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The jay, the pie, and even the boding owl,
That hails the rising moon, have charms for me.
Sounds in harmonious in themselves, and harsh,
Yet heard in scenes where peace for ever reigns,
And only there, please highly for their sake.
COWPER.—[From "The Task."]
Here's a Health to Ane y lo'e dear.
HERE 's a health to ane I lo'e dear,
Here 's a health to ane I lo'e dear;
Thou art sweet as the smile when fond lovers meet,
And soft as their parting tear-Jessy!
Although thou maun never be mine,
Although even hope is denied ; 'T is sweeter for thee despairing,
Than aught in the world beside-Jessy !
I mourn through the gay, gaudy day,
As hopeless I muse on thy charms; But welcome the dream o'sweet slumber,
For then I am locked in thy arms—Jessy!
I guess by the dear angel-smile,
I guess by the love-rolling e'e : But why urge the tender confession,
'Gainst Fortune's fell, cruel decree---Jessy!
Scenes of Youth re-visited.
Colle, che mi piacesti,
Ov' ancor per usanza Amor mi mena;
Ben riconosco in voi l' usate forme,
Non, lasso, in me.
Twilight's soft dews steal o'er the village green,
With magic tints to harmonise the scene.
Stilled is the hum that through the hamlet broke,
When round the ruins of their ancient oak
The peasants flocked to hear the minstrel play,
And games and carols closed the busy day.
Her wheel at rest, the matron thrills no more
With treasured tales and legendary lore.
All, all are fled; nor mirth nor music flows
To chase the dream of innocent repose.
All, all are fled; yet still I linger here!
What secret charms this silent spot endear?
old mansion frowning through the trees,
Whose hollow turret wooes the whistling breeze.
That casement, arched with ivy's brownest shade,
First to these eyes the light of heaven conveyed,
The mouldering gateway strews the grass-grown court,
Once the calm scene of many a simple sport;
When nature pleased, for life itself was new,
And the heart promised what the fancy drew.
See, through the fractured pediment revealed,
Where moss inlays the rudely sculptured shield,
The martin's old, hereditary nest,
Long may the ruin spare its hallowed guest !
As jars the hinge, what sullen echoes call !
Oh haste, unfold the hospitable hall !
That hall, where once, in antiquated state,
The chair of justice held the grave debate,
Now stained with dews, with cobwebs darkly hung,
Oft has its roof with peals of rapture rung;
When round yon ample board, in due degree,
We sweetened every meal with social glee.
The heart's light laugh pursued the circling jest ;
And all was sunshine in each little breast.
’T was here we chased the slipper by the sound;
And turned the blindfold hero round and round.
'T was here, at eve, we formed our fairy ring,
And fancy fluttered on her wildest wing.
Giants and genii chained each wondering ear ;
And orphan-sorrows drew the ready tear.
Oft with the babes we wandered in the wood,
Or viewed the forest-feats of Robin Hood :
Oft, fancy-led, at midnight's fearful hour,
With startling step we scaled the lonely tower ;
O'er infant innocence to hang and weep,
Murdered by ruffian hands, when smiling in its sleep.
Ye Household Deities! whose guardian eye Marked each pure thought, ere registered on high ;
Still, still ye walk the consecrated ground,
And breathe the soul of Inspiration round.
As o'er the dusky furniture I bend,
Each chair awakes the feelings of a friend.
The storied arras, source of fond delight,
With old achievement charms the wildered sight,
And still, with Heraldry's rich hues imprest,
On the dim window glows the pictured crest.
The screen unfolds its many-coloured chart.
The clock still points its moral to the heart.
That faithful monitor 't was heaven to hear,
When soft it spoke a promised pleasure near;
And has its sober hand, its simple chime,
Forgot to trace the feathered feet of time?
That massive beam, with curious carvings wrought,
Whence the caged linnet soothed my pensive thought;
Those muskets, cased with venerable rust;
Those once-loved forms, still breathing through their dust,
Still, from the frame in mould gigantic cast,
Starting to life—all whisper of the past !
As through the garden's desert paths I rove,
What fond illusions swarm in every grove!
How oft, when purple evening tinged the west, ,
We watched the emmet to her grainy nest;
Welcomed the wild-bee home on weary wing,
Laden with sweets, the choicest of the Spring !
How oft inscribed, with Friendship’s votive rhyme,
The bark now silvered by the touch of Time ;
Soared in the swing, half pleased and half afraid,
Through sister elms that waved their summer shade;
Or strewed with crumbs yon root-inwoven seat,
To lure the redbreast from his lone retreat!
Childhood's loved group revisits every scene;
The tangled wood-walk, and the tufted green !
Indulgent MEMORY wakes, and lo, they live!
Clothed with far softer hues than Light can give.
Thou first, best friend that Heaven assigns below
To soothe and sweeten all the cares we know;
Whose glad suggestions still each vain alarm,
When nature fades, and life forgets to charm;
Thee would the Muse invoke !-to thee belong
The sage's precept and the poet's song.
What softened views thy magic glass reveals,
When o'er the landscape Time's meek twilight steals!
As when in ocean sinks the orb of day,
Long on the wave reflected lustres play;
Thy tempered gleams of happiness resigned
Glance on the darkened mirror of the mind
The School's lone porch, with reverend mosses grey,
Just tells the pensive pilgrim where it lay.
Mute is the bell that rung at peep of dawn,
Quickening my truant-feet across the lawn;
Unheard the shout that rent the noon-tide air,
When the slow dial gave a pause to care.
Up springs, at every step, to claim a tear,
Some little friendship formed and cherished here;
And not the slightest leaf, but trembling teems ·
With golden visions, and romantic dreams!
ROGERS.-[From "The Pleasures of Memory.")