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Like children at the approach of one they love,
Rejoicing in her light, the forests spread
Their wide umbrageous canopies, and cast
Behind a black intensity of shade:
The mountains rear their cverlasting heads
Soften'd, and overspread with silver haze,
Far in the depth of night; and gurgling down,
Between its osiered banks, and shadowy rocks,
Here silvery bright, there bough-o'ercanopied,
Prone from its native hills toward the sea
The river gushes onward. Not a sound
Except its stilly murmur meets the ear,
Lulling to peace the woodland solitudes,
Or fitfully, mayhap, the distant bay
Of watch-dog, from the far abodes of men!

Oh Queen! that rulest the nocturnal heaven,
Peace dwells for ever with thee !-- Tempest3 roll
Their darkness o'er thy countenance serene,
And blot thee from the wistful gaze of men,-
'Tis for a moment only, and the eve
Again returning in quotidian round,
Restores theem like a phænix from its tomb
In unextinguish'd glory to our sight.
Thou art a thing that passest not away;
Thou art a thing that, looking, smil'st on Time,
And on the changes of this lower world!
But we are frail and fragile—we are men,
Children of clay, and creatures of the dust;
We are but for a moment, and no more ;
We are but flowers of a season! now thy face
Beams on us, and to-morrow on our graves !

Yet are we not without our bliss below, Nor is our span, all narrow though it be, Devoid of wild diversity and change :Ah! not the same in features or in thought Am I, as when, a few swift years ago, Resting upon this individual bank, On eves how like to this ! from out that shrine Of forests, and of everlasting hills, I saw thee, bursting from a ring of clouds, Deluge, with holy light, the eastern sky.

Where are the visions, that, with ardent mind,
And dreams of high romance, I cherish'd then?
The pleasures I pursued,—the friends I loved ? -
Time, like a wizard, hath transform’d them all,
Or, like the rainbow, melted into nought.
It is in vain we would pursue, would sigh
For forms that still elude; it is in vain
We build on hopes, that, like the summer tower,
Rear'd on the thirsty sands, beside the sea,
Foundationless must fall!

Year follows year
To curb the dark rebellion of our souls,
And break our haughty spirits to the yoke,
Until tame beasts of burthen we become,
With degradation satisfied and pleased !
Thus hath it been, and thus it still must be ;
And where the marvel? Can we think to mix
Amid the yeasty turmoil of the world,

Amid the tribes of guilty and unclean,
Amid the herd of knaves and hypocrites,-
Of smiling faces,-and deceitful hearts,
And hope that, by miraculous interpose,
Contamination, like a frighted fiend,
Should fly before our steps, and touch us not?
Or, that the blackening tide which swallows all,
Should, like the Red Sea waves, when Israel's host
Came onward, part its conscious deeps, and bid
Our path lead on in safety 'mid mankind ?

We must not look for miracles, and ah!
It is a mighty struggle to subdue
The unwilling spirit to the arts of men,
So selfish and debasing; but, when once
The wheels are set in motion of that car
Which only drives to obloquy, more faint,
Day following day, our opposition wanes,
Til, like the captive to his cell inured,
Our souls become enamour'd of their chains,
And like the Pontic King, we learn to feed
On mortal poisons, and to perish not !

But still, when gazing from this pastoral mount
Upon thy face, so glorious, and so fair,
Methinks, celestial Moon, although my soul
Knows well the windings, and the labyrinths,
The fatal quicksands and obliquities
Of this most unintelligible world ;
Although too well my spirit is aware
Of what it must encounter-must endure
What strong temptations must be overcome-
What syren sounds and scenes avoided all-
What dangers shared, and barriers clamber'd o'er-
Although endued with consciousness of these,
I feel no faultering of the heart, and yet,
Methinks the glorious projects of my youth,
Did Fate allow, might still be all fulfills,
And are not mere chimeras of the brain.

We know not that the trembling sword o'erhangs, Nor that the yawning precipice is near, And so we follow on and so we fall The victims of our inexperience ! But, were it otherwise, and could we know The dangers that surround us; could we tech The perils that encompass-'tis in vain, The doom is fixedl—the seal impressid--the waves Of tumult have pass'd over, and no more Can we retrace our steps; the past is past, For ever gone and perish'd ; hope alone Lives in the regions of Futurity ; And if we can amend, 'tis then and there!

