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I feel thee pulling at my gown,

Of right, good will, thy simple tuken.


And thou must laugh and wrestle too,

A mimic warfare with me waging !
To make as wily luvers do,

Thy after kindness more engaging!

The wilding rose-sweet thyself,

And new-cropt daisies are thy treasure ;-+ I'd gladly part with worldly pelf

To taste again thy youthful pleasure.

ART thon a thing of mortal birth,
Whose happy home is on the Earth?
Does human blood with life imbue
Those wandering veins of heavenly blue,
That stray along thy forehead fair,
Lost 'inid a gleam of golden bair ?
01 can that light and airy breath
Steal from a being doom'd to death ;
Those features to the grave be sent,
In sleep thus mutely eloquent?
Or, art thou, what thy form would seem,
The phantom of a blessed dream?
Oh! that my spirit's eye could see
Whence burst those gleams of extacy!
That light of dreaming-soul appears
To play from thoughts above thy years,
Thou smil'st as if thy soul were soaring
To Heaven, and Heaven's God adoring!
And who can tell what visions high
May bless an infant's sleeping eye?
What brighter throne. can brightness find
To reign on, than an infant's mind,
Ere sin-destroy'd, or error dim,
The glory of the seraphim?

But yet, for all thy merry look,

Thy frisks and wiles, the time is coming, When thou shalt sit in cheerless nook,

The weary spell, or horn-book thumbing.

Well, let it be! Through weal and wo,

Thou know'st not now thy future range ; Life is a motley, shifting show :

And thou a thing of hope and change.



CHILDHOOD, happy stage of life!
Free from care and free from strife,

Free from memory's ruthless reign,

Fraught with scenes of former pain;

Free from fancy's cruel skill,

Fabricating future ill;
Whose imp art thou, with dimpled cheek, Time, when all that meets the view,
And curly pate, and merry eye,

All can charm, for all is new.
And arm and shoulders round and sleek,
And soft and fair, thou urchin sly?

Then to toss the circling ball,

Caught rebounding from the wall; What boots it who with sweet caresses,

Then the mimic ship to guide First called thee his, or squire, or hind?

Down the kennel's dirty tide ; For thou in every wight that passes,

Then the hoop's revolving pace Dost now a friendly playmate find.

Through the dusty street to chase ;

O what joy!-it once was mine Thy downcast glances, grave, but ça nning, Childhood, pleasing boon of thine!

As fringed eyelids rise and fall; Thy shyness, swiftly from me running, 'Tis infantine coquetry all!



But far a-field thou hast not flown,
With mocks and threats, half-lisped, half-

spoken ;

Be it a weakness, it deserves some praise,
We love the play-place of our early days;

The scene is touching, and the heart is stone What walks I loved ; where grew my fa-
That feels not at that sight, and feels at none. vourite oak;
The wall on which we tried our graving skill, How gently I would lead him by the hand;
The very name we carved subsisting still ; How gently use the accent of command ;
The bench on which we sat while deep What lore I taught him, roaming wood and

wild, Tho' mangled, hacked, and hewed, not yet And how the man descended to the child; destroyed :

How well I loved with him, un Sabbath The little ones, unbuttoned, glowing hot,

morn, Playing our games, and on the very spot; To bear the anthem of the vocal thorn ; As happy as we once, to kneel and draw To teach religion, unallied to strife, The chalky ring, and knuckle down at taw; And trace to him the way, the truth, the life. To pitch the ball into the grounded bat, But far and farther still my view I bend, Or drive it devious with a dexterous pat; And now I see a child thy steps attend; The pleasing spectacle at once excites To yonder churchyard-wall thou tak’st thy Such recollection of our own delights,

way, That viewing it, we seem almost t obtain While round thee, pleased, thou see'st the Our innocent, sweet simple years again.

infant play ; Then lifting him, while tears suffuse thine

eyes, Pointing thou tell’st him, There thy grand

sire lies! TO MY SON.



Twice has the sun commenced his annual

YOUTH round, Since first thy footsteps tottered o'er the ground,

Youth is the vision of a moru, Since first thy tongue was tuned to bless

'That flies the coming day ; mine ear;

It is the blossom on the thorn
By faltering out the name to fathers dear. Which rude winds sweep away.
O nature's language, with her looks com-

It is the image of the sky,
More precions far than periods thrice refined ! In glassy waters seen,
0! sportive looks of love, devoid of guile, When not a cloud appears to fly
I prize you more than Beauty's magic smile! Across the blue serene.
Yes, in that face, unconscious of its charm,
I gaze with bliss unmingled with alarm. But when the waves begin to roar,
Ah, no! full oft a boding horror flies

And lift their foaming head,
Athwart my fancy, uttering fateful cries. The mimic stars appear no more,
Almighty Power! his harmless life defend, And all the heaven is fled.
And if we part, 'gainst me the mandate send.
Aud yet a wish will rise,-would I might 'Tis fleeting as the passiog rays

Of bright electric fire,
Till added years his memory firmness give! That gild the pole with sudden blaze,
For 0! it would a joy in death impart, And in that blaze expire.
To think I still survived within his heart;
To think he'll cast, midway the vale of It is the morning's gentle gale,

That, as it sofly blows,
A retrospective look, bedimmed with tears; Scarce seems to sigh across the vale,
And tell, regretful, how I looked and spoke; Or bend the blushing rose.

