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when it comes, find me as prepared to meet it as were Gwendolen and her father, and inay my spirit be permitted to mingle in felicity with theirs !

THE LAND OF THE DEPARTED.*

Bright foam-crowned surges broke below,
Above high towered the rocks of ocean ;
There on the beach Cadwallon lay,
And with sweet song beguiled the day,

While round the wizard-band did blow
Boft gales to fan him with their gentle motion.

Cadwallon was an aged man,
Full ninety suns had o'er him travelled,
A sorcerer good and kind was he,
Well skilled in bardic minstrelsy ;

Earth's narrow bounds his mind outran,
And Nature's mystic lore with ease unravelled.

No secret from him could she keep,
Sun, moon, and stars lay all explored before him ;
The breezes waited his commands to blow;
For him the breakers roared or murmured low;

On billows' crests he floated o'er the deep,
And clouds upon their shadowy bosoms bore him.

While stretched upon the shore he lay,
Longing to seek Flattinnist o'er the surges,
(Island of heroes! where the blest
Enjoy a never-ending rest,

In the bright sun, and far removed away
From famine's gnawing tooth, and fell disease's scourges ;)

* The foundation of these Stanzas may be seen in an extract from Macpherson's History, quoted by Mr. Southey in the notes to his poem of Madoc.

† Green Island, so says Mr. Southey.

Sudden a storm arose, and filled
The bay with murky clouds before it driving,
Beneath whose skirts the waves their crests upreared,
When lo! forth issuing from its womb appeared

A wondrous bark, whose snow-white sails well-filled Swelled to the wind-its oars were with the billows striving

But yet no mariners were there ;
Instinct it was with life and motion ;
Chill terror seized the aged bard;
He saw no form, but words he heard

6. The boat of heroes waits—away with fear! “ Come, and behold Flattinnis o'er the ocean!"

The bark he entered, for a force
He could not challenge, in its chains had bound him :
The clouds roll round : the wind blows free;
On sails the shallop steadily:

Seven gloomy days and nights he held his course ;
Shrill voices screamed, and dull winds moaned around him,

His nature felt no wants the while;
At last with sudden fear he started ;
The waves rose mightily around-
The vessel quivered—when the sound

Broke from a thousand tongues, “ The isle! the isle ! “ Behold ! behold! the Land of the Departed !"

The clouds before him opened wide,
The calm bright land at once disclosing,
Bathed in a flood of gentle light,
That strengthened, not o'ertaxed the sight;

It lay along the rippling tide,
Like a fair dream in loveliness reposing,

N

Its hills sank gently into vales,
Round their green tops bright clouds would gather,
Hence many a sparkling streamlet's course
Fell with a softly-bridled force

In music, as when sighing gales
Bear distant harpings on in calm still weather.

The glens lay open to the sea,
The leaved trees hung rustling o'er the fountains,
The air was clear, the sky was blue and bright,
Autumn's pure sun ne'er left his mid-day height,

No chill could freeze the birds' rich melody,
No rude wind skirred* the plain, or swept the mountains.

On to the shore Cadwallen sailed
Borne by the glassy billows softly swelling;
And there the heroes' countless throng
Received the bard with joyous song ;

Him as a brother dear they hailed,
And led in triumph to his high-roofed dwelling.

In endless youth, removed from care,
Exempt from change of joy or sorrow,
Loved by the gods, in balmiest clime,
Lapped in delights they pass their time;

None can approach their joys to scare;
No envious doubts or fears to cloud the morrow,

They follow each his own delight;
Some weave again their warlike dances;
Others, with fixed and speaking eye,
List the high strains of minstrelsy ;

Others, in guise of mortal fight,
Poise their light shields, and whirl their quivering lances.

* “ Mount ye, spur ye, skir the plain."-SIEGE OF CORINTE.

And still amidst these joys they keep
For earthly friends a pure affection,
Unseen by men, on heavenly wing
O'er their best loved ones hovering ;

And thus the fair and holy sleep
From evil powers secured by their protection:

Hence oft at night, when all is still,
The death-doomed hear a knocking at the portal ;
And when the soul in act to die,
Yet shrinks at death advancing nigh,

Soft-whispering voices seem the air to fill• Fear not ! the isle is fair! the joys immortal!"

In tales like these, in olden times,
With wildest fable some dim truths entwining,
Our sires rejoiced, and with undoubting faith
Rushed headlong upon deeds of death,

Oft with just glory crowned, oft stained with crimes They fell, rough guilt with earnestness combining.

With thoughts of them upon our heart,
Be ours their faith, not guilt, to cherish;
We know from no vain minstrel's tale,
But from His word, who cannot fail,

That heaven for those, who play a faithful part,
Hath joys that will not fade, and cannot perish.

THE BRIDEGROOM'S TALE.

Every breath of air, and ray of light and heat, every beautiful prospect is, as it were, the skirts of their garments, the waving of the robes of those whose faces see God in Heaven.

NxWMAN'S SERMONS, Vol. II. Serm. XXIX. p. 404.

How soft and calm this summer eve,
Ere night her star-strewn mantle weave;
While still the warm and balmy breeze
Rustles amid those aspen trees ;
The clouds still bathed in glorious light
Resist the dark approach of night;
The moon is yet but low and red;
Scarce a star twinkles over head;
The swains still stir ; our old Church bell
Not yet hath tolled the curfew knell ;
The heaven's deep blue, the wind's warm sighs
Bring thoughts of southern climes and skies--
Come, sit, my loveliest dearest bride,
No dews shall hurt thy beauty's pride;
Screened by this over-hanging thorn,
Thou might'st in safety stay till morn-
Sit, dearest, sit beneath this tree;
From hence, thou knowest, we may see
The house where now our home we keep,
The Church yard where we both shall sleep ;
Here in my loving arms embraced,
Thy head upon my shoulder placed,
I'll tell thee an old solemn rhyme
Well suited to the place and time.

The day was hastening down the west,
And wearied men prepared to rest;
Already night had cast her shades
Through the dim forest's lone arcades,

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