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You came a wooing to his daughter, John.

Thou perfect pattern of thy slander'd sex, *Do you remember,

Whom miseries of mine could never alienate, With what a coy reserve and seldom speech, Nor change of fortune shake; whom injuries, (Young maidens must be chary of their speech) And slights (the worst of injuries) which moved 1 kept the honors of my maiden pride?

Thy nature to return scorn with like scorn, I was your favourite then.

Then when you left in virtuous pride this house,
John. O Margaret, Margaret!

Could not so separate, but now in this
These your submissions to my low estate,

My day of shame, when all the world forsake,
And cleaving to the fates of sunken Woodvil, You only visit me, love, and forgive me.
Write bitter things 'gainst my unworthiness.

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The head that oft this Pillow press'd,
That aching head is gone to rest;
Its little pleasures now no more,
And all its mighty sorrows o'er,
For ever, in the worms' dark bed.
For ever sleeps that humble head.

My Friend was young, the world was new;
The world was false, my Friend was true;
Lowly his lot, his birth obscure,
His fortune hard, my Friend was poor;
To wisdom he had no pretence,
A child of suffering, not of sense ;
For nature never did impart
A weaker or a warmer heart.
His fervent soul, a soul of flame,
Consum'd its frail terrestrial frame;
That fire from Heaven so fiercely burn'd,
That whence it came it soon return'd:
And yet, O Pillow! yet to me,
My gentle Friend survives in thee;
In thee, the partner of his bed,
In thee, the widow of the dead!

On Helicon's inspiring brink,
Ere yet my Friend had learn'd to think,
Once as he pass'd the careless day
Among the whispering reeds at play,
The Muse of Sorrow wandered by;
Her pensive beauty fix'd his eye;
With sweet astonishment he smiled;
The gipsy saw-she stole the child;
And soft on her ambrosial breast
Sang the delighted babe to rest ;
Convey'd him to her inmost grove,
And loved him with a mother's love.
Awaking from his rosy nap,
And gayly sporting on her lap,
His wanton fingers o'er her lyre
Twinkled like electric fire:
Quick and quicker as they flew,
Sweet and sweeter tones they drew;
Now a bolder hand he flings,
And dives among the deepest strings;
Then forth the music brake like thunder;
Back he started, wild with wonder!
The Muse of Sorrow wept for joy,
And claspid and kiss'd her chosen boy.

Ah! then no more his smiling hours
Were spent in childhood's Eden bowers;
The fall from infant innocence,
The fall to knowledge drives us thence:
O knowledge! worthless at the price,
Bought with the loss of Paradise !

On hi
In de


As happy ignorance declined,
And reason rose upon bis mind,
Romantic hopes and fond desires
(Sparks of the soul's immortal fires!)
Kindled within his breast the rage
To breathe through every future age,
To clasp the fitting shade of fame,
To build an everlasting name,
O’erleap the narrow vulgar span,
And live beyond the life of man!

Then Nature's charms his heart possess'd,
And Nature's glory fillid his breast :
The sweet Spring morning's infant rays,
Meridian Summer's youthful blaze,
Maturer Autumn's evening mild,
And hoary Winter's midnight wild,
Awoke his eye, inspired his tongue;
For every scene he loved, he sung.
Rude were his songs, and simple truth,
Till boyhood blossom'd into youth ;
Then nobler themes his fancy fired,
To bolder flights his soul aspired;
And as the new moon's opening eye
Broadens and brightens through the sky,
From the dim streak of western light
To the full orb that rules the night;
Thus, gathering lustre in its race,
And shining through unbounded space,
From earth to heaven his genius soar'd,
Time and eternity explor’d,
And hail'd, where'er its footsteps trod,
In Nature's temple, Nature's God:
Or pierced the human breast to scan
The hidden majesty of man ;
Man's hidden weakness too descried,
His glory, grandeur, meanness, pride;
Pursued, along their erring course,
The streams of passion to their source;
Or in the mind's creation sought
New stars of fancy, worlds of thought!
-Yet still through all his strains would flow
A tone of uncomplaining woe,
Kind as the tear in pity's eye,
Soft as the slumbering infant's sigh,
So sweetly, exquisitely wild,
It spake the Muse of Sorrow's child.

O Pillow! then, when light withdrew, To thee the fond enthusiast flew; On thee, in pensive mood reclined, He poured his contemplative mind, Till o'er his eyes with mild controul Sleep like a soft enchantment stole, Charm'd into life his airy schemes,

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And realized his waking dreams.

