No path leads thither, 'tis not nigh But cluster'd near the chattering brook, Those hollies of themselves a shape A close, round arbour; and it stands Within this arbour, which was still Were these three friends, one Sunday morn, 'Tis sweet to hear a brook, 'tis sweet To hear the Sabbath-bell, 'Tis sweet to hear them both at once Deep in a woody dell. His limbs along the moss, his head With shut-up senses, Edward lay : And he had pass'd a restless night, * Some hollies mark the spot.-1809. From the brook.-16. The women sat down by his side, "The Sun peeps through the close thick leaves, See, dearest Ellen! see! "Tis in the leaves, a little sun, No bigger than your ee; "A tiny sun, and it has got A perfect glory too; Ten thousand threads and hairs of light, Make up a glory gay and bright Round that small orb so blue." And then they argued of those rays, Says this, "They're mostly green ;” says that, "They're amber-like to me." So they sat chatting, while bad thoughts But soon they heard his hard quick pants, "A mother too!" these self-same words His face was drawn back on itself, Both groan'd at once, for both knew well When he waked up, and stared like one He sat upright; and ere the dream "O God, forgive me !" (he exclaim'd) Then Ellen shriek'd, and forthwith burst Into ungentle laughter; And Mary shiver'd, where she sat, And never she smiled after. Carmen reliquum in futurum tempus relegatum. To-morrow! and To-morrow! and To-morrow! THE NIGHT-SCENE. A DRAMATIC FRAGMENT. SANDOVAL. You loved the daughter of Don Manrique ? Earl Henry. Sandoval. Did you not say you woo'd her? Loved? Not loving Oropeza. True, I woo'd her, And when her sire, Met my advances with impassion'd pride, Of ancient feuds pour'd curses on my head, But thou art stern, and with unkindly countenance Sandoval. Anxiously, Henry reasoning anxiously. But Oropeza Earl Henry. Blessings gather round her! She, nothing trembling, led me through that gloom, Fragrant with flowering trees-I well remember me, To that sweet bower! Then Oropeza trembled— I heard her heart beat-if 'twere not my own. I have small memory of aught but pleasure. With the faint voice of one who, having spoken, Sandoval [with a sarcastic smile]. No other than as eastern sages paint, The God, who floats upon a lotos-leaf, Relapses into bliss. Earl Henry. Ah! was that bliss Fear'd as an alien, and too vast for man? For suddenly, impatient of its silence, Did Oropeza, starting, grasp my forehead. I caught her arms; the veins were swelling on them. Through the dark bower she sent a hollow voice ;"Oh! what if all betray me? what if thou? |