Of grass, a wailful gnat, a bee bustling
Down in the blue bells, or a wren light rustling Among sere leaves and twigs, might all be heard.
O magic sleep! O comfortable bird,
That broodest o'er the troubled sea of the mind
Till it is hush'd and smooth! O unconfined
Restraint! imprison'd liberty! great key
To golden palaces, strange minstrelsy,
Fountains grotesque, new trees, bespangled caves,
Echoing grottoes full of tumbling waves
And moonlight; ay, to all the mazy world
Of silvery enchantment!--who, upfurl'd
Beneath thy drowsy wing a triple hour,
But renovates and lives?
UPON a rock that, high and sheer,
Rose from the mountain's breast,
A weary hunter of the deer
Had sat him down to rest,
And bared to the soft summer air
His hot red brow and sweaty hair.
All dim in haze the mountains lay,
With dimmer vales between ;
And rivers glimmer'd on their way,
By forests faintly seen;
While ever rose a murmuring sound,
From brooks below, and bees around.
He listen'd, till he seem'd to hear
A strain so soft and low,
That whether in the mind or ear
The listener scarce might know.
With such a tone, so sweet and mild,
The watching mother lulls her child.
"Thou weary huntsman," thus it said,
"Thou, faint with toil and heat,
The pleasant land of rest is spread
Before thy very feet,
And those whom thou wouldst gladly see
Are waiting there to welcome thee."
He look'd, and 'twixt the earth and sky,
Amid the noontide haze,
A shadowy region met his eye,
And grew beneath his gaze,
As if the vapours of the air
Had gather'd into shapes so fair.
Groves freshen'd as he look'd, and flowers
Show'd bright on rocky bank,
And fountains well'd beneath the bowers
Where deer and pheasant drank.
He saw the glittering streams, he heard
The rustling bough and twittering bird.
And friends-the dead-in boyhood dear,
There lived and walk'd again,
And there was one who many a year
Within her grave had lain,
A fair young girl, the hamlet's pride-
His heart was breaking when she died :
Bounding, as was her wont, she came
Right towards his resting-place,
And stretch'd her hand and call'd his name,
With that sweet smiling face.
Forward, with fix'd and eager eyes,
The hunter lean'd, in act to rise:
Forward, he lean'd, and headlong down
Plunged from that craggy wall:
He saw the rocks, steep, stern, and brown,
An instant in his fall;
A frightful instant-and no more,—
The dream and life at once were o'er.
Mrs. HEMANS, though too often indulging in the gorgeous, has many specimens of the sweet and simple. Such an one is this.
The Indians of Bengal, and of the coast of Malabar, bring cages filled with birds to the graves of their friends, over which they set the birds at liberty. This custom is alluded to in the description of Virginia's funeral. See Paul and Virginia.
Go forth, for she is gone!
With the golden light of her wavy hair,
She is gone to the fields of the viewless air:
She hath left her dwelling lone!
Her voice hath pass'd away!
It hath pass'd away like a summer breeze,
When it leaves the hills for the far blue seas,
Where we may not trace its
Go forth, and like her be free!
With thy radiant wing and thy glancing eye,
Thou hast all the range of the sunny sky:
And what is our grief to thee?
Is it aught even to her we mourn?
Doth she look on the tears by her kindred shed?
Doth she rest with the flowers o'er her gentle head,
Or float, on the light wind borne ?
We know not-but she is gone!
Her step from the dance, her voice from the song,
And the smile of her eye from the festal throng—
She hath left her dwelling lone!
FILIAL LOVE.
A fine passage from POPE.
BORN to no pride, inheriting no strife,
Nor marrying discord in a noble wife,
Stranger to civil and religious rage,
The good man walk'd innoxious through his age.
No courts he saw, no suits would ever try,
Nor dared an oath, nor hazarded a lie.
Unlearn'd, he knew no schoolman's subtle art,
No language but the language of the heart.
By nature honest, by experience wise;
Healthy by temperance and by exercise;
His life though long, to sickness pass'd unknown,
His death was instant, and without a groan.
O grant me thus to live, and thus to die!
Who sprung from kings shall know less joy than I.
O friend, may each domestic joy be thine!
Be no unpleasing melancholy mine;
Me let the tender office long engage,
To rock the cradle of reposing age,
With lenient arts extend a mother's breath,
Make languor smile, and smooth the bed of death,
Explore the thought, explain the asking eye,
And keep a-while one parent from the sky!
PROCTER, alias BARRY CORNWALL, one of the best of English lyrical poets, to whose volumes we have often referred for contributions to these selections, now offers to our readers a glorious, spirit-stirring song, music in words, on a theme perfectly novel; and mark how genius can mould the most unpromising one!
OH! who would be bound to the barren sea,
If he could dwell on land,
Where his step is ever both firm and free,
Where flowers arise,
Like sweet girls' eyes,
And rivulets sing
Like birds in spring ?--
For me, I will take my stand
On land, on land!
For ever and ever on solid land!
I've sail'd on the riotous roaring sea,
With an undaunted band:
Yet my village home more pleaseth me,
With its valley gay
Where maidens stray,
And its grassy mead
Where the white flocks feed ;-
I will take my stand
On land, on land!
For ever and ever on solid land!
Some swear they could die on the salt salt sea!
(But have they been loved on land ?)
Some rave of the ocean in drunken glee,-
Of the music born
On a gusty morn,
When the tempest is waking,
And billows are breaking,
And lightning flashing,
And the thick rain dashing,
And the winds and the thunders
Shout forth the sea wonders!
--Such things may give joy
To a dreaming boy;--
But for me,--I will take my stand
On land, on land!
For ever and ever on solid land!
A spirited poem by J. C. PRINCE, a poet sprung from the people.
They who have scorn'd the tyrant and his rod,
And bow'd in worship unto none but God ;
They who have made the conqueror's glory dim-
Unchain'd in soul, though manacled in limb--
Unwarp'd by prejudice-unawed by wrong,
Friends to the weak, and fearless of the strong:
They who could change not with the changing hour,
The self-same men in peril and in power;
True to the law of right, as warmly prone
To grant another's as maintain their own;
Foes of oppression wheresoe'er it be :-
These are the proudly free!
Who are the great?
Those who have boldly ventured to explore
Unsounded seas, and lands unknown before-
Soar'd on the wings of science, wide and far,
Measured the sun, and weigh'd each distant star-
Pierced the dark depths of ocean and of earth,
And brought uncounted wonders into birth--
Repell'd the pestilence, restrain'd the storm,
And given new beauty to the human form-
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