For all seem'd guilt, remorse or woe, So two nights pass'd: the night's dismay The third night, when my own loud scream And having thus by tears subdued The unfathomable hell within, And whom I love, I love indeed. COLERIDGE. B' THE SKYLARK. IRD of the wilderness, Blithesome and cumberless, Sweet be thy matin o'er moorland and lea! Emblem of happiness, Blest is thy dwelling-place O to abide in the desert with thee! Wild is thy lay and loud, Far in the downy cloud, Love gives it energy, love gave it birth. Where art thou journeying? Thy lay is in heaven, thy love is on earth. O'er fell and fountain sheen, O'er moor and mountain green, Over the rainbow's rim, Musical cherub, soar singing away! Then, when the gloaming comes, Sweet will thy welcome and bed of love be! Blest is thy dwelling-place O to abide in the desert with thee! JAMES HOGG. "W EDWARD, EDWARD. [OLD BALLAD.] HY does your brand sae drap wi' blude, Why does your brand sae drap wi' blude, And why sae sad gang ye, O?" “O, I hae kill'd my hawk sae gude, Mither, mither : O, I hae kill'd my hawk sae gude: "Your hawk's blude was never sae red, Edward, Edward: Your hawk's blude was never sae red, 66 My dear son, I tell thee, O." O, I hae kill'd my red-roan steed, Mither, mither: O, I hae kill'd my red-roan steed, That carried me fair and free, O." "'Gin your steed be gane, ye hae plenty mair, 'Gin your steed be gane, ye hae plenty mair; 66 Mither, mither: O, I hae kill'd my father dear, "And whatten penance will ye dree for that, Edward, Edward ? And whatten penance will ye dree for that? My dear son, now tell me, O." "I'll set my feet in yonder boat, Mither, mither: I'll set my feet in yonder boat, "And what will ye do wi' your towers and your ha', Edward, Edward? And what will ye do wi' your towers and your ha', That were sae fair to see, O?" "I'll let them stand till they doun fa', Mither, mither: I'll let them stand till they doun fa'; For here never mair maun I be, O." “And what will ye leave to your bairns and your wife, Edward, Edward? And what will ye leave to your bairns and your wife, When you gang over the sea, O?” "The warld's room : let them beg through life, Mither, mither: The warld's room: let them beg through life; "And what will ye leave to your ain mither dear, Edward, Edward? And what will ye leave to your ain mither dear? My dear son, now tell me, O." "The curse of hell frae me shall ye bear, Mither, mither! The curse of hell frae me shall ye bear, Sic counsels ye gave to me, O!" PERCY'S Reliques. N ODE ON MELANCHOLY. O, no! go not to Lethe, neither twist Nor suffer thy pale forehead to be kiss'd Nor let the beetle, nor the death-moth be For shade to shade will come too drowsily, And drown the wakeful anguish of the soul. But when the melancholy fit shall fall She dwells with Beauty-Beauty that must die; And Joy, whose hand is ever at his lips Bidding adieu; and aching Pleasure nigh, Turning to poison while the bee-mouth sips: Ay, in the very temple of Delight Veil'd Melancholy has her sovran shrine, Though seen of none save him whose strenuous tongue Can burst Joy's grape against his palate fine; KEATS. T SONNET. THE TROSACHS. HERE'S not a nook within this solemn Pass But were an apt confessional for One Taught by his summer spent, his autumn gone, That Life is but a tale of morning grass Wither'd at eve. From scenes of art which chase That thought away, turn, and with watchful eyes |