His name has perished from the earth,
Soon from those waking dreams he woke,

This truth survives alone:
The fairy spell of fancy broke;
In vain he breathed a soul of fire,

That joy and grief, and hope and fear
Through every chord that strung his lyre.

Alternate triumph'd in his breast;

His bliss and woe,-a smile, a tear!
No friendly echo cheer'd his tongue,

-Oblivion hides the rest.
Amidst the wilderness he sung;
Louder and bolder bards were crown'd,

The bounding pulse, the languid limb,
Whose dissonance his music drown'd:

The changing spirits' rise and fall; The public ear, the public voice,

We know that these were felt by him,
Despised his song, denied his choice,

For these are felt by all.
Denied a name,-a life in death,
Denied--a bubble and a breath.

He suffer'd,,but his pangs are o'er;
Stript of his fondest, dearest claim,

Enjoy'd,—but his delights are fled; Ind disinherited of fame,

Had friends,-his friends are now no more; Co thee, O Pillow ! thee alone,

And foes,-his foes are dead. Je made his silent anguish known;

He loved,

but whom he loved, the grave Iis haughty spirit scorn'd the blow

Hath lost in its unconscious womb:
Chat laid his high ambition low;
But ah! his looks assumed in vain

O she was fair!—but nought could save
A cold ineffable disdain,

Her beauty from the tomb. While deep he cherished in his breast

He saw whatever thou hast seen; Che scorpion that consumed his rest.

Encounter'd all that troubles thee; Yet other secret griefs had he,

He was—whatever thou hast been;
Pillow! only told to thee:

He is—what thou shalt be.
Say, did not hopeless love intrude
In his poor bosom's solitude ?

The rolling seasons, day and night,
Perhaps on thy soft lap reclined,

Sun, moon, and stars, the earth and main, In dreams the cruel fair was kind,

Erewhile his portion, life and light,
That more intensely he might know

To him exist in vain.
The bitterness of waking woe.
Whate'er those pangs from me conceald,

The clouds and sunbeams, o'er his eye
To thee in midnight groans reveal'd;

That once their shades and glory threw, They stung remembrance to despair;

Have left in yonder silent sky ** A wounded spirit who can bear!"

No vestige where they flew. Meanwhile disease, with slow decay,

The annals of the human race, Moulder'd his feeble frame away!

Their ruins since the world began, And as his evening sun declined,

Of him afford no other trace
The shadows deepen’d o'er his mind.

What doubts and terrors then possess'd
The dark dominion of his breast!
How did delirious fancy dwell

On madness, suicide, and hell!

_“6 Leave me not, Adam! leave me not below; There was on earth no power to save: -But, as he shudder'd o'er the grave,

With thee I tarry, or with thee I go,'He saw from realms of light descend

She said, and yielding to his faint embrace, The friend of him who has no friend,

Clung round his neck, and wept upon his face. Religion !-her almighty breath

Alarming recollection soon return'd, Rebuked the winds and waves of death ;

His fever'd frame with growing anguish burn’d: She bade the storm of frenzy cease,

Ah! then, as Nature's tenderest impulse wrought, And smiled a calm, and whisper'd peace:

With fond solicitude of love she sought Amidst that calm of sweet repose,

To soothe his limbs upon their grassy bed,
To Heaven his gentle spirit rose.

And make the pillow easy to his head;
She wiped his reeking temples with her hair;

She shook the leaves to stir the sleeping air;

Moisten'd his lips with kisses: with her breath

Vainly essay'd to quell the fire of death, There lived a man:-and who was He?

That ran and revelled through his swollen veins -Mortal! howe'er thy lot be cast,

With quicker pulses, and severer pains. That man resembled thee.

“ The sun, in summer majesty on high, Unknown the region of his birth,

Darted his fierce effulgence down the sky; The land in which he died unknown:

Yet dimm'd and blunted were the dazzling rays,

Once in the flight of ages past

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His orb expanded through a dreary haze,

“ Amidst this war of elements, within And, circled with a red portentous zone,

More dreadful grew the sacrifice of sin,
He look'd in sickly horror from his throne; Whose victim on his bed of torture lay,
The vital air was still; the torrid beat

Breathing the slow remains of life away.
Oppress'd our hearts, that labour'd hard to beat. Erewhile, victorious faith sublimer rose
When higher noon had shrunk the lessening shade, Beneath the pressure of collected woes:
Thence to his home our father we convey'd, But now bis spirit waver'd, went and came,
And stretch'd him, pillow'd with his latest sheaves, Like the loose vapour of departing flame,
On a fresh couch of green and fragrant leaves. Till at the point, when comfort seem'd to die
Here, though his sufferings through the glen were For ever in his fix'd unclosing eye,

Bright through the smouldering ashes of the mai,
We chose to watch his dying bed alone,

The saint brake forth, and Adam thus began:
Eve, Seth, and I.-In vain he sigh'd for rest,
And oft his meek complainings thus express'd:

_"Oye that shudder at this awful strife, — Blow on me, wind! I faint with beat! O bring

This wrestling agony of death and life, Delicious water from the deepest spring;

Think not that He, on whom my soul is cast, Your sunless shadows o'er my limbs diffuse,

Will leave me thus forsaken to the last; Ye cedars! wash me cold with midnight dews.

