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'aulo,- who froin a window seeing her A month or more hath she been dead, ju straight across the lawn, and guessing Yet cannot I by force be led
To think upon the wormy bed, lad thought she was in tears, and found And her together.
that day lis usual efforts vain to keep away. A springy motion in her gait, May I come in?" said he:-it made her A rising step, did indicate
of pride and joy no common rate, That smiling voicc ;-she coloured, pressed That Nush'd her spirit.
her heart moment, as for brenth, and then with free I know not by what name beside ind usual tone said: "O yes,-certainly." I shall it call:--if 'twas not pride,
It was a joy to that allied,
She did inherit. There's apt to be, at conscious times like
Her parents held the Quaker-rule, In affectation of a bright-eyed case, Which doth the human feeling cool, In air of something quite serene and sure, But she was traind in Nature's school, 18 if to seem 80, was to be secure:
Nature had blest her. With this the lovers met, with this they
A waking eye, a prying mind,
A hawk's keen sight ye cannot blind,
Ye could not Hester.
To tbat unknown and silent shore, jeaned with a touch together thrillingly; Shall we not meet, as heretofore, Ind o'er the book they hung, and nothing Some summer-morning,
said, And every lingering page grew longer as When from thy chearful eyes a ray
| Hath struck a bliss upon the day,
A sweet fore-warning?
nurst, imiled upon Launcelot when he kissed her TIIE OLD FAMILIAR FACES.
first:That touch, at last, throngh every fibre slid; I HAVE had playmates, I have had comIndPaulo turned,scarce knowing what he did,
panions, Only he felt he could no more dissemble, In my days of childhood, in my joyful schoolInd kissed her, mouth to mouth, all in a
All, all are gone, the old familiar faces. jad were those hearts, and sweet was that
long kins: iacred be love from sight, whate'er it is.
I have been laughing, I have been carousing, The world was all forgot, the struggle o'er,
Drinking late, sitting late, with my bosom
cronies, Desperate the joy.—That day they read no
All, all are gone, the old familiar faces. more.
I loved a love once, fairest among women!
All, all are gone, the old familiar faces.
I have a friend, a kinder friend has no nian;
Left him, to muse on the old familiar faces.
Ghost-like I paced round the haunts of my -VHEN maidens such as Hester dic,
childhood; Their place ye may not well supply, Earth seemed a desart I was bound to traThough ye among a thousand try,
verse, With vain endeavour.
| Soeking to find the old familiar faces.
Friend of my bosom, thou more than a That but by reflex canst she
What his deity can do Why wert not thou born in my father's As the false Egyptian spel
Aped the true Hebrev miracle? So might we talk of the old familiar faces-Some fer vapours thog ist raise.
The weak brain may serve to amaze, How some they have died, and some they Bat to the reins and mobler heart
have left me, Canst nor life mor heat impart
The old world was sure forlorn,
All his panthers, and the brawls
| These, as stale, we disallos, May the Babylonish curse
Or judge of thee meant: oals thou Strait confound my stammering verse, His true Indian conquest art; If I can a passage see
And, for iry roand his dart, In this word-perplexity,
The reformed god now weaves Or a fit expression find,
A finer thyrsus of thy leaves. Or a language to my mind, (Still the phrase is wide or scant)
Scent to match thy rich perfume To take leave of thee, great plant!
Chemic art did ne'er presome Or in any terms relate
Through her quaint alembic strain, Half my love, or balf my hate:
None so soy'reign to the brain. For I hate, yet love, thee so,
Nature, that did in thee excel, That, whichever thing I shew,
Fram'd again no second smell. The plain truth will seem to be
Roses, violets, but toys A constrain'd hyperbole,
For the smaller sort of boys, And the passion to proceed
Or for greener damsels meant; More for a mistress than a weed.
Thou art the only manly scent.
Sooty retainer to the vine,
Stinking'st of the stinking kind, Bacchus' black servant, negro fine;
Filth of the moath and fog of the mind, Sorcerer, that mak'st us dote upon
Africa, that brags her foyson, Thy begrimed complexion,
Breeds no such prodigious poison, And, for thy pernicious sake,
Henbane, nightshade, both together, More and greater oaths to break
Hemlock, aconite-Nay, rather, Than reclaimed lovers take
Plant divine, of rarest virtue; 'Gainst women: thou thy siege dost lay Blisters on the tongue would hurt you Much too in the female way,
'Twas but in a sort I blam'd thee; While thou suckst the lab'ring breath None e'er prosper'd who defam'd thee; Faster than kisses or than death.
