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are tbere here celestial springs living waters, whence he drew?
ad here he suffer'd !-this recess
There even Nature fail'd to cheer, -as witness'd oft his deep distress,
nd precious drops have fallen here !
And scarcely dare she lift her eyes,
Tis her first grief -and it will fade
thoughts to heaven.
'Tis her first grief !-Motionless there
THE HOUSEHOLD SPANIEL.
Poor Oscar! how feebly thou crawl'st to the door,
Thy hairs now are silvered, thou hearest my voice,
At sunrise I waken'd to hear thy lov'd bark,
How then wouldst thou gambol and start from my feet,
On the moss-sprinkled stone if I sat for a space,
Then I was a schoolboy all thoughtless and free,
Thou bring'st to my mind all the pleasures of youth, When Hope was the mistress, not handmaid, of Truth ; When Earth look'd an Eden, when Joy's sunny hours Were cloudless, and Life's path besprinkled with flowers.
Now summer is fading, soon tempest and rain
Then thy grave shall be dug 'neath the old cherry-tree,
Tben all who caress'd thee, and loved, shall be laid,
Improvements will follow; old walls be thrown down ;
Frail things! could we read but the objects around,
Our fathers have pass'd, and are laid in the mould ;
THE WOUNDED FAWN.
Among the bed of lilies, I
Have sought it oft, where it should lie; MARVELL.
Yet could not, till itself should rise, The wanton troopers riding by,
Find it although before my eyes : Have shot my fawn, and it will die. For, in the flasen lilies' shade, Ungentle men! they cannot thrive
It like a band of lilies laid. Who killed thee: thou ne'er didst, alive,
Upon the roses it would feed, Them any harm : alas! nor could,
Until its lips e'en seem'd to bleed; Thy death yet do them any good.
And then to me would boldly trip, I'm sure I never wish'd them ill;
And print those roses on my lip. Nor do I for all this—nor will
But all its chief delight was still But, if my simple prayers may yet
On roses thus itself to fill; Prevail with Heaven to forget
And its pure virgin-limbs to fold
In whitest sheets of lilies cold.
The lark has sung his carol in the sky; Yet could they not be clean : their stain
The bees have hammed their noontide lulIs dy'd in such a purple grain.
laby. There is not such another in
Still in the vale the village-bells ring round, The world, to offer for their sin.
Still in Llewellen-hall the jests resound:
For now the caudle-cup is circling there, With sweetest milk, and sugar, first
Now, glad at heart, the gossips breathe their I it at my own fingers nurst;
prayer, And as it grew, so every day
And crowding, stop the cradle, to admire It waxed more white and sweet than they. | The Babe, the sleeping image of his Sire. It had so sweet a breath! and oft It blush'd to see its foot more soft
A few short years—and then these sounds And white, than-shall I say my hand ?
shall hail Nay, any lady's of the land.
The day again, and gladness fill the vale; It is a wondrous thing, how fleet
So soon the child a youth, the youth a man, 'Twas on those little silver feet !
Eager to run the race his fathers ran. With what a pretty skipping grace
Then the huge ox shall yield the broad sirIt oft would challenge me the race ; And when't had left me far away,
The ale, now brewed, in floods of ainber 'Twould stay, and run again, and stay :
shine : For it was nimbler much than hinds; And basking in the chimney's ample blaze And trod as if on the four winds.
Mid many a tale told of his boyish days,
« Twas on these knees he sate so oft and I have a garden of my own, But so with roses overgrown,
smiled.” And lilies, that you would it guess To be a little wilderness :
And soon again shall music swell the breeze ; And all the spring-time of the year
Soon, issuing forth, shall glitter through the It only loved to be there.
“ Cold blows the blast across the moor,
The sleet drives hissing in the wind: Yon toilsome mountain lies before,
A dreary, treeless waste behind.
Vesture of nuptial white; and hymns be
inng, And violets scattered round; and old and
young, In every cottage-porch, with garlands green, Stand still to gaze, and gazing, bless the
scene; While her dark eyes declining, by his side Moves in ber virgin-veil the gentle bride.
“ My eyes are weak and dim with age,
No road or path can I descry;
Of such a keen, inclement sky.
And once, alas! not in a distant hour, “ So faint I am—these tottering feet
And drifting snows my tomb prepare. And weepings heard, where only joy had been,
“Open your hospitable door, When by his children borne, and from his And shield me from the biting frost: door
Cold, cold it blows across the moor, Slowly departing to return no more,
The weary moor that I have cross'd." He rests in earth with them that went before.
With basty step the farmer ran,
And close beside the fire they place And such is Hgman Life, so gliding on, The poor half-frozen beggar-man, It glimmers like a meteor, and is gone! With shaking limbs, and blue-pale face.
Her presence-chamber once, but now her Now morning dawns; and thro' the yellow
tomb, While all around her palsied votaries sate, Yonder a pair go forth, betwixt a row Stunn'd by the leaden mace of the proud Of life-lorn houses ;-one ye see doth dog tyrant Fate.
The footsteps of the vther; and they go
For ever thus together; shrieks of wo
Sound to their ears sweet music.--Now the 'Twas midnight, and each door was closed;
Is PLA UE, as well er jaundice-eyes do Stood iron-featured watchmen; in their
And toad-like skin that scarce forbears to Were halberts,wberewithal upon the ground,
burst, Some one oft struck, as at his silent stand
As aye on the dank air she spits her venom Appalled he linger’d; and the garrulons
carsed. band Of echo answer'd quick, and bade his heart Be of good cheer; and every door thus Bebind, her meagre bridegroom Death mann'd
comes on; Was by a cross of blood-red set apart, Clutching his dart, he strides his pale, That none might enter there, nor any thence
His lank jaws chattering to her, who anon
her course And now a voice is heard ; and lo! a light An instant to respond his accents hoarse :
Gleams up the vista of yon narrow street; And as some dying wretch outstretched they And as it nears the gazer's straining sight,
see, Sharp yet indefinite sounds his ear first
Yawning and yelling they must e'en per greet;
force Then, more distinct the clank of horses' | Jeer at him as they pass; and in high glee, feet
In strain like this pursue their ghastly colIs beard ; and the red torch's smoky blaze
loquy. Doth o'er full many a livid carcass fleet, Which prone and nodding on the death-cart
“ They've digged us now," quoth Death, Jays;
“ without the wall Yet nought that hideous load the driver stern
A huge dry gulf; within whose gaping affrays.
Careless of knell, or prayer, or wonted pall, Hark! to his hollow tones :-" Bring forth
The living stow the dead-last night I saw
The burier tumble with the buried o'er And forth they bring their dead ;-the
The dizzy brink : methinks, a yoodlier sight father brings
I scarce behold, when Earthquake, and
red War, His last sweet child, and on the pile 'tis laid Next withered age: the brother coldly Harness their savage limbs; and in their flings
might; His sister there-self-love hath snapped The fear-pale nations scare with carnage and the strings
affright." Of the fond heart; no kindly thoughts remain.
" Good mate!” so quoth the beldame, Again the driver's hand the dead-bell rings
many a shore And the car rumbles onward; and again Hath yielded me repast, but none like this; The triple-tithe of Death, it gathers home But late, I went to mark how full a store amain.
Was gather'd to our garner; and ywis