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I, too, o'er fancy's milky-way would rove,
But sadness chains to earth my pensive mind.
When by the huddling brooklet's secret brim
I pause, and woo the dreams of Helicon, Sudden my saddest thoughts revert to him (gone.
Who taught that brook to wind, and now is
When by the poets' sacred urns I kneel,
And rapture springs exultant to my reed, The pæan dies, and sadder measures steal,
And grief and Montague demand the meed.
Thou mongrel, who dost show thy teeth, and yelp,
And bay the harmless stranger on his way, Yet, when the wolf appears, dost roar for help,
And scamperest quickly from the bloody fray; Dare but on my fair fame to cast a slur,
And I will make thee know, unto thy pain, Thou vile old good-for-nothing cur !
I, a Laconian dog, can bite again: Yes, I can make the Daunian tiger flee, Much more a bragging, foul-mouth'd whelp like Beware Lycambes', or Bupalus' fateThe wicked still shall meet my deadly hate; And know, when once I seize upon my prey,
I do not languidly my wrongs bemoan; I do not whine and cant the time away,
[bone. But, with revengeful gripe, I bite him to the
TO THE MORNING STAR.
Many invoke pale Hesper's pensive sway,
And the last tinklings come
But me, bright harbinger of coming day,
Me, thou delightest more-
Let the poor silken sons of slothful pride
While visions of dismay
Be mine to view, awake to nature's charms,
As gradual day usurps
Mine, to snuff up the pure ambrozial breeze,
And mark his early flight
And thou, Hygeia, shalt my steps attend,
As on my restless bed
And slowly, by the taper's sickly gleam,
Strove through the veil of night
Thou, Health, shalt bless me in my early walk,
And feel the genial thrill
And as I mark the Cotter from his shed
Shalt steal into my breast,
Star of the morning! these, thy joys, I'll share,
While to thy blushing shrine
THE HERMIT OF THE PACIFIC;
OR, THE HORRORS OF UTTER SOLITUDE.
OH! who can paint the unspeakable dismay
Him, who by some Carvaggian waterfall
Sits frowning on the ever-falling wave,
Thou youthful pilgrim, whose untoward feet
Where noise intrudes not, save when in the cloud, Riding sublime, the storm roars fearfully, and loud.
Though man to man be as the ocean shark, Reckless, and unrelentingly severe; [dark, Though friendship's cloak must veil the purpose While the red poinard glimmers in the rear, Yet, is society most passing dear. [refined Though mix'd with clouds, its sunshine gleams Will through the glooms most pleasantly appear,
And soothe thee, when thy melancholy mind Must ask for comfort else of the loud pitiless wind.
Yet is it distant from the Muse's theme
In some low village's remote recess,
To heal the sick, and soothe the comfortless,
God unto men hath different powers assign'dThere be, who love the city's dull turmoil; There be, who, proud of an ambitious mind, From lonely Quiet's hermit-walks recoil: Leave thou these insects to their grov'lling toilThou, whom retired leisure best can please; For thee, the hazle copse's verdant aisle,
And summer bower, befitting studious ease, Prepare a keener bliss than they shall ever seize.
Lo, the grey morning climbs the eastern tower,
Where far below, hill, dale, and village spire, And brook, and mead, and wood, far from the sight
But what are these, forsaken and forlorn?