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The boat is brimful in the cove; the oars on the rocking tide. A maid sits sad beside the rock, and eyes the rolling stream. Her lover promised to come. She saw his boat, when yet it was light, on the lake. Is this his broken boat on the shore? Are these his groans on the wind ? Hark! the hail rattles around. The tops of the bills are white. rious is the night, and cold; night.

The flaky snow descends. The stormy winds abate. Vareceive me, my friends, from

FOURTH BARD.

NIGHT is calm and fair; blue, starry, settled is night. The winds, with the clouds, are gone.

They sink behind the hill.

The moon is up on the mountain.

Trees glister; streams shine

The wind is rustling in the oak,

They seem to hear the tread of feet;

They start, they rise, look round the rock,

Again they smile, again they meet.

"The wind rustling in the oak, and the tread of feet." "The wind drives

the withered burs, clung together along the sighing grass. It is the light tread of a ghost." Supra, 9.

23 Is that his broken boat on the shore?

Are these his groans on the wind?] In the Songs of Selma, "He loads the wind with his groans.-The boat is broken in twain." But the turn of the conclusion, leaving the death of the lovers to conjecture, is pecaliarly modern: As in AKENSIDE'S Ode on the Winter Solstice.

At morn their father went abroad,

The moon is sunk, and deep the road,

She sighs and wonders at his stay.

24 Bright rolls the settling lake.] In PARNELL'S Night-piece.
The lake is smooth and clear beneath,
Where once again the spangled shew
Descend to meet our eyes below.

Bright the stream of the vale.

I see the trees overturned;
The shocks of corn on the plain.

The wakeful peasant rebuilds the sheaves,
Or drives the beasts of the hills away 25.
-Calm, settled, and fair is night.

Who comes from the place of the dead 26 ?
That form in the robe of snow;

These white arms, that hair of gold!

The daughter of the chief of the people 27;
She that lately fell!

Come, let us view thee, maid;

Thou that wert the desire of heroes!

The blast drives the phantom away;

White, and without form, it ascends the hill.

The breezes drive the blue mist

Over the narrow vale :

Grey on the hill it ascends,

And joins itself to the sky.

Night is settled and calm,

Blue, starry, bright with the moon.
Receive me not, my friends,
For lovely is the night.

FIFTH BARD.

NIGHT is calm, but dreary;

The moon in a cloud in the west.

But the preceding description in the text, of a calm, serene, moonlight night, is as superior to Parnell's as it is inferior to Homer's, from which the images are chiefly taken.

25 The wakeful peasant rebuilds the sheaves,

And drives the beasts of the hills away.] In the improved version,

on the rock. Bright rolls the settled lake; bright the stream of the vale.

I see the trees overturned; the shocks of corn on the plain. The wakeful hind rebuilds the shocks, and whistles on the distant field.

Calm, settled, fair is night! Who comes from the place of the dead? That form with the robe of snow; white arms, and dark-brown hair! It is the daughter of the chief of the people: she that lately fell! Come, let us view thee, O maid! thou that hast been the delight of heroes! The blast drives the phantom away; white, without form, it ascends the hill.

The breezes drive the blue mist, slowly, over the narrow vale. It rises on the hill, and joins its head to heaven. Night is settled, calm, blue, starry, bright with the moon. Receive me not, my friends, for lovely is the night.

FIFTH BARD.

NIGHT is calm, but dreary. The moon is in a cloud in the

"The wakeful hind rebuilds the shocks, and whistles in the distant field," in conformity with the original in THOMSON'S Autumn.

Behind the master walks, builds up the shocks.

And in MILTON's L'Allegro.

While the ploughman near at hand

Whistles o'er the furrowed land.

But as imitation is seldom consistent, the wakeful hind could neither have been heard on the distant field, nor be supposed to whistle with unconcern at the disasters of a stormy night which had unrooted the cottage, and overturned, not only the shocks of corn, but the very trees themselves. 20 Who comes from the place of the dead.] PARNELL's Night-piece. The left presents a place of graves,

Whose wall the silent water laves.

The daughter of the chief of the people.] He taketh away the heart of the chief of the people. Job, xii. 24.

Slow moves that feeble-beam

Along the shady hill.

The distant wave is heard ;

The stream dull murmurs on the rock.
The cock is heard from the booth.
More than half the night is passed.
The housewife, groping in the gloom,
Rekindles the settled fire 28.
The hunter thinks it day,
And calls his nimble dogs :
He ascends the hill,

And whistles the road away:

A blast removes the cloud;

He sees the starry plough of the north 29:
Much of the night is to pass.

He nods by the mossy stone.

Hark! the whirlwind is in the wood;

Low murmurs on the plain.

"Tis the army of the mighty dead 30
Returning from the air!

28 More than half the night is passed.

The housewife, groping in the gloom,

Rekindles the settled fire.] An obvious, yet exquisite imitation of

Virgil. Æn. viii. 407.

Inde, ubi prima quies medio jam noctis abacte

Curriculo expulerat somnum, cum femina primum,
Cui tolerare colo vitam tenuique Minerva,
Impositum, cinerem et sopitos suscitat ignes, &c.

Now when the night her middle race had rode,
The time when early housewives leave the bed,
When living embers on the hearth are spread.

DRYDEN.

The hunter had already "waked the fire decayed," supra, 14. (et sopites suscitat ignes, rekindles the settled fire,) and "The housewife groping in the gloom," is a continuation of the former imitation of Job, "He taketh

west. Slow moves that pale beam along the shaded hill. The distant wave is heard. The torrent murmurs on the rock. The cock is heard from the booth. More than half the night is past. The housewife, groping in the gloom, rekindles the settled fire. The hunter thinks that day approaches, and calls his bounding dogs. He ascends the hill, and whistles on his way. A blast removes the cloud. He sees the starry plough of the north. Much of the night is to pass. He nods by the mossy rock.

Hark! the whirlwind is in the wood! A low murmur in the vale! It is the mighty army of the dead returning from the

air.

away the heart of the chief of the people of the earth.-They grope in the dark without light." xii. 25. But the additional image of the cock heard from the booth, is peculiarly happy, as descriptive of a state of society a thousand years later than Ossian. It has escaped, as I believe, the observation of commentators, that the cock was unknown to Homer, who mentions geese as domesticated, and to the Jewish writers till after the Babylonish captivity, when the jungle fowl of the East Indies were probably first introduced into Asia Minor. The earliest notice of the bird is in the apocryphal book of Esdras, "I gathered you together, as a hen gathereth her chickens under her wings," 2 Esdras, i. 30. which our Saviour has quoted in his pathetic apostrophe to Jerusalem, Matthew, xxiii. 27. but the church has uniformly rejected the book as not canonical.

29 He sees the starry plough of the north.] POPE's Iliad, xviii. 560. The starry lights that heaven's high convex crowned; The Pleiads, Hyads, with the northern team.

Odyssey, v. 347.

There viewed the Pleiads and the northern team; from the wain converted into the starry plough of the north. 30 'Tis the army of the mighty dead.] THOMSON's Winter. And hold high converse with the mighty dead.

But the mighty army of the dead returning from the air, while the moon rests behind the hill, is PARNELL's Night-piece reversed.

Ha! while I gaze, pale Cynthia fades,

The bursting earth unveils the shades,
All slow and wan, and wrapt in shrouds,

They rise in visionary crowds.

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