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Mars has look'd the sky to red;
and Peace, the lazy good, is fled.
Plenty, peace, and pleasure fly:
the sprightly green
in woodland-walks no more is seen;
the sprightly green has drunk the Tyrian dye.
APOLLO!-king Apollo !
H in what enchanted region dost thou stay?
is it in the azure air
or in the caverns hollow,
which Thetis at the set of day
in the sea waters far away
buildeth up, as blue and fair
as thy own bright kingdoms are ?
0 King of life and light!
O peerless Archer! O triumphant God!
behold !---the golden rod
now pointeth to the promised hour,—twilight;
and she who loves thee so
is pale and full of woe.-
No wave nor throne have I,
no bower nor golden grove,
no palace built on high,
to tempt thee not to rove,
but truth, and such a love
as would not shame the sky,
if these be nothing, Time
shall teach me how to die.
B. W. PROCTER
T'M wearing awa', Jean,
I like snaw when it is thaw, Jean,
I'm wearing awa'
to the land o’the leal.
There's nae sorrow there, Jean,
there's neither cauld nor care, Jean,
the day is aye fair
Ye were aye leal and true, Jean,
your task's ended noo, Jean,
and I'll welcome you
to the land o' the leal.
Our bonnie bairn's there, Jean,
she was baith guid and fair, Jean;
Owe grudged her right sair
to the land o' the leal!
then dry that tearfu' e'e, Jean,
my soul langs to be free, Jean,
and angels wait on me
to the land o’ the leal.
now fare ye weel, my ain Jean,
this warld's care is vain, Jean;
we'll meet and aye be fain
in the land o' the leal.
HARK, how through many a melting note
11 she now prolongs her lays;
how sweetly down the void they float!
the breeze their magic path attends:
the stars shine out; the forest bends:
the wakeful heifers gaze.
Whoe'er thou art whom chance may bring
to this sequestered spot,
if then the plaintive Siren sing,
O softly tread beneath her bower,
and think of heaven's disposing power,
of man's uncertain lot.
O think, o'er all this mortal stage
what mournful scenes arise;
what ruin waits on kingly rage;
how often virtue dwells with woe;
how many griefs from knowledge flow;
how swiftly pleasure flies.
O sacred bird, let me at eve,
thus wandering all alone,
thy tender counsel oft receive,
bear witness to thy pensive airs,
and pity Nature's common cares
till I forget my own.
I MET Louisa in the shade,
I and having seen that lovely maid
why should I fear to say
that nymph-like she is fleet and strong,
and down the rocks can leap along
like rivulets in May?
And smiles has she to earth unknown;
smiles, that with motion of their own
do spread and sink and rise;
that come and go with endless play,
and ever as they pass away
are hidden in her eyes.
She loves her fire, her cottage-home :
yet o'er the moorland will she roam
in weather rough and bleak;
and, when against the wind she strains,
O might I kiss the mountain rains
that sparkle on her cheek !
Take all that's mine beneath the moon,
if I with her but half a noon
may sit beneath the walls
of some old cave or•mossy nook,
when up she winds along the brook
to hunt the waterfalls.
THE sturdy rock, for all his strength,
1 by raging seas is rent in twain :
the marble stone is pierced at length
with little drops of drizzling rain:
the ox doth yield unto the yoke;
the steel obeyeth the hammer stroke.
The stately stag, that seems so stout,
by yelping hounds at bay is set:
the swiftest bird, that flies about,
is caught at length in fowler's net:
the greatest fish in deepest brook
is soon deceived by subtle hook.
Yea, man himself, unto whose will
all things are bounden to obey, for all his wit and worthy skill,
doth fade at length and fall away. There is no thing but time doth waste; the heavens, the earth, consume at last. But virtue sits, triumphing still,
upon the throne of glorious Fame:
though spiteful death man's body kill,
yet hurts he not his virtuous name.
By life or death what so betides,
the state of virtue never slides.
THOU rising sun, whose gladsome ray
1 invites my fair to rural play,
dispel the mist, and clear the skies,
and bring my Orra to my eyes.
0! were I sure my dear to view,
I'd climb that pine-tree's topmost bough,
fast by the roots enraged I'd tear
the trees that hide my promised fair.
Oh! could I ride the clouds and skies,
or on the raven's pinions rise;
ye storks, ye swans, a moment stay,
and waft a lover on his way.
My bliss too long my bride denies,
apace the wasting summer flies:
nor yet the wintry blasts I fear,
not storms or night shall keep me here.
What may for strength with steel compare?
O love has fetters stronger far:
by bolts of steel are limbs confined,
but cruel love enchains the mind.
No longer then perplex thy breast;
when thoughts torment, the first are best:
'tis mad to go, 'tis death to stay:
away to Orra, haste away.
M Y dear and only love, I pray
IV that little world of thee
be governed by no other sway
but purest monarchy.
And in the empire of thy heart,
where I should solely be,
let none beside pretend a part,
or dare to share with me.
As Alexander I will reign,
and I will reign alone;
my thoughts did evermore disdain
a rival on my throne.
He either fears his fate too much,
or his deserts are small,
who dares not put it to the touch
to gain or lose it all.
But if no faithless action stain
thy love and constant word,
I'll make thee famous by my pen
and glorious by my sword;
I'll serve thee in such noble ways
as ne'er was known before;
I'll deck and crown thy head with bays
and love thee evermore.
MARQUIS OF MONTROSE
W H Y sittest thou on that sea-girt rock
W with downward look and sadly-dreaming eye: playest thou beneath with Proteus' flock, or with the far-bound sea-bird wouldst thou fly?
I sit upon this sea-girt rock
with downward look and dreaming eye;
But neither do I sport with Proteus flock,
nor with the far-bound sea-bird would I fly.
F. S. II.