Oh for a lonely cottage, far away From city noise and tumult, far remote From strife and dark contagion, from the stir And feverish perturbation of mankind ! Know ye the site of this my Paradise ? Over the whitened sash, and slated roof, The woodbine, wreathing its luxuriant boughs, Would form a verdant net-work; dark green leaves,

And silver flowers superbly intertwined ;
The weedless plot before would shew its bright
And regular diversity of bloom,
From virgin snow-drop, and the crocus blue,
The earliest daughters of the vernal year,
(What time the wandering cuckoo note is heard,)
Ì'o Autumn's latest lingerers, gilly-flowers,
Such as bestrew the Celtie Paradise,-
And lavender, that with its breath perfumes
The saddening, sickening beauties of the year!

Behind, the mountains rearing high their cones,
Would be my neighbours, with their woods and rocks
Precipitous, and ever-foaming streams;
Now, when the heavens are clear, my gaze would mark
Their pastoral green, o'erspread with snowy flocks,
Their undulations, and their shadows deep,
Making a night of noonday; now mine eye
Would mark what time the clouds are dark, and dew
Like diamonds glisten'd on the summer grass.
The lowering piles break heavy on their tops
Meeting them, and arresting on their flight;
As, in far foreign climes, the albatross,
Deeming itself

above terrestrial things,
High in etherial slumber, shrieking wakes
Far, far above the storms, when sudden dash'd
By veering gales, on Cimborazo's peak!

Before, the level champaign far and wide
Would spread its map of forests, and of fields
Of intervening hedge-rows, and green farms
In glorious cultivation; here would stand
The proud steed grazing 'neath a shadowy elin,
And there the mottled kine, amid the grass
With drowsy eye, and ruminating mouths,
Listless reposing.--At far distance seen,
The everlasting sea would bluely spread
Its breast, and shew its islands faintly green,
While, casually mark'd at cloudless noon,
With breeze-expanded wing the vessels pass'd
Like giant sea-birds sailing beautiful
Upon the waters.

What my tasks would be
I may not tell ; perhaps the busy world
Would deem them frivolous, and I would not,
So much our tastes and tempers disagree.

But where would stray my fancy? Where would roam
My unsubstantial visions ? Mid the depths
Of things that may not be ! Of no avail
Are these our speculations, and our hopes,
Are these our wishes; dark reality
Comes like a cloud, and with its ebon hues,
Blots out the land of promise from any sight!

But thou art with me still, all glorious Moon,
Ploughing the azure depths, and looking down
In sanctified benignity on man ;
Down from thy throne thou gaześt, and the trees
Bend as in love towards thee, and their leaves

Quiver as with a feeling of delight;
Vol. X.

4 K

Down from thy throne thou gazest and the hills
Claim kindred with thee, and, in hoariness,
Tell that their years as numerous are as thine,
Their winters and their springs; thou gazest down
Upon the waters, that with calm delight
Glisten and glow, then reel and rush beneath
The overhanging banks, and then emerge,
Still singing, as they flow, a choral song !

Then come what may, be this my solace still-
That nought can rob me of thy countenance
By night; nor of the glorious sun by day;
Nor of the beauty of the stars, when thou
Art resting in the interlunar cave,
And midnight rules in darkness. Add to this-
That from the consciousness of right proceeds
All inward satisfaction; and, that nought
External can destroy the peace within :
Then let the tempest beat, and let the world
Revel and riot in its foolishness;
Henceforth all murmurs, and repinings cease-
Queen of the starry heaven ! awhile farewell !
Not from my heart but tongue; amid the noise
Of cities, and the bustle of mankind,
Often my musing soul will journey hence
To this green landscape, to these waters blue,
To these grey mountains, and to thee, their Queen !

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THE SMUGGLER.

