturbs me, till the sight is more than 1 There came a Youth from Georgia's shore

can bear.”

A military casque he wore
With splendid feathers drest;

He brought them from the Cherokees;
The man who makes this feverish complaint The feathers nodded in the breeze,
Is one of giant stature, who could dance And made a gallant crest.
Equipped from head to foot in iron mail.
Ah gentle Love! If ever thought was thine From Indian blood you deem him sprung:
To store op kindred hours for me, thy face Ah no! he spake the English tongue
Turn from me, gentle Love! nor let me wall And bore a Soldier's name;
Within the sound of Emma's voice, or know And, when America was free
Such happiness as I have hnowu to-day. From battle and from jeopardy,

He 'cross the ocean came.

With hues of Genius on his cheek | Around the heart such tender ties, In finest tones the Youth could speak. That our own children to our eyes - While he was yet a boy

Are dearer than the sun. The moon, the glory of the sun, And streams that murmur as they run, Sweet Ruth! and could you go with me Had been his dearest joy.

My helpmate in the woods to be,

Our shed at night to rear; He was a lovely Youth! I guess

Or run, my own adopted Bride, The panther in the wilderness

A sylvan Huntress at my side,
Was not so fair as he;

And drive the flying deer.
And, when he chose to sport and play
No dolphin ever was so gay

Beloved Ruth !No more he said.
Upon the tropic sea.

Sweet Ruth alone at midnight shed

A solitary tear:
Among the Indians he had fought; She thought again- and did agree
And with him many- tales he brought With bim to sail across the sea,
Of pleasure and of fear;

And drive the flying deer.
Such tales as, told to any Maid
By such a Youth, in the green shade, And now, as fitting is and right,
Were perilous to hear.

We in the Church our faith will plight,

A Husband and a Wife. He told of Girls, a happy rout!

Even so they did; and I may say Who quit their fold with dance and shout, That to sweet Ruth that happy day Their pleasant Indian Town,

Was more than human life.
To gather strawberries all day long ;
Returning with a choral song

Through dreain and vision did she sink, When day-light is gone down.

Delighted all the while to think

That, on those lonesome floods,
He spake of plants divine and strange And green savannahs, she should share
That every hour their blossoms change, His board with lawful joy, and bear
Ten thousand lovely hues !

His name in the wild woode.
With budding, fading, faded flowers
They stand the wonder of the bowers But, as you have before been told,
From morn to evening-dews.

This Stripling, sportive, gay, and bold,

And with his dancing crest He told of the Magnolia, spread

So beautiful, through savage lands High as a cloud, high over head! Had roamed about with vagrant bands The Cypress and her spire;

Of Indians in the West. Of flowers that with one scarlet gleam Cover a hundred leagues, and seem The wind, the tempest roaring high, To set the hills on fire.

The tumult of a tropic sky,

Might well be dangerous food The Youth of green savannahs spake, For him, a Youth to whom was given And many an endless, endless lake, So much of earth-80 much of heaven, With all its fairy crowds

And such impetuous blood. or islands, that together lie As quietly as spots of sky

Whatever in those Climes he found Among the evening-clouds.

Irregular in sight or sound

Did to his mind impart
And then he said: How sweet it were A kindred impulse, seemed allied
A fisher or a hunter there,

To his own powers, and justified
A gardener in the shade,

The workings of his heart. Still wandering with an easy mind To build a household-fire, and find Nor less to feed voluptuous thought A home in every glade!

The beauteous forms of nature wrought,

Fair trees and lovely flowers;
What days and what sweet years! Ah me! The breezes their own languor lent;
Our life were life indeed, with thee The stars had feelings, which they sent
So passed in quiet bliss !

Into those gorgeons bowers.
And all the while, said he, to know
That we were in a world of woe,

Yet, in his worst pursuits, I ween
On such an earth as this!

That sometimes there did intervene

Pure hopes of high intent; And then he sometimes interwove

For passions linked to forms so fair Dear thoughts about a father's love, And stately needs must have their shart For there, said he, are spun

Of noble sentiment.

But ill he lived, much evil saw
With men to whom no better law
Nor better life was known;
Deliberately and undeceived
Those wild men's vices he received,
And gave them back his own.

The engines of her pain, the tools
That shaped her sorrow, rocks and pools,
And airs that gently stir
The vernal leaves, she loved them still,
Nor ever taxed them with the ill
Which had been done to her.

His genius and his moral frame
Were thus impaired, and he became
The slave of low desires :
A Man who without self-control
Would seek what the degraded soul
Unworthily admires.

A barn her winter-bed supplies;
But till the warmth of summer-skies
And summer-days is gone,
(And all do in this tale agree)
She sleeps beneath the greenwood-tree,
And other home hath none.

And yet he with no feigned delight An innocent life, yet far astray!
Had wooed the maiden, day and night And Ruth will, long before her day,
Had loved her, night and morn:

Be broken down and old.
What could he less than love a Maid Sore aches she needs must have! but less
Whose heart with so much nature played? Of mind, than body's wretchedness,
So kind and so forlorn!

From damp,, and rain, and cold.

But now the pleasant dream was gone;
No hope, no wish remained, not one,
They stirred him now no more;
New objecte did new pleasure give,
And once again he wished to live
As lawless as before.

If she is pressed by want of food,
She from her dwelling in the wood
Repairs to a road-side;
And there she begs at one steep place,
Where up and down with easy pace
The horsemen-travellers ride.

