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Note 20, page 4, col. 1.
She tells of time misspent, of comfort lost,
or fair occasions gore for ever by; Sweet bird ! thy truth shall Haarlem's walls attest.
Or hopes too fondly nursed, too rudely crossid,
of many a cause to wish, yet fear to die; During the siege of Haarlem, when that city was
For what, except th' instinctive fear reduced to the last extremity, and on the point of
Lest she survive, detains me here, opening its gates to a base and barbarous enemy, a
When "all the life of life" is fled ?
What, but the deep inherent dread, design was formed to relieve it; and the intelligence
Lest she beyond the grave resume her reign, was conveyed to the citizens by a letter which was And realize the hell that priests and beldams seign? tied under the wing of a pigeon.—THUANUS, lib. lv.
Note 25, page 6, col. 1. c. 5.
Hast thou through Eden's wild-wood vales pursued. The same messenger was employed at the siege of Mutina, as we are informed by the elder Pliny.- there stands a small pillar with this inscription :
On the road-side, between Penrith and Appleby, Hist. Nat. x, 37
“ This pillar was erected in the year 1656, by Ann Note 21, page 4, col. 2.
Countess-Dowager of Pembroke, etc. for a memoria! Hark! the bee, etc.
of her last parting, in this place, with her good and This little animal, from the extremo convexity of berland, on the 2d of April, 1616; in memory where
pious mother, Margaret, Countess-Dowager of Cum. her eye, cannot see many inches before her.
of she hath left an annuity of 41. to be distributed to Note 22, page 5, col. 1.
the poor of the parish of Brougham, every 2d day
of April for ever, upon the stone-table placed hard These still exist, etc.
by. Laus Deo!" There is a future Existence even in this world, an The Eden is the principal river of Cumberland Existence in the hearts and minds of those who shall and rises in the wildest part of Westmoreland., live after us. It is in reserve for every man, how
Note 26, page 6, col. 1. ever obscure; and his portion, is he be diligent, must
O'er his dead son the gallant Ormond sigh'd. be equal to his desires For in whose remembrance can we wish to hold a place, but such as know, and though he ever retained a pleasing, however melan:
Ormond bore the loss with patience and dignity: are known by us? These are within the sphere of our influence, and among these and their descend. choly, sense of the signal merit of Ossory. “I would
not exchange my dead son," said he, “ for any living ants we may live evermore.
son in Christendom."—HUME. It is a state of rewards and punishments; and, like
The same sentiment is inscribed on Miss Dolman's that revealed to us in the Gospel, has the happiest influence on our lives. The latter excites us to gain reliquis versari, quam tui meminisse!"
urn at the Leasowes. • Heu, quanto minus est cum the favor of God, the former to gain the love and esteem of wise and good men; and both lead to the
Note 27, page 6, col. 2. same end; for, in framing our conceptions of the High on exulting wing the heath-eock rose. Deity, we only ascribe to Ilim exalted degrees of This bird is remarkable for his exultation during Wisdom and Goodness.
the spring. Note 23, page 5, col. 2.
Note 28, page 6, col. 2.
Derwent's clear mirror.
Keswick-Lake in Cumberland.
Note 29, page 7, col. 2. in Hogarth's view of Bedlam, is an admirable ex
Down by St. Herbert's consecrated grove. emplification of this idea.–See the Rake's Progress,
A small island covered with trees, among which plate 8..
were formerly the ruins of a religious house.
Note 30, page 7, col. 2.
When lo: a sudden blast the vessel blew. The following stanzas are said to have been writ. In a lake surrounded with mountains, the agitalen on a blank leaf of this Poem. They present so tions are often violent and momentary. The winds affecting a reverse of the picture, that I cannot resist blow in gusts and eddies; and the water no sooner the opportunity of introducing them here.
swells, ihan it subsides.—See Bourn's Hisl. of WestPleasures of Memory !-oh! supremely blest,
Note 31, page 7, col. 2.
To what pure beings, in a nobler sphere.
The several degrees of angels may probably have
larger views, and some of them be endowed with Memory makes her influence known By nighs, and tears, and grief alone :
capacities able to retain together and constantly sot I greet her as the fiend, to whom belong
before them, as in one picture, all their past know. 'The vulture's ravening beak, the raven's funeral song. ledge at once.—LOCKE
Yet, all forgot, how oft the eye-lids close, Introduction-Ringing of bells in a neighboring Vil- How oft, as dead, on the warm turf we lie,
And from the slack hand drops the gather'd rose! lage on the birth of an heir—General Reflections while many an eminet comes with curious eye; on Human Life— The Subject proposed-Child. And on her nest the watchful wren sits by! hood-Youth—Manhood-Love-Marriage--Do
Nor do we spcak or move, or hear or see; mestic Happiness and Amiction—War—Peace - So like what once we were, and once again shall bo' Civil Dissension-Retirement from active Life
And say, how soon, where, blithe as innocent, Old Age and its Enjoyments—Conclusion.
