METHINKS how dainty sweet it were, reclined
Beneath the vast out-spreading branches high
Of some old wood, in careless sort to lie,
Nor of the busier scenes we left behind

Aught envying. And, O Anna! mild-eyed maid!
Beloved! I were well content to play
With thy free tresses all a summer's day,

Losing the time beneath the greenwood shade Or we might sit and tell some tender tale Of faithful vows repaid by cruel scorn, A tale of true love, or of friend forgot; And I would teach thee, lady, how to rail In gentle sort, on those who practise not Or love or pity, though of woman born.

As in those domes where Cæsars once bore sway
Defac'd by time, and tott'ring in decay,
There in the ruin, heedless of the dead,
The shelter-seeking peasant builds his shed;
And wondering man could want a larger pile,
Exults, and owns his cottage with a smile.

Goldsmith.

A WISH.

BY ROGERS.

MINE be a cot beside the hill;

A bee-hive's hum shall soothe my ear;
A willowy brook, that turns a mill,
With many a fall shall linger near.

The swallow, oft, beneath my thatch,
Shall twitter from her clay-built nest;
Oft shall the pilgrim lift the latch,
And share my meal, a welcome guest.

Around my ivied porch shall spring
Each fragrant flower that drinks the dew
And Lucy, at her wheel, shall sing
In russet gown and apron blue.

The village-church, among the trees,
Where first our marriage-vows were given,
With merry peals shall swell the breeze,
And point with taper-spire to heaven.

Her poverty was glad; her heart content,

Nor knew she what the spleen or vapour meant.

Dryden.

COURAGE.

He's truly valiant that can suffer

The worst that man can breathe; and make his wrongs

His outsides; to wear them like his raiment, carelessly;
And ne'er prefer his injuries to his heart,

To bring it into danger.

Shakespeare

Courage.

COURAGE.

BY BARRY CORNWALL.

COURAGE!-Nothing can withstand
Long a wronged, undaunted land;
If the hearts within her be
True unto themselves and thee,
Thou freed giant, Liberty!

Oh! no mountain-nymph art thou,
When the helm is on thy brow,
And the sword is in thy hand,
Fighting for thy own good land!

Courage!-Nothing e'er withstood
Freemen fighting for their good;
Armed with all their father's fame,
They will win and wear a name,
That shall go to endless glory,
Like the Gods of old Greek story,
Raised to heaven and heavenly worth,
For the good they gave to earth.

Courage! There is none so poor,
(None of all who wrong endure),