Irony all, and feign'd abuse,
Such as perplext lovers use, Thou in such a cloud dost bind us,
At a need, when, in despair
To paint forth their fairest fair,
That exceeding comeliness
They borrow language of dislike;
And, instead of Dearest Miss, (Fancy and wit in richest dress)
Jewel, Honey, Sweetheart, Bliss, À Sicilian fruitfulness.
And those forms of old adıniring,
Call her Cockatrice and Siren,
Ethiop, Wench, and Blackamoor,
Monkey, Ape, and twenty more;
Friendly Trait'ress, loving Foe,
But no other way they know
A contentment to express,
Borders so upon excess, Bacchus we know, and we allow
That they do not rightly wot His tipsy rites. But what art thou, | Whether it be pain or not.
Dr, as men, constrain'd to part
Soon shall arrive the rescuing hour, Vith what's nearest to their heart,
That yields thee up to Nature's power. Vhile their sorrow's at the height, Nature, that so late doth greet thee, lose discrimination quite,
Shall in o'er-flowing measure meet thee, Ind their hasty wrath let fall,
She shall recompense with cost lo appease their frantic gall,
For every lesson thou hast lost. On the darling thing whatever,
Then wandering up thy sire's lov'd hill, Whence they feel it death to sever,
Thou shalt take thy airy fill Though it be, as they, perforce,
Of health and pastime. Birds shall sing ruiltless of the sad divorce.
For thy delight each May-morning.
'Mid new-yeand lambkins thou shalt play, for I must (nor let it grieve thee,
Hardly less a lamb than they. Friendliest of plants, that I must) leave thee. Then thy prison's lengthened bound for tby sake, Tobacco, I
Shall be the horizon skirting round. Would do any thing but die,
And while thou fillest thy lap with flowers, Ind but seek to extend my days
To make amends for wintery hours, jong enough to sing thy praise.
The breeze, the sunshine, and the place, But, as she, who once hath been
Shall from thy tender brow efface I king's consort, is a queen
Each vestige of untimely care, Cver after, nor will bate
That sour restraint had graven there; Iny tittle of her state,
And on thy every look imprens Chough a widow, or divorced,
A more excelling childishness. jo I, from thy converse forced, Che old name and style retain,
So shall be thy days beguild, | right Katherine of Spain;
Thornton Hunt, my favourite child.
TO MISS KELLY.
| You are not, Kelly, of the cominon strain, Some collateral sweets, and snatch
That stoop their pride and female honor down Sidelong odours, that give life
To'please that many-headed beast the town, Wike glances from a neighbour's wife; And vend their lavish smiles and tricks for Ind still live in the by-places
gain; And the suburbs of thy graces;
By fortune thrown amid the actors' train, And in thy borders take delight,
You keep your native dignity of thought; In unconquer'd Canaanite.
The plaudits that attend you come unsought,
Your smiles are winds whose ways we cannot
That vanish and return we know not howModel of thy parent dear,
And please the better from a pensive face, serious infant worth a fear:
A thoughtful eye, and a reflecting brow.
THE FAMILY - NAME.
What reason first imposed thee, gentle name, Convict unconscious, culprit-child!
Name that my father bore, and his sire's sire, Jates that close with iron roar
Without reproach ? we trace our stream no Have been to thee thy nursery-door;
higher; Chains that cbink in cheerless cells
And I, a childless man, may end the same. . Have been thy rattles and thy bells;
Perchance some shepherd onLincolnian plains, Walls contrived for giant sin
In manners guileless as his own sweet flocks, have bemmed thy faultless weakness in;
Received thee first amid the merry mocks Near thy sinless bed black guilt
And arch allurions of his fellow-swaine. Her discordant house hath built,
Perchance from Salem's holier fields returned, And filled it with her monstrous brood
With glory gotten on the heads abhorr'd sights, by thee not understood
of faithless Saracens, some martial lord Sights of fear, and of distress,
Took his meek title, in whose zeal he burn'd. Chat pass a harmless infant's gucks!
Whate'er the fount whence thy beginnings
came, But the clouds, that overcast
No deed of mine shall shame thee, gentle name. Thy young morning, may not last.
Some on the beach fac sheesh stooping, WEDDED LOVE.