The boy at sun-rise whistled as he went,
An aged pilgrim on his staff shall lean, The lark has sung his carol in the sky : Tracing in vain the footsteps o'er the green; The bees have humm'd their noon-tide lullaby. The man himself how alter'd, not the scene! Still in the vale the village-bells ring round, Now journeying home with nothing but the name : Still in Llewellyn-hall the jests resound:
Wayworn and spent, another and the same !
No eye observes the growth or the decay:
And we shall look to-morrow as to-day :
Yet while the loveliest smiles, her locks grow grey'
After some years of travel, some of war,
And such is Human Life, the general theme. 'Mid many a tale told of his boyish days,
Ah, what at best, what but a longer dream? The nurse shall cry, of all her ills beguiled, Though with such wild romantic wanderings fraught, * 'T was on these knees he sate so oft and smiled.” Such forms in Fancy's richest coloring wrought,
And soon agein shall music swell the breeze; That, like the visions of a love-sick brain, Soon, issuing forth, shall glitter through the trees Who would not sleep and dream them o'er again? Vestures of nuptial white; and hymns be sung, Our pathway leads but to a precipice ;(1) And violets scatter'd round; and old and young, And all must follow, fearful as it is! In every cottage-porch with garlands green, From the first step 't is known; but—No delay! Stand still to gaze, and, gazing, bless the scene ; On, 't is decreed. We tremble and obey. While, her dark eyes declining, by his side
A thousand ills beset us as we go. Moves in her virgin-veil the gentle bride.
-“ Still, could I shun the fatal gulf"-- Ah, no, And once, alas, nor in a distant hour,
'Tis all in vain-the inexorable law! Another voice shall come from yonder tower; Nearer and nearer to the brink we draw. When in dim chambers long black weeds are seen, Verdure springs up; and fruits and flowers invite; And weepings heard where only joy has been; And groves and fountains—all things that delight, When by his children borne, and from his door "Oh I would stop, and linger if I might!”— Slowly departing to return no more,
We fly; no resting for the foot we find; (2) He rests in holy earth with them that went before. And dark before, all desolate behind!
And such is Human Life ; so gliding on, At length the brink appears—but one step more! It glimmers like a meteor, and is gone!
We faint-On, on we falter—and 'tis o'er! Yet is the tale, brief though it be, as strange,
Yet here high passions, high desires unfold, As full, methinks, of wild and wondrous change, Prompting to noblest deeds; here links of gold As any that the wandering tribes require, Bind soul to soul; and thoughts divine inspire Stretch'd in the desert round their evening-fire ; A thirst unquenchable, a holy fire As any sung of old in hall or bower
That will not, cannot but with life expire!
Born in a trance, we wake, observe, inquire; Now distant ages, like a day, explore,
Or, in a thankless hour condemn'd to live,
From others claim what these refuse to give,
Through the dim curtains of Futurity. (3)
Behold him now unbar the prison-door,
Watch o'er his slumbers like the brooding dove, And, lifting Guilt, Contagion from the foor,
And, if she can, exhaust a mother's love! To Peace and Ilealth, and Light and Life restore ; But soon a nobler task demands her care. Now in Thermopylæ remain to share
Apart she joins his little hands in prayer,
And now the volume on her knee has caught
Never to die, with many a lisping sweet
His moving, murmuring lips endeavor to repeat. Pleading, insisting in his place to die!
Released, he chases the bright butterfly ; Do what he will, he cannot realize
Oh he would follow4follow through the sky! Half he conceives—the glorious vision flies. Climbs the gaunt mastiff slumbering in his chain, Go where he may, he cannot hope to find
And chides and buffets, clinging by the mane; The truth, the beauty pictured in his mind. | Then runs, and, kneeling by the fountain-side, But if by chance an object strike the sense,
Sends his brave ship in triumph down the tide, The faintest shadow of that Excellence,
A dangerous voyage; or, if now he can,
If now he wears the habit of a man,
And, like a miser digging for his treasure,
His tiny spade in his own garden plies, Lying too deep for things that perish here, And in green letters sees his name arise! Waiting for life-but in a nobler sphere !
