With Nature's voice as the unfailing stay
And guardian of thy feelings, as the rock,
The shield, and anchor of thy purest joys.
And therefore art thou happy....And thy mind
Is stored with sweet and pleasant images,
And made the habitation of those charms
Which thou hast seen and felt; and after days
Shall see thee feeding on the blisful thoughts
Which thou hast treasured in thy memory.

And now, farewell! thou smiling Vale, thou

source

Of calm and pleasant thoughts, for this one night
Farewell, thou smiling Vale! Refreshed in heart,
And glad in spirit, with oft-loitering step
And still-reverted gaze, I quit these scenes ;
Purposing, if to-morrow's sun shall shine
Upon these eyes, once more to visit thee,
Once more to breathe the freshness of thy gales,
And once more with thy magic feast my soul,
Then for a long farewell!

Yet when the coil,
The stir, and bustle of the world shall press
Heavily on my heart, and when my soul
Is sick to death of the incessant hum
And ceremonious buz of social life,
Then shall I turn with loathing from the tricks,

Fantastic freaks, and antic mummery,
That fashion forms, with quaint formality,
To manacle mankind; then shall I turn
To thee, fair smiling Vale! Thy green recess,
Thy spreading shade, thy high-embowering rocks
Shall be a cradle and soft resting-place
For my long-harassed thoughts, and thou shalt slake
My soul's hot fever, thou shalt soothe away
The fretful peevishness that on my mind
Hangs most unpleasantly.

And I will hope
That, not unprofited, I shall recall
My thoughts from their sweet travel; that the force
Of all these influences may diffuse
Throughout my blood a mild and gentle mood,
Cooling the throbs of passion....So the peace
And calm serenity of future days
Haply shall prove thy sway most fortunate.

THE

FOREST FA Y.

A

χρη
καλανουντα

μη

καταφρονειν των αορατων, αλλ' εκ των γινομενων την δυναμιν αυτων καλαμανθανούλα, τιμών το δαιμονιο».

Ξενοφ. αερι Θεων.

THE

FOREST FAY.

I.

WHERE sweeping torrents foam, and pour
Through forest-shades with sullen roar,
Where gathering floods pursue their way
To join the woody winding bay,
There, where if mortal feet presume
The pathless wilds to tempt, or tread
The dismal glens, where endless gloom
And ever-during dusk is spread,
Straight flitting forms and shades appear
To daunt the rash resolves with fear;

II.

By tangled boughs and brakes concealed, There is my cavern, unrevealed

G