I spent the whole of last summer, and passing by, unnoticed, a hundred less a part of the ensuing winter, on the outwardly distinguished spots, where Hampshire coast, visiting successively feeling would love to linger, and sent most of its sea-ports and bathing-pla- timent find inexhaustible sources of ces, and enjoying its beautiful diversió interest and contemplation. ty of sea and wood scenery, often so For want of a better, however, I set intermingled, that the forest-trees dip out with my silent guide, but soon down their flexile branches into the strayed wide of its directions, ram. salt waters of the Solon sea ; and green bling away, and often tarrying hours lawns and healthy glades slope down and days in places unhonoured by its to the edge of the silver sands, and notice, and perversely deviating from not unfrequently to the very brink of the beaten road, that would have cont the water. In no part of Hampshire ducted a more docile tourist, and one is this characteristic beauty more stri- of less independent tastes, to such or kingly exemplified than at the back of such a nobleman's or gentleman's seat, the Isle of Wight, that miniature ab- or summer-house, or pavilion, built stract of all that is grand and lovely on purpose to be visited and admired. throughout England. Early in Au- But I did not shape my course thus gust, I crossed over from Portsmouth designedly in a spirit of opposition to to Ryde, purposing to fix my head- the mute director, whose not unser quarters there, and from thence to viceable) clue led me at last amongst make excursions to all such places as are the romantic rocks and cottages of accounted worthy the tourist's notice. Shanklin, Niton, and Undercliff. It But a guide-book is at best an unsym- led me to those enchanting spots and pathizing companion, cold and formal to their lovely vicinity ; but to entice as the human machine that leads you me therice, was more than its inviting over some old abbey, or venerable ca- promises could effect; and finally I thedral, pointing out indeed the prin- took up my abode for an 'indefinite cipal monuments and chapels, but time in a cottage of grey native stone, backed by the solid rocks, and tapes- speaking, there is something peculitried in front with such an interwoven arly interesting in the character of seaprofusion of rose and myrtle, as half faring men, even of those whose voyhid the little casements, and aspired ages have extended little beyond their far over the thatched roof and project- own shores. The fisherman's life ining eaves. Days, weeks, months, slip- deed may be accounted one of the most ped away imperceptibly in this deli- constant peril. For daily bread, he cious retreat, and in all the luxury of must brave daily dangers. In that lounging felicity. Mine was idleness, season when the tillers of the ground it is true, the sensation of perfect ex- rest from their labours when the aremption from all existing necessity of tisan and mechanic are sheltered withmental or corporeal exertion ;--not in theirdwellings--when the dormouse suspension of ideas, but rather a sea- and the squirrel hide in their woolly son of unbounded liberty for the wild nests, and the little birds find shelter vagrant thought to revel in, to ram- in hollow banks and trees, or resort to ble at will beyond the narrow bound- milder regions, the poor fisherman aries assigned by the claims of business must encounter all the fury of the or society, to her natural excursiveness. combined elements for his children's Summer passed away-the harvest was bread is scattered on the waters. gathered in - autumn verged upon It is this perpetually enforced inwinter, and I still tenanted the rock tercourse with danger that interests cottage. No where are we so little our feelings so powerfully in their besensible of the changes of season as in half, together with its concomitant the sea's immediate vicinity; and the effects on their character-undaunted back of the Isle of Wight is peculiarly hardihood-insurmountable perseveillustrative of this remark. Complete rance--almost heroic daring; and, gely screened from the north by a con- nerally speaking, a simplicity of heart, tinued wall of high rocky cliff, its and a tenderness of deportment toshores are exposed only to the south- wards the females and little ones of ern and westerly winds, and those are their families, finely contrasting their tempered by the peculiar softness al- rugged exterior. But, unfortunately, ways perceptible in sea-breezes. On a it is not only in their ostensible callmild autumn day, or bright winter's ing of fishermen, that these men are morning, when the sun sparkles on the forward in effronting peril

. The temptwhite sands and scintillating waves, ation of contraband trade too oftent on the sails of the little fishing-boats allures them from their honest and that steal along the shore with their peaceable avocations, to brave the laws wings spread open, like large butter- of their country, and encounter the flies, or on the tall grey cliffs, tinted most fearful risks, in pursuit of prewith many-coloured lichens, a luun- carious, though sometimes considerger on the beach will hardly perceive able gains. Of late, this desperate that the year is in its “sere and yel- trade has extended almost to an orlow, leaf, or already fallen into the ganized system ; and, in spite of all decrepitude of winter. And when the the preventive measures adopted by unchained elements proclaim aloud government, it is too obvious that the that the hoary tyrant hath commenced numbers of these “ free traders” are his reign, when the winds are let loose yearly increasing, and that their hafrom their caverns, and the agitated zardous commerce is more daringly sea rolls its waves in mountainous and vigorously carried on. Along the ridges on the rocky coast, when the Hampshire coast, and more particusea-fowl's scream is heard mingling larly in the Isle of Wight, almost in harsh concord with the howling every seafaring man is engaged in it, blast; then, oh! then,—who can tear to a less or greater extent. For the himself from the contemplation of a most part, they are connected in secret scene more sublimely interesting than associations, both for co-operation and all the calm loveliness of a summer defence; and there is a sort of freeprospect? To me its attractions were masonry ainong them, the signs and irresistible; and besides those of ina- tokens of which are soon apparent to nimate nature, I found other sources an attentive observer. “The Custom. of interest in studying the character House sharks," as they term them, are and habits of the almost amphibious not their most formidable foes, for they dwellers on that coast. Generally wage a more desperate warfare, (as rew

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