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To behold the wandering moon,
Oft, on a plat of rising ground,
Sometime let gorgeous Tragedy
But, 0 sad virgin, that thy power
Thus, Night, oft see me in thy pale career,
Or ushered with a shower still,
And when the sun begins to fling
But let my due feet never fail
And may at last my weary age
These pleasures, Melancholy, give,
In this monody the author bewails a learned friend, unfortunately drowned in his passage from Chester, on the Irish seas, 1637, and by occasion foretells the ruin of our corrupted clergy, then in their height.
Yer once more, () ye laurels, and once more,
And with forced fingers rude
Alas! what boots it with incessant care Shatter your leaves before the mellowing year. To tend the homely, slighted shepherd's trade, Bitter constraint, and sad occasion dear,
And strictly meditate the thankless muse? Compels me to disturb your season due :
Were it not better done, as others use, For Lycidas is dead, dead ere his prime,
To sport with Amaryllis in the shade, Young Lycidas, and hath not left his peer :
Or with the tangles of Neræa's hair? Who would not sing for Lycidas ? he knew
Fame is the spur that the clear spirit doth raise Himself to sing, and build the lofty rhyme.
That last infirmity of noble minds He must not float upon his watery bier
To scorn delights and live laborious days ; l'nwept, and welter to the parching wind,
But the fair guerdon when we hope to find, Without the meed of some melodious tear.
And think to burst out into sudden blaze, Begin, then, Sisters of the sacred well,
Comes the blind Fury with the abhorred shears, That from beneath the seat of Jove doth spring, And slits the thin-spun life. But not the praise, Begin, and somewhat loudly sweep the string. Phoebus replied, and touched my trembling ears ; llence with denial vain, and coy excuse,
Fame is no plant that grows on mortal soil, So may some gentle muse
Nor in the glist'ring foil With lucky words favor my destined urn,
Set off to the world, nor in broad rumor lies, And, as she passes, turn,
But lives and spreads aloft by those pure eyes, And bid fair peace be to my sable shroud.
And perfect witness of all-judging Jove;
As He pronounces lastly on each deed,
O fountain Arethuse ! and thou honored flood, Under the opening eyelids of the morn,
Smooth-sliding Mincius, crowned with vocal reeds ! We drove a-field, and both together heard
That strain I heard was of a higher mood : What time the gray-fly winds her sultry horn, But now my oat proceeds, Battening our flocks with the fresh dews of night, And listens to the herald of the sea Oft till the star that rose at evening bright (wheel. That came in Neptune's plea : Towards heaven's descent had sloped his westering He asked the waves, and asked the felon winds, Meanwhile the rural ditties were not mute ;
What hard mishap hath doomed this gentle swain? Tempered to the oaten flute,
And questioned every gust of rugged winds
And sage Hippotades their answer brings,
The air was calm, and on the level brine
Built in the eclipse, and rigged with curses dark, The willows and the hazel copses green
That sunk so low that sacred head of thine. Shall now no more be seen,
Next Camus, reverend sire ! went footing slow, Fanning their joyous leaves to thy soft lays. His mantle hairy, and his bonnet sedge, As killing as the canker to the rose,
Inwrought with figures dim, and on the edge Or taint-worn to the weanling herds that graze, Like to that sanguine flower, inscribed with woe. Or frost to flowers, that their gay wardrobe wear, Ah! who hath reft. quoth he, my dearest pledge ? When first the white thorn blows :
Last came, and last did go, Such, Lycidas, thy loss to shepherd's ear. [deep The pilot of the Galilean lake ;
Where were ye, Nymphs, when the remorseless Two massy keys he bore of metals twain Closed o'er the head of your loved Lycidas?
(The golden opes, the iron shuts amain); For neither were ye playing on the steep,
He shook his mitred locks, and stern bespake, Where your old bards, the famous Druids, lie, How well could I have spared for thee, young swain, Nor on the shaggy top of Mona high,
Enow of such as for their bellies' sake
of other care they little reckoning make,
Blind mouths! that scarce themselves know how to Whom universal nature did lament,
A sheep-hook, or have learned aught else the least When by the rout that made the hideous roar That to the faithful herdsman's art belongs ! His gory visage down the stream was sent,
What recks it them ? what need they? they are sped; Down the swift Hebrus to the Lesbian shore ? And when they list, their lean and flashy songs
Grate on their scrannel pipes of wretched straw ;
Return, Alpheus, the dread voice is past
Or whether thou, to our moist vows denied,
Weep no more, woful shepherds, weep no more,
Thus sang the uncouth swain to the oaks and rills, While the still Morn went out with sandals gray, He touched the tender stops of various quills, With eager thought warbling his Doric lay ; And now the sun had stretched out all the hills, And now was dropped into the western bay ; At last he rose, and twitched his mantle blue : To-morrow to fresh woods and pastures new.
