Of clamorous infants and laborious man
Unheard as yet, tho' from the chimney tops
The grey smoke, rising to the church-yard trees,
Curls its light vapour round their boughs, and gives
Promise of morning's meal. Behold the cart,
That late, well-loaded, on thy pebbled bank
Had creaked and crept, at the yet silent mill
Stopt; those full stores resigning, which shall soon
Employ thy silent waters, and awake

The clattering hubbub of the busy scene.
Adown those rocky stairs, which to thy brink
Lead from the hamlet cots, erewhile shall step,
With cleanly pail light rocking on her head,
The rustic maid, new-risen; for she has seen,
Through lattice curtain'd by the briar rose,
Her cow slow pacing up thy left hand bank,
Intelligent of hour, the burden rich

Duteous to yield; and, yet more welcome, sees,
Not far behind, the youth belov'd, from cops'd
And hay-stack'd tenement down in the vale.
Yes! and thou soon shalt hear the tender vows

Of true love breath'd; and breath'd in sweeter sound
Than song of linnet, or the quiet tune

Of thine own streams when hush'd are all the woods.
Mark that clos'd door, for it shall open soon.

It is the good dame's school, and in shall throng
Like bees in spring time to their dusky hive,
The little troop, and in resembling hum
Mutter the morning task; but when yon tower
Shall tell, far heard, the welcome tale of noon,
Some striding and some tumbling o'er the sill,
The infant tribe releas'd, with prattle loud
Shall totter down, and on thy shelving bank
Shout, laugh, and squabble, strenuous while they hurl

The frequent stone; dividing thy smooth waves.
But, on the morrow, Sabbath bells shall ring,
And 'twixt the matin and the vesper hour,
And at the rosy setting of the sun,

That little lawless multitude, which late,
Noisy and wild, had clamour'd on thy bank,
In Sunday vestments, and with sober gait

Walk by their parents' side; while from each hand,
The varied posy, dappled pinks, and rose,
Woodbine, and fragrant southernwood, and thyme
Scent the wide air. Leisure and quietness,
Apparel clean, and vacant looks, all speak
The sacred day of rest; and thou shalt bear,
From that wood-mantled tower, the holy chimes,
Silver'd and mellow'd on thy liquid course,

To neighbouring farm, and cot. There we may trust
Right welcome is the sound, more welcome still
The Pastor's voice persuasive, when he speaks
Of hopes eternal. Charitable deeds

Shedding a daily beauty on his life,

That makes his doctrine saintly; while, combin'd,
They form a picture, delicate of trait,

As the soft scene now mirror'd on thy breast;
While the soft scene, and thou its mirror fair,
Are all the sweet creation of his hand,

Whose touch is Genius, and whose life is Love.

LINES

Inscribed on a Monument, erected to the Memory of Dr. Small, in a sequestered Grove, ut Soho, near Birmingham.

BY DR. DARWIN.

YE

gay and young, who thoughtless of your doom, Shun the disgustful mansions of the dead,

Where Melancholy broods o'er many a tomb,
Mouldering beneath the yew's unwholesome shade:

If chance ye enter these sequester'd groves,
And day's bright sunshine for a while forego,
Oh! leave to Folly's cheek the laugh and loves,
And give one hour to philosophic woe!

Here, while no titled dust, no sainted bone,
No lover weeping over Beauty's bier,
No warrior frowning in historic stone,
Extorts your praises, or requests your tear;

Cold Contemplation leans her aching head,
On human woe her steady eye she turus,
Waves her meek hand, and sighs for Science dead,

For Science, Virtue, and for SMALL, she mourns.

THE DREAM.

FROM THE LATIN OF J. LEOCH *.

Lov'p of the Muse to Venus dear,
My Drummond! lend thy partial ear;

* John Leuch, the correspondent of Drummond the poet, published his Musa Priores at London, in 1620, on his return from his travels. He appears to have been born in Mar, and to have been the son of a clergyman. In one of his eclogues, he complains of having been deprived of part of his patrimony by the Duke of Leven. He studied philosophy at Aberdeen; and, when at Poictiers, applied to civil law. After his return to Britain, he lived in habits of familiarity with all the Scotish wits of the age, as Scot of Scotstarvet, Drummond of Hawthornden, whom he sometimes terms "Spinifer Damon," Alexander, Earl of Stirling; Seton, Earl of Dumfermline; and Hamilton, Earl of Melrose. He dedicates his Love poems to William Earl of Pembroke, nephew of Sir Philip Sidney. His Musæ Priores, the verses of which sometimes possess considerable elegance and fluency of stile, consist of his Eroticon, or love verses, written in imitation of the ancient models; his Idyllia, and his Epigrammata. He defends the freedom of some of his love verses by the old apology of Catullus, that his life was chaste, though his verse was wanton; or, as Goldsmith expresses it, "His conduct still right, and his argument wrong." In the preface to his Idyllia he claims some degree of merit for the variety, as well as for the originality of his stile. "Quotus enim quisque est, qui tam varia in hoc genere aggressus? namque, ut Bucolica excipias, in quibus non pauci; quis oro, præter Sanazarium, Piscatorias Eclogas; quis præter Hugonem Grotium, Nauticas tentavit? et illius, quod dolori maximo esse possit, equid præter unicum Nauticum exstat Idyllium? In Ampelicis, nullus, quod sciam. Hactenus primus ego illas agressus, nondum tamen ingressus." The Ampelic clogue, or Song of the Vintagers, was probably attempted in imi

Thou, gifted Bard, canst best explain
The dreams which haunt a poet's brain.

Ere night's bright wain her course had run,
Venus to me, and Venus' son,
Descending in a radiant car,
Rapt from earth, and bore me far;
Sparrow's billing, twittering clear,
Drew us on our swift career;
The lovely goddess, all the while,
Glow'd with pleasure's wanton smile;
O'er her hover'd all the Graces,
Sighs and Kisses, and Embraces :
Around her son, in vesture bright,
Hopes and Murmurs flutter'd light;
With every form of melting bliss,
That breathes or sucks the humid kiss.
Swimming on the moon-beams pale,
Soon we reach'd sweet Tempe's vale:
Zephyrs fluttering o'er the strand,
Bade every glowing flower expand:
While the nightingale on high,
Pour'd her liquid melody.

O'er the level lawn we flew ;

The grove's deep shadow round us grew;

Deep within a soft retreat,

Flow'd a spring with murmur sweet.
"Here be all thine offerings done,"-

Softly whisper'd Venus' son:

tation of the Italians. A long poem in this stile was composed by Tansillo, and denominated Il Vendemiatore.

On the departure of our author from Paris, in 1620, the following Poetical Address was published, and inscribed to him. "Sylva, Leochæo suo, Sacra, sive Lycida Desiderium," a Georg. Camerario, Scoto, Paris 1620.