Where'er he goes, for ever in her sight,
She looks, and looks, and still with new delight! Look where he comes ! Rejoicing in his birth,
Ah who, when fading of itself away,
Would cloud the sunshine of his little day!
Now is the May of Life. Careering round,
Joy wings his feet, Joy lifts him from the ground ! With him it came (it was not of the day)
Pointing to such, well might Cornelia say,
When the rich casket shone in bright array,
These are my Jewels!" (7) Well of such as he,
When Jesus spake, well might his language be, And in his darkness as he journeys on,
“Suffer these little ones to come to me!" (8) Nothing revives him but the blessed ray
Thoughtful by fits, he scans and he reveres That now breaks in, nor ever knows decay,
The brow engraven with the Thoughts of Years; (9) Sent from a better world 10 light him on his way.
Close by her side his silent homage given
As to some pure Intelligence from Heaven; How great the Mystery! Let others sing
His eyes cast downward with ingenuous shame, The circling Year, the promise of the Spring,
His conscious cheeks, conscious of praise or blame, The Summer's glory, and the rich repose
At once lit up as with a holy flame! Of Autumn, and the Winter's silvery snows.
He thirsts for knowledge, speaks but to inquire ; Man through the changing scene let me pursue,
And soon with tears relinquish'd to the Sire, Himself how wondrous in his changes too!
Soon in his hand to Wisdom's temple led, Not Man the sullen savage in his den;
Holds secret converse with the Mighty Dead;
Like Her most gentle, most unfortunate, (10)
And all in green array were chasing down the sun'
Her oy her smile how soon the Stranger knows; Who breathe the soul of Inspiration round,
Ah, then comes thronging many a wild desire,
As in the Cave athwart the Wizard's glass;
Lo the Black Warrior, he, who, battle-spent, “ Am I awake? or is it can it be
-That strain,” she cries, “ as from the water rove
Comes forth and speaks and bids her lover stay. Scenes such as Milton sought, but sought in vain:(12) Still, like aërial music heard from far, And Milton's self (13) (at that thrice-honored name Nightly it rises with the evening-star. Well may we glow--as men, we share his fame) She loves another! Love was in that sigh!" And Milton's self, apart with beaming eye, On the cold ground he throws himself to die. Planning he knows not what—that shall not die! Fond Youth, beware. Thy heart is most deceiving. Oh in thy truth secure, thy virtue bold,
Who wish are fearful; who suspect, believing. Beware the poison in the cup of gold,
-And soon her looks the rapturous truth avow The asp among the flowers. Thy heart beats high, Lovely before, oh, say how lovely now! (15) As bright and brighter breaks the distant sky!
She flies not, frowns not, though he pleads his cause; But every step is on enchanted ground; Nor yet--nor yet her hand from his withdraws, Danger thou lovesi, and Danger haunts thee round. But by some secret Power surprised, subdued Who spurs his horse against the mountain-side; Falls on his neck as half unconscious where,
(Ah how resist? Nor would she if she could), Then, plunging, slakes his fury in the tide ? Draws, and cries ho; and, where the sun-beams fall, Glad to conceal her tears, her blushes there.
Then come those full confidings of the past ; At his own shadow thrusts along the wall?
All sunshine now where all was overcast.
Then do they wander till the day is gone,
Lost in each other; and when Night steals on, Glides in the moon-shine by a maiden's grave ?
Covering them round, how sweet her accents are !
Oh when she turns and speaks, her voice is far, Come hither, boy, and clear thy open brow :
Far above singing !-But soon nothing stirs fon summer-clouds, now like the Alps, and now
To break the silence-Joy like his, like hers, A ship, a whale, change not so fast as thou. He hears me not-- Those sighs were from the heart; Now in the glimmering, dying light she grows
Deals not in words : and now the shadows close, foo, too well taught, he plays the lover's part.
Less and less earthly! As deparls the day He who at masques, nor feigning nor sincere,
that was mortal seems to melt away, With sweet discourse would win a lady's ear,
Till, like a gift resumed as soon as given, Lie at her feet, and on her slipper swear
She fades at last into a Spirit from Heaven! That none were half so faultless, balf so fair,
Then are they blest indeed ; and swift the hours Now through the forest hies, a stricken deer,
Till her young Sisters wreathe her hair in flowers A banish'd man, Aying when none are near ;
Kindling her beauty-while, unseen, the least And writes on every tree, and lingers long
Twitches her robe, then runs behind the rest, Where inost the nightingale repeats her song ;
Known by her laugh that will not be suppressid Where most the nymph, that haunts the silent grove, Then before All they stand—the holy vow Delights to syllable the names we love.