But soon the gath'ring tempests pour,

Here Obligation, e'en beneath the wing And all the sky deform;

That hatches it to life, will fix a sting: The gale becomes a whirlwind's roar, Here worth is trampled down by mounted The sigh a raging storm.


And Modesty by Av'rice push'd aside. For Care and Sorrow's morbid gloom, Such slow discernment guides the stupid And heart-corroding strife,

crowd, And sickness pointing to the tomb,

That Impudence for Talent is allow'd :
Await the noon of life.

In Life's true masquerade fools are so blind,
That half a thin disguise will cheat mankind:
Here Ostentation weak expedients tries,
To lead from happiness our wand'ring eyes:
Tbou would'st do good-but be thou pure as


With ev'ry kindness let thy bosom glow; WORLD.

Detraction's pois'nous breath thy fame shall

blot, BIDLAKE.

Or Envy's microscope pry out a spot! Oft have I seen when musing on the shore, Has then this sickly world no cordial balm? Unskilful infants grasp th' unwieldy oar, This storm of passion no delightful calm? Pusb the frail bark into the swelling main, | Yet as the traveller 'mid dreary wastes Borne by the rapid tide, pant to regain Here meets a flower-there a fountain The less'ning land, and, shrieking weep too tastes--late

As stars that aid the gloom of during night, The gaping horrors of tempestuous fate !

So scatter'd worth diffuses partial light; True picture of our unsuspecting age,

Oe'r all our ills a self-born radiance sheds, Who long to stretch where fatal billows rage:

More bright, like phosphorus as darkness 'Gainst our own heaven like angels we rebel, spreads. And quit the realms where during raptures Let potent Wisdom smooth the wrinkled dwell;

brow, Pant for a wing to range the World around, And sweet Complacence soften all below. The World-how swoons my soul to hear See in each rising Sun new comfort giv'n the sound;

And when it sets behold a nearer Heav'n! The World where Pleasure flies the grasp

The few rare gems of Friendship here iming hand,

• prove And Hope builds palaces on shifting sand :

As fading emblems of Eternal Love!
Where Treachery talks with sweetly melting

Of horrid words that turn to gall and wo:
Confederacies of profit or of vice,
Where Friendship's only firm as faithless

When potent Avarice casts a golden ray,
Dissolves its brittle mass and floats away :

Fix'd in the breast where pride or intrest

TIME, swift time from years your motion And Love, a secondary passion, lives ;

stealing, Where children cherish'd by Affection's ray, Unperceived hath sober manhood brought; Long in the dust the partial sire to lay : Truth, her pare and humble forms revealing Tho' daily fondness beains the constant Peoples fancy's fairy-land with thought : smile,

Then the heart, no longer prone to roam, And only wisely keeps its own awhile. Loves, loves best, the quiet bliss of home.


ice :


Self-PLATTERED, unexperienced, high in hope,
When young, with sanguine cheer, and streamers gay,
We cut our cable, launch into the world,
And fondly dream each wind and star our friend :
All in some darling enterprise embark'd;
But where is he can fathom its event!
Amid a multitude of artless hands,
Ruin's sure perquisite, her lawful prize!
Some steer aright, but the black blast blows hard,
And puffs them wide of hope; with hearts of proof,
Full against wind and tide, some win their way,
And when strong effort has deserv'd the port,
And tugg'd it into view, 'tis won, 'tis lost !
They strike! and while they triumph they expire !
One Cæsar lives; a thousand are forgot.

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Its breath was cold, and made the sportive

blood, Stagnant, and dull, and heavy, round the

wheels Of life. The roots of that whereon it blew Decayed, and with the genial soul no more Held sympathy; the leaves, the branches

drooped, And mouldered slowly down to formless


HBAR what they were : The progeny of Sin
Alike, and oft combined; but differing much
In mode of giving pain. As felt the gross
Material part, when in the furnace cast,
So felt the soul, the victim of Remorse.
It was a fire which on the verge of God's
Commandments burned, and on the vitals fed
Of all who passed. Who passed, there met

A violent fever seized his soul; the heavens
Above, the earth beneath, seemed glowing

brass, Heated seven times; he heard dread voices

speak, And mutter horrid prophecies of pain, Severer and severer yet to come ; And as he writhed and quivered, scorched

within, The Fury round his torrid temples flapped Her fiery wings, and breathed upon his lips And parched tongue, the withered blasts of

hell. It was the suffering began thou sawest In symbol of the worm that never dies.

Not tossed and driven by violence of winds, But withering where they sprung, and rot

ting there. Long disappointed, disappointed still, The hopeless man, hopeless in his main wish, As if returning back to nothing, felt; In strange vacuity of being hung, And rolled, and rolled his eye on emptiness, That seemed to grow more empty every hour.



The other, Disappointment seemed Negation of delight. It was a thing Sluggish and torpid, tending towards death,

The distempered mind Has lost that concord of harmonious powers Which forms the soul of happiness, and all Is off the poise within ; the passions all Have burst their bounds, and Reason half


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