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Stern duty rose, and frowning flung
His leaden chain around me; With iron look and sullen tongue
He muttered as he bound me—
Unfit for toil the creature;
But what have slaves with nature?'
Rev. C. Wolfe.
ON A YOUTHFUL BEAUTY.
Oh my love has an eye of the softest blue,
Yet it was not that, that won me; But a little bright drop from her soul was there—
Tis that, that has undone me.
I might have passed that lovely cheek,
But the sensitive blush that came trembling there,
I might have forgotten that red, red lip—
Yet how from the thought to sever?
And that smile I'll remember for ever.
Think not 'tis nothing but lifeless clay,
The elegant form that haunts me—
In every step, that enchants me.
Let me, not hear the nightingale sing,
The feeling and mind that comes whispering forth,
Who could blame, had I loved that face,
Yet it is for the fairy intelligence there,
Rev. C. Wolfe.
ODE ON THE DARWENT.
Darwent! what scenes thy wandering waves behold, As bursting from thy hundred springs they stray,
And down those vales in sounding torrents rolled.
Here thy dark alders leaning from the cliff
Flow on, ye waves! where dressed in gorgeous pride,
With playful malice from her kindled cheeks,
And tell her, Darwent, as you murmur bye, How in these wilds with hopeless love 1 burn, Teach your lone vales and echoing caves to sigh, And mix my briny sorrows with your urn!
THE SAILOR BOY'S ADIEU.
The boatswain's shrill whistle piped all hands ahoy,
The word to weigh anchor was given;
His eyes were uplifted to heaven.
Or dread of the deep, that pervaded his feelings?
'Twas the throb of affection—'twas nature's appealings?
To home and to kindred he'd bidden farewell!
He strove his sensations to smother,
And he mused on the words of his mother! 'My hope is thy conduct, thy father is dead,
Be true to thy king, and ne'er shrink from thy duty; The furrows of age on my temples are spread,
Thy sister has nought but her virtue and beauty.'
The sailor boy's cheek was bedewed with a tear,
His messmates beheld his emotion;
It swelled with a loyal devotion.
His heart glowed with courage, all obstacles braving, From his neck his dear sister's last token he drew,
The pledge of her love, from the top gallant waving.
EXTRACT FROM CHILDE HAROLD.
Is thy face like thy mother's I my fair child!
But with a hope..,..
, Awaking with a start
The waters heave around me; and on high