TO T. L. H.

A CHILD.

MODEL of thy parent dear,
Serious infant worth a fear:
In thy unfaultering visage well
Picturing forth the son of TELL,
When on his forehead, firm and good,
Motionless mark, the apple stood;
Guileless traitor, rebel mild,

Convict unconscious, culprit-child!
Gates that close with iron roar
Have been to thee thy nursery door;

Chains that chink in cheerless cells
Have been thy rattles and thy bells;
Walls contrived for giant, sin

Have hemmed thy faultless weakness in;
Near thy sinless bed black Guilt

Her discordant house hath built,

And filled it with her monstrous brood

Sights, by thee not understood

Sights of fear, and of distress,

That pass a harmless infant's guess!

But the clouds, that overcast
Thy young morning, may not last.
Soon shall arrive the rescuing hour,
That yields thee up to Nature's power.
Nature, that so late doth greet thee,
Shall in o'er-flowing measure meet thee.
She shall recompense with cost
For every lesson thou hast lost.

Then wandering up thy sire's lov'd hill,"
Thou shalt take thy airy fill

Of health and pastime. Birds shall sing
For thy delight each May morning.
'Mid new-yean'd lambkins thou shalt play,
Hardly less a lamb than they.

Then thy prison's lengthened bound

Shall be the horizon skirting round.

And, while thou fillest thy lap with flowers, To make amends for wintery hours,

Hampstead.

The breeze, the sunshine, and the place, Shall from thy tender brow efface

Each vestige of untimely care,

That sour restraint had graven there;

And on thy every look impress

A more excelling childishness.

So shall be thy days beguil'd,

THORNTON HUNT, my favourite child.

BALLAD.

FROM THE GERMAN.

THE clouds are blackening, the storms threat

ening,

And ever the forest maketh a moan:

Billows are breaking, the damsel's heart aching,
Thus by herself she singeth alone,
Weeping right plenteously.

"The world is empty, the heart is dead surely,
In this world plainly all seemeth amiss:
To thy breast, holy one, take now thy little one,
I have had earnest of all earth's bliss,

Living right lovingly."

DAVID IN THE CAVE OF ADULLAM.

DAVID and his three captains bold
Kept ambush once within a hold.
It was in Adullam's cave,

Nigh which no water they could have,

Nor spring, nor running brook was near
To quench the thirst that parch'd them there.
Then David, king of Israel,

Strait bethought him of a well,
Which stood beside the city gate,
At Bethlem; where, before his state
Of kingly dignity, he had

Oft drunk his fill, a shepherd lad;
But now his fierce Philistine foe
Encamp'd before it he does know.
Yet ne'er the less, with heat opprest,
Those three bold captains he addrest,
And wish'd that one to him would bring
Some water from his native spring.
His valiant captains instantly

To execute his will did fly.