Or on the sath o gals truping;
Or ia link circles featly dancing THERE is a love! 'tis not the wanderip, fire With goldes brand and brareket glanring That must be fed on folly, or expire;
By shelter'd door vere infants creeping. Gleam of polluted hearts, the meteor-ray Or on the shaded berhage sleeping: That fades as rimex Reason's nobler das: Gay-featherid birds the air were vinging But passion made essential, holy, bright,
| And parrots on their high perch swinging Like the rais'd dead, our dust transforma While humming-birds like sparks of light
Twinkled and vanish'd from the sight Earth has its pange for all; its happiest
breast Not his who seets them least, but bears
them best. Life must be toil! yet oh, that toil how
FISHERMAN'S SONG. drear! But for this soother of its brief career. The charm that virtue, beauty, fondness bind, No fish stir in our hearing net. Till the mind mingles with its kindred mind! And the sky is dark, and the night in vrh 'Tis not the cold romancer's ecstacy, And we must ply the lusty car, The flame new-lit at every parking eye, For the tide is ebbing from the share: But the high impulse that the stately soul And sad are they whose faggots burn, Feels slow engross it, but engross it whole; So kindly stord for our return.
Dur boat is small, and the tempest raves, A crowd of shepherds with no aunburnt looks,
Let his divinity o'erflowing die
Soine idly trail'd their sheep-hooks on the Push bravely, Mates! our guiding star
ground, Now from its towerlet streameth far; And soine kept up a shrilly-mellow bound Ind now along the nearing strand,
Wich ebon-tipped fintes: close after these, jee, swiftly moves you faming brand : Now coming from beneath the forest-trees, Before the midnight-watch is past,
A venerable priest full soberly, We'll quaff our bowl, and mock the blant. Begirt with ministering Jooks: always his
eye Sted fast upon the matted turf he kept,
And after him his sacred vestments swept. SONG FROM THE BEACON.
From his right hand there swung a vase,
milk-white, Wish 'd-for gales the light vane veering,
of mingled wine, out-sparkling generous Better dreams the dull night checring;
And in his left he held a basket full Lighter heart the morning greeting, l'hings of better omen meeting;
Of all sweet herbs that searching eye could yes each passing stranger watching,
cull : Cars cach feeble rumour catching,
Wild thyme, and valley-lilies whiter still Say, he existeth still on earthly ground,
Than Leda's love, and creases from the rill. The absent will return, the long, long lost
His aged head, crowned with beechen wreath, be found.
Seem'd like a poll of ivy in the teeth
Of winter hoar. Then came another crowd in the tower the ward-bell ringing,
Of shepherds, lifting in due time aloud in the court the carols singing;
Their share of the ditty. After them appear'd, Busy hands the gay board dressing,
Up-follow'd by a multitude that rear'd Cager steps the threshold pressing;
Their voices to the clouds, a fair-wrought Open d arms in harte advancing,
car, Joyful looks througb blind tears glancing;
Easily rolling so as scarce to mar The gladsome bounding of his aged hound, The freedom of three steeds of dapple brown. say, be in truth is here, our long, long lost
Who stood therein did seem of great renown is found. Among the throng; his youth was fully
blown, Hymned thanks and bedesmen praying,
Shewing like Ganymede to manhood grown; With sheathed sword the urchin playing;
And, for those simple times, his garments Blazon'd hall with torches burning,
were Cheerful morn in peace returning,
A chieftain-king's: beneath his breast, half Converse sweet that strangely borrows
bare, Present bliss from former sorrow
Was hung a silver bugle, and between 2, who can tell each blessed sight and sound, | His nervy knees there lay a boar-spear keen. Chat says, he with us bides, our long, long A smile was on his countenance; he seem'd,
lost is found !
To common lookers-on, like one who dream'd
And see that oftentimes the reins would slip
Through his forgotten hands: then would
they sigh, And think of yellow leaves, of owlet's cry, of logs piled solemnly.--Ah, well-a-day,
Why should our young Endymion pine away! PROCESSION AND HYMN IN HONOUR OF PAN. Soon the assembly, in a circle rangid,
Stood silent round the shrine: each look LEADING the way, young damsels danced
was changed along,
To sudden veneration : women meek Bearing the burden of a shepherd-bong; Beckon'd their sons to silence; while each Each having a white wicker over-brimm'd
check With April'a tender younglings: next, well of virgin-bloom paled gently for slight fear;
| Endymion too, without a forest-peer,