green,

No brook to wet his lip or soothe his ear; Long files of corn-stacks here and there

were seen,

But not one dwelling-place his heart to cheer.

Death's minister; then came his glad release,

And hope returned, and pleasure fondly made

Her dwelling in his dreams. By Fancy's aid

be near;

And so he sent a feeble shout-in vain ;
No voice made answer, he could only hear
Winds rustling over plots of unripe grain,
Or whistling thro' thin grass along the un-
furrowed plain.

Round his wife's neck; the prize of victory laid

In her full lap, he sees such sweet tears flow

As if thenceforth nor pain nor trouble she could know.

leave we took.