Meanwhile, as thus with him it fared,
They for the voyage were prepared,

And went to the sea-shore;
* But, when they thither came, the Youth
Deserted his poor Bride, and Ruth
Could never find him more.

That oaten Pipe of hers is mute,
Or thrown away ; but with a flute
Her loneliness she chcers :
This flute, made of a hemlock-stalk,
At evening in his homeward-walk
The Quantock Woodman hears.

God help thee, Ruth !- Such pains she had I, too, have passed her on the hills
That she in half a year was mad

Setting her little water-mills
And in a prison housed;

By spouts and fountains wild
And there, exulting in her wrongs, Such small machinery as she turned
Among the music of her songs

Ere she had wept, ere she had mourned, She fearfully caroused.

A young and happy Child !

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Seven years, alas, to have received For, surely, then I should have sight
No tidings of an only child;

of Him I wait for day and night, To have

despair'd, and have believ’d, With love and longings infinite.
And be for evermore beguilid;
Sometimes with thoughts of very bliss !
I catch at them, and then I miss;

My apprehensions come in crowds;
Was ever darkness like to this?

I dread the rustling of the grass ;
The very shadows of the clouds

Have power to shake me as they pass:
He was among the prime in worth, I question things, ard do not find
An object beauteous to behold;

One that will answer to my mind;
Well botn, well bred; I sent him forth And all the world appears unkind.
Ingenuous, innocent, and bold :
If things ensued that wanted grace,
As hath been said, they were not base;

Beyond participation lie
And never blush was on my face.

My troubles, and beyond relief:
If any chance to heave a sigh

They pity me, and not my grief.
Ah! little doth the Young One dream, Then come to mne, my Son, or send
When full of play and childish cares,

Some tidings that my woes may end;
What power hath even his wildest scream, I have no other earthly friend.
Heard by his Mother unawares!
He knows it not, he cannot guess :
Years to a Mother bring distress;
But do not make her love the less.


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Forth sprang the impassion’d Queen her “This visage tells thee that my doom is past:

Lord to clasp; Know, virtue were not virtue if the joys Again that consummation she essayed; Of sense were able to return as fast But unsubstantial Form eludes her grasp And surely as they vanish.- Earth destroys As often as that eager grasp was made. Those raptures duly-Erebus disdains : The Phantom parts--but parts to re-unite, Calm pleasures there abide--majestic pains. And re-assume his place before her sight.

Be taught, oh faithful Consort, to control “Protesilaus, lo! thy guide is gone!

Rebellious passion : for the Gods approve Confirm, I pray, the Vision with thy voice: The depth and not the tumult of the soul; This is our palace, yonder is thy throne;

The fervor-not the impotence of love. Speak, and the floor thou tread'st on will Thy transports moderate; and meekly mourn


When I depart, for brief is my sojourn—" Not to appal me have the Gods bestowed This precious boon,—and blest a sad abode.”

“Ah, wherefore ? Did not Hercules by force

Wrest from the guardian Monster of the “Great Jove, Laodamia, doth not leave

tomb His gifts imperfect :-Spectre thongh I be, Alcestis, a reanimated Corse, I am not sent to scare thee or deceive,

Given back to dwell on earth in beauty's But in reward of thy fidelity.

bloom? And something also did my worth obtain; Medea's spells dispersed the weight of years, For fearless virtue bringeth boundless gain. And Æson stood a Youth ’mid youthful


Thon knowst, the Delphic oracle foretold The Gods to us are merciful-and they That the first Greek who touched the Trojan Yet further may relent: for mightier far


Than strength of nerve and sinew,or the sway Should die; but me the threat did not with- of magic potent over sun and star


Is Love, though oft to agony distrest, A generous cause a Victim did demand ; And though his favourite seat be feeble And forth I leapt upon the sandy plain;

Woman's breast. A self-devoted Chief-by Hector slain.”

But if thon go'st, I follow— " Peace! he said “Supreme of Heroes-bravest, noblest, best! She looked upon him and was calmed and Thy matchless courage I bewail no more,

cheered; That' then, when tens of thousands were The ghastly colour from his lips had fled;


In his deportment, shape, and mien, apBy doubt, propelled thee to the fatal shore :

peared Thou foundst, – and I forgive thee - here Elysian beauty-melancholy grace

thou art

Brought from a pensive though a happy A nobler counsellor than my poor heart.


He spake of love, such love as Spirits feel But thou, though capable of sternest deed, In worlds whose course is equable and pure; Wert kind as resolute, and good as brave; No fears to beat away-no strife to heal And He, whose power restores thee, hath The past unsighed for, and the future sure;


Spake, as a witness, of a second birth That thou shouldst cheat the malice of the For all that is most perfect upon earth :

grave; Redundant are thy locks, thy lips as fair As when their breath enriched Thessalian air. Of all that is most beauteous-imaged there

In happier beauty; more pellucid streams,

An ampler ether, a diviner air, No Spectre greets me,-no vain Shadow this: And fields invested with purpureal gleams; Come, blooming Hero, place thee by my Climes which the Sun', who sheds the side!

brightest day Give, on this well-known couch, one nuptial Earth knows, is all unworthy to survey.

kiss To me, this day, a second time thy bride!” Jove frowned in heaven; the conscious Parcæ Yet there the Soul shall enter which hath threw

earned Upon those roseate lips a Stygian hue. That privilege by virtue.-111—said he-

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