And ring of gold, no fond illusions now, Two on his steps attend, in motley clad;
Bind her as his. Across the threshold led, One woeful-wan, one merrier yet as mad;
And every tear kiss'd off as soon as shed, Called Hope and Fear. Hope shakes his cap and bells, His house she enters—there to be a light, And flowers spring up among the woodland dells.
Shining within, when all without is night; TJ Hope he listens, wandering without measure
A guardian-angel o'er his life presiding, Through sun and shade, lost in a trance of pleasure; Doubling his pleasures, and his cares dividing , And, if to Fear but for a weary mile,
Winning him back, when mingling in the throng, Hope follows fast and wins him with a smile.
Back from a world we love, alas, too long, At length he goes—a Pilgrim to the Shrine, To fire-side happiness, to hours of ease, And for a relic would a world resign!
Blest with that charm, the certainty to please. A glove, a shoe-tie, or a flower let fall
How oft her eyes read his; her gentle mind What though the least, Love consecrates them all! To all his wishes, all his thoughts inclined; And now he breathes in many a plaintive verse; Still subject-ever on the watch to borrow Now wins the dull ear of the wily nurse
Mirth of his mirth, and sorrow of his sorruw At early matins ('t was at matin-time (14)
The soul of music slumbers in the shell, That first he saw and sickend in his prime), Till waked and kindled by the master's spell Ind soon the Sibyl, in her thirst for gold, And feeling hearts-touch them but rightly, pour lays with young hearts that will not be controll'a. A thousand melodies unheard before! (16)
"Absence from Thoe-as self from self it seems!' Nor many moons o'er hill and valley rise Scaled is the garden-wall! and lo, her beams Ere to the gate with nymph-like step she flies, Silvering the east, the moon comes up, revealing And their first-born holds forth, their darling boy, His well-known form along the terrace stealing. With smiles how sweet, how full of love and joy -Oh, ere in sight he came, 't was his to thrill To meet him coming; theirs through every year A heart that loved him though in secret still. | Pure transports, such as each to each endear!
And langhing eyes and laughing voices fill Whispers and sigłıs, and smiles all tenderness
Such grief was ours—it seems but yesterday
When in ihy prime, wishing so much to stay, Gleams, and the wood sends up its harmony,
'T was thine, Maria, thine without a sigh When, gathering round his bed, they climb to share At midnight in a Sister's arms to die! Ilis kisses, and with gentle violence there
Oh thou wert lovely-lovely was thy frame, Break in upon a dream not half so fair,
And pure thy spirit as from Heaven it can.e! Up to the hill-top leads their little feet;
And, when recall'd to join the blest above, Or by the forest-lodge, perchance to meet
Thou diedst a victim to exceeding love, The stag-herd on its march, perchance to hear
Nursing the young to health. In happier hours, 'The otter rustling in the sedgy mere;
When idle Fancy wove luxuriant flowers, Or to the echo near the Abbot's treo,
Once in thy mirth thou bad'st me write on thee; That gave him back his words of pleasantry
And now I write-what thou shalt never see! When the House stood, no merrier man than he!
At length the Father, vain his power to save, And, as they wander with a keen delight,
Follows his child in silence to the grave, If but a leve it catch their quicker sight
(That child how cherish’d, whom he would not give Down a green alley, or a squirrel then
Sleeping the sleep of death, for all that live!)
Takes a last look, when, not unheard, the spade
Scatters the earth as “dust to dust" is said,
Takes a last look and goes; his best relief These with unequal footsteps following fast,
Consoling others in that hour of griet, These clinging by his cloak, unwilling to be last.
And with sweet tears and gentle words infusing The shepherd on Tomaro's misty brow, The holy calm that leads to heavenly musing. And the swart sea-man, sailing far below,
-But hark, the din of arms! no time for sorrow Not undelighted watch the morning ray
To horse, io horse! A day of blood to-morrow! Purpling the orient—ill it breaks away,
One parung pang, and then—and then I fly, And burns and blazes into glorious day!
Fly to the field, to triumph-or to die! But happier still is he who bends to trace
He goes, and Night comes as it never came! (17) That sun, the soul, just dawning in the face;
With shrieks of horror and a vault of fame!
And lo! when morning mocks the desolate,
Breathless a horse without his rider stands!
And oh the smiles and tears, a sire restored!
One wears his helm, one buckles on his sword;
Such golden deeds lead on to golden days,
Days of domestic peace—by him who plays
Such as the heart delights in-and records
On the fresh herbage near the fountain-head
What time the king-fisher sits perch'd below,
Where, silver-bright, the water-lilies blow :-
Black hoods and scarlet crossing hill and dale,