Where, save the rugged road, we find Nor hint of man; if stone or rock And left as if by earthquake strewn, Altars for Druid service fit (But where no fire was ever lit, Ye ploughshares sparkling on the slopes! Ye trees, that may to-morrow fall Lawns, houses, chattels, groves, and fields, Wages of folly, baits of crime, Of life's uneasy game the stake, O care! O guilt! O vales and plains, A genius dwells, that can subdue Most potent when mists veil the sky, Mists that distort and magnify; While the coarse rushes, to the sweeping breeze, Sigh forth their ancient melodies! List to those shriller notes! - that march Perchance was on the blast, When through this height's inverted arch They saw, adventurously impelled, This block,—and yon, whose church-like frame Be thankful, even though tired and faint, My soul was grateful for delight The scene that opens now? The greenness tells man must be there; Is of the clime in which we live; Who comes not hither ne'er shall know And who is she?-can that be Joy! While Faith, from yonder opening cloud, To hill and vale proclaims aloud, "Whate'er the weak may dread, the wicked dare, Thy lot, O man, is good, thy portion fair!" William Wordsworth. I Lacock. LACOCK NUNNERY. STOOD upon the stone where Ela lay, The widowed founder of these ancient walls, Where fancy still on meek devotion calls, Marking the ivied arch and turret gray, For her soul's rest-eternal rest to pray; Where visionary nuns yet seem to tread, A pale dim troop, the cloisters of the dead, Though twice three hundred years have flown away! But when with silent step and pensive mien, In weeds, as mourning for her sisters gone, The mistress of this lone monastic scene Came, and I heard her voice's tender tone, I said, Though centuries have rolled between, One gentle, beauteous nun is left, on earth alone. William Lisle Bowles. Laken. TO A BIRD THAT HAUNTED THE WATERS OF LAKEN IN 0 THE WINTER. MELANCHOLY bird, a winter's day, Thou standest by the margin of the pool; And, taught by God, dost thy whole being school To patience, which all evil can allay: God has appointed thee the fish thy prey; And his unthinking course by thee to weigh. Lord Thurlow. Lancell's Tower. THE RINGERS OF LANCELL'S TOWER. HEY meet once more! that ancient band, THEY With furrowed cheek and failing hand; One peal to-day they fain would ring, They meet once more! but where are now Yet proudly gaze on that lone tower, |