Rhymed Lessons for July.
EMERSON'S “ WOOD NOTES.”
Where darkness found him he lay glad at night ; There the red morning touched him with its light. Three moons his great heart him a hermit made, So long he roved at will the boundless shade.
The timid it concerns to ask their way, And fear what foe in caves and swamps can stray ; To make no step until the event is known, And ills to come, as evils past, bemoan. Not so the wise ; no coward watch he keeps, To spy what danger on his pathway creeps. Go where he will, the wise man is at home His hearth the earth, his hall the azure dome; Where his clear spirit leads him, there his road, By God's own light illumined and foreshowed.
And such I knew a forest seer,
between the rocks,
Seldom seen by wistful eyes,
To please and win this pilgrim wise.
He heard the woodcock's evening hymn ;
And the sky-hawk did wait for him.
And guessed within the thicket's gloom,
And at his bidding seemed to come. [gang,
VAUGHAN'S “EARLY PRAYER.” WHEN first thine eyes unveil, give thy soul leave To do the like ; our bodies but forerun The spirit's duty : true hearts spread and heave Unto their God, as flowers do to the sun : [keep Give Him thy first thoughts, then, - so shalt thou
Him company all day, and in Him sleep. Yet never sleep the sun up; prayer should Dawn with the day : there are set awful hours 'Twixt Heaven and us ; the manna was not good After sunrising ; for day sullies flowers : Rise to prevent the sun ; sleep doth sins glut, And heaven's gate opens when the world's is shut.
Walk with thy fellow-creatures ; note the hush And whisperings amongst them. Not a spring Or leaf but hath his morning hymn ; each bush And oak doth know I AM. Canst thou not sing! O leave thy cares and follies! Go this way,
And thou art sure to prosper all the day. Serve God before the world ; let Him not go Until thou hast a blessing ; then resign The whole unto Him, and remember who Prevailed by wrestling, ere the sun did shine ; Pour oil upon the stones, weep for thy sin, Then journey on, and have an eye to heaven. (youth,
Mornings are mysteries ; the first, the world's Man's resurrection, and the future's bud, [truth Shroud in their births ; the crown of life, light; Is styled their star ; the stone and hidden food : True blessings wait upon them, one of which
Should move - - they make us holy, happy, rich. When the world's up, and every swarm abroad, Keep well thy temper, mix not with each clay ; Despatch necessities ; life hath a load Which must be carried on, and safely may ; Yet keep those cares without thee ; let the heart Be God's alone, and choose the better part.
SUMMER - AUGUST.
HISTORICAL ACCOUNT OF CHAIRS AND SOFAS.
Historical deduction of seats, from the stool to the sofa. A
school-boy's ramble. A walk in the country. The scene described. Rural sounds as well as sights delightful. Another walk. Mistake concerning the charms of solitude corrected. Colonnades commended. Alcove, and the view from it. The wilderness. The grove. The thresher. The necessity and the benefits of exercise. The works of nature superior to, and, in some instances, inimitable by art. The wearisomeness of what is commonly called a life of pleasure. Change of scene sometimes expedient. A common described, and the character of crazy Kate introduced. Gypsies. The blessings of civilized life. That state most favorable to virtue. The South Sea islanders compassionated, but chiefly Omai. His present state of mind supposed. Civilized life friendly to virtue, but not great cities. Great cities, and London in particular, allowed their due praises, but censured. Fête champêtre. The book concludes with a reflection on the fatal effects of dissipation and effeminacy upon our public measures.
Time was, when clothing sumptuous, or for use, Save their own painted skins, our sires had none. As yet black breeches were not ; satin smooth, Or velvet soft, or plush with shaggy pile. The hardy chief upon the rugged rock Washed by the sea, or on the gravelly hank Thrown up by wintry torrents roaring loud, Fearless of wrong, reposed his weary strength. Those barbarous ages past, succeeded next The birth-day of invention ; weak at first, Dull in design, and clumsy to perform.
THE SUBJECT ANNOUNCED.
I sing the Sofa. I, who lately sang Truth, Hope, and Charity, and touched with awe The solemn chords, and with a trembling hand, Escaped with pain from that adventurous flight, Now seek repose upon an humbler theme; The theme though humble, yet august and proud The occasion — for the Fair commands the song.
Joint-stools were then created ; on three legs Upborne they stood. Three legs upholding firm A massy slab, in fashion square or round. On such a stool immortal Alfred sat, And swayed the sceptre of his infant realms : And such in ancient halls and mansions drear May still be seen ; but perforatod sore, And drilled in holes, the solid oak is found, By worms voracious eaten through and through.