Brook! whose society the Poet seeks Thus reading, hymning, all alone, unseen, The shepherd boy the Sabbath holy keeps Following the fancies in his head, And then, when he was brought to land, Full sure they were a happy band The pliant bow he form'd, the flying ball Sends inspiration from the shadowy heights And blind recesses of the caverned rocks All Nature feels her renovating sway, The sheep-fed pasture, and the meadow gay And see the Children sport upon the shore, And hear the mighty waters rolling evermore Abrupt and horrid as the tempest roars, Thunder and flash upon the steadfast shores In this still place, remote from men, Sleeps Ossian, in the Narrow Glen Sporting with the leaves that fall Bring all the four into the woods- Or seek at noon the woodland scene remote Where twilight loves to linger for a while And her alone he loved, and loved her from a child To deep untrodden groves his footsteps led Beneath the precipice o'erhung with pine In darkness and in storm he found delight And oft the craggy cliff he loved to climb Is yonder wave the sun's eternal bed? The rainbow brightens to the setting sun! Lingering and listening, wandered down the vale And there let Fancy rove at large. Crowned with her pail the tripping milkmaid sings The lowing herd; the sheepfold's simple bell Save when against the winter's drenching rain, A HOLY-DAY--the frugal banquet spread On the fresh herbage near the fountain head, With quips and cranks-what time the wood-lark there Scatters her loose notes on the sultry air. 1 THE SUN. MOST glorious art thou! when from thy pavilion Brightening the mountain cataract, dimly spied Through glittering mist; opening each dew-gemm'd flower, Or touching, in some hamlet, far descried, Its spiral wreaths of smoke that upward tower, Where birds their matin sing from many a leafy bower. And more magnificent art thou, bright Sun! Even to the centre of the vaulted sky, Thy beams pervade the heavens, and o'er them shed Hues indescribable-of gorgeous dye, Making among the clouds mute glorious pageantry. Then, then how beautiful across the deep The eye, unsated in its own despite, Over the waters seems a pathway bright For holiest thoughts to travel, there to pay Man's homage unto Him who bade thee "rule the Day." BARTON, |