Nature's infirmity alone you see ; -Cheer me, my friends! with looks of kindness

My chains are breaking, I shall soon be free; Whisper a word of comfort in mine ear; [cheer;

Though firm in God the spirit holds her trust,

The flesh is frail, and trembles into dust.
Those sorrowing faces fill my soul with gloom;
This silence is the silence of the tomb.

Horror and anguish seize me;—'tis the hour
Thither I hasten; help me on my way;

Of darkness, and I mourn beneath its power; O sing to sooth me, and to strengthen pray!'

The Tempter plies me with his direst art, We sang to sooth him,-hopeless was the song;

I feel the Serpent coiling round my heart; We pray'd to strengthen him,-he grew not strong.

He stirs the wound he once inflicted there, In vain from every herb, and fruit, and flower,

Instils the deadening poison of despair, Of cordial sweetness, or of healing power,

Belies the truth of God's delaying grace, We press'd the virtue; no terrestrial balm

And bids me curse my Maker to his face. Nature's dissolving agony could calm.

- I will not curse Him, though his grace delay; Thus as the day declined, the fell disease

I will not cease to trust Him, though he slay; Eclipsed the light of life by slow degrees :

Full on his promised mercy I rely, Yet while his pangs grew sharper, more resign'd,

For God hath spoken-God, who cannot lie. More self-collected, grew the sụfferer's mind;

—Thou, of my faith the Author and the End ! Patient of heart, though rack'd at every pore,

Mine early, late, and everlasting friend! The righteous penalty of sin he bore;

The joy, that once thy presence gave, restore Not his the fortitude that mocks at pains,

Ere I am summon'd hence, and seen no more: But that which feels them most, and yet sustains.

Down to the dust returns this earthly frame, — Tis just, ’tis merciful,' we heard him say;

Receive my spirit, Lord! from whom it came; • Yet wherefore hath he turn'd his face away?

Rebuke the Tempter, shew thy power to save, I see him not; I hear him not; I call;

O let thy glory light me to the grave, My God! my God! support me, or I fall.'

That these, who witness my departing breath,

May learn to triumph in the grasp of death.'
The sun went down, amidst an angry glare
Of flushing clouds, that crimson'd all the air;

“ He closed his eyelids with a tranquil smile, The winds brake loose; the forest boughs were torn,

And seem'd to rest in silent prayer awhile: And dark aloof the eddying foliage borne;

Around his couch with filial awe we kneelid, Cattle to shelter scudded in affright;

When suddenly a light from heaven reveal'd The florid evening vanish'd into night:

A spirit, that stood within the unopen'd door;Then burst the hurricane upon the vale,

The sword of God in his right hand he bore; In peals of thunder, and thick-vollied hail;

His countenance was lightning, and his vest Prone rushing rains with torrents whelm'd the land,

Like snow at sun-rise on the mountain's crest; Our cot amidst a river seem'd to stand;

Yet so benignly beautiful his form, Around its base, the foamy-crested streams

His presence still the fury of the storm; Flash'd through the darkness to the lightning's

At once the winds retire, the waters cease; gleams;


His look was love, his salutation, · Peace!' With monstrous throes an earthquake heaved the

“ Our mother first beheld him, sore amazed, The rocks were rent, the mountains trembled round; Never since nature into being came,

But terror grew to transport, while she gazed: Had such mysterious motion shook her frame;

'Tis he, the Prince of Seraphim, who drove We thought, ingulpht in floods, or wrapt in fire,

Our banish'd feet from Eden's happy grove;
The world itself would perishi with our sire.

Adam, my life, my spousge, awake!' she cried;
• Return to Paradise ; behold thy guide!

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Olet me follow in this dear embrace!

He call’d the elements, earth, ocean, air,
She sank, and on his bosom hid her face.

He call’d them when they were not, and they were:
Adam look'd up; his visage changed its bue, He look'd through space, and kindling o'er the sky,
Transform'd into an angel's at the view:

Sun, moon, and stars came forth to meet his eye: 'I come! he cried, with faith's full triumph fired, His spirit moved upon the desert earth, And in a sigh of ecstacy expired.

And sudden life through all things swarm’d to birth; The light was vanish’d, and the vision fled;

Man from the dust he raised to rule the whole;
We stood alone, the living with the dead;

He breathed, and man became a living soul :
The ruddy embers, glimmering round the room, Through Eden's groves the Lord of Nature trod,
Display'd the corpse amidst the solemn gloom; Upright and pure, the image of his God.
But o'er the scene a holy calm reposed,

Thus were the heavens and all their host display'd,
The gate of heaven had open'd there, and closed. In wisdom tbus were earth's foundations laid;

The glorious scene a holy sabbath closed,
“Eve's faithful arm still clasp'd her lifeless spouse; Amidst his works the Omnipotent reposed :
Gently I shook it, from her trance to rouse;

And while he view'd, and bless'd them from his seat,
She gave no answer; motionless and cold,

All worlds, all beings worshipt at his feet:
It fell like clay from my relaxing hold;

The morning stars in choral concert sang,
Alarm’d, I lifted up the locks of grey

The rolling deep with hallelujahs rang,
That hid her cheek; her soul had pass'd away: Adoring angels from their orbs rejoice,
A beauteous corse she graced her partner's side; The voice of music was Creation's voice,
Love bound their lives, and death could not divide."

" • Alone along the lyre of nature sigh’d

The master-chord, to which no chord replied ; THE EFFECT OF MUSIC ON CAIN.

For man, while bliss and beauty reign'd around,

For man alone, no fellowship was found,
“ I love thee, twilight! as thy shadows roll,

No fond companion, in whose dearer breast,
The calm of evening steals upon my soul,

His heart, repining in his own, might rest;
Sublimely tender, solemnly serene,

For, born to love, the heart delights to roam,
Still as the hour, enchanting as the scene.

A kindred bosom is its happiest home.
I love thee, twilight! for thy gleams impart

On earth's green lap, the father of mankind,
Their dear, their dying influence to my heart,

In mild dejection, thoughtfully reclined;
When o'er the harp of thought thy passing wind Soft o'er his eyes a sealing slumber crept,
Awakens all the music of the mind,

And fancy soothed him while reflection slept.
And joy and sorrow, as the spirit burns,


-whothus would make his counsel known, And hope and memory sweep the chords by turns,

Counsel that will'd not man to dwell alone,
While contemplation, on seraphic wings,

Created woman with a smile of grace,
Mounts with the flame of sacrifice, and sings.

And left the smile that made her on her face.
Twilight! I love thee; let thy glooms increase

The patriarch's eyelids open'd on his bride,
Till every feeling, every pulse is peace;

- The morn of beauty risen from his side!
Slow from the sky the light of day declines,

He gazed with new-born rapture on her charms, Clearer within the dawn of glory shines,

And love's first whispers won her to his arms. Revealing, in the hour of nature's rest,

Then, tuned through all the chords supremely sweet,
A world of wonders in the poet's breast:

Exulting nature found her lyre complete,
Deeper, O twilight! then thy shadows roll,

And from the key of each harmonious sphere
An awful vision opens on my soul.

Struck music worthy of her Maker's ear.' “ On such an evening, so divinely calm,

“ Here Jubal paused; for grim before him lay, The woods all melody, the breezes balm,

Couch'd like a lion watching for his prey,
Down in a vale, where lucid waters stray'd, With blood-red eye of fascinating fire,
And mountain-cedars stretcht their downward Fix'd like the gazing serpent's on the lyre,

An awful form, that through the gloom appear'd,
Jubal, the prince of song (in youth unknown) Half brute, half human; whose terrific beard,
Retired to commune with his harp alone;

And hoary flakes of long dishevellid hair,
For still he nursed it, like a secret thought,

Like eagle's plumage ruffled by the air,
Long cherish'd and to late perfection wrought,-

Veil'd a sad wreck of grandeur and of grace;
And still with cunning hand, and curious ear, Limbs worn and wounded; a majestic face,
Enrich'd, ennobled, and enlarged its sphere, Deep-plough’d by time, and ghastly pale with woes,
Till he had compass’d, in that magic round, That goaded till remorse to madness rose.
A soul of harmony, a heaven of sound.

Haunted by phantoms, he had fled his home,
Then sang the minstrel, in his laurel bower,

With savage beasts in solitude to roam;
Of nature's origin, and music's power.

Wild as the waves, and wandering as the wind, – He spake, and it was done ;-Eternal night, No art could tame him, and no chains could bind: At God's command, awaken’d into light;

Already seven disastrous years had shed

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