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Thence down the steep a pile of grass he throws,
The fodder of his herds in winter snows.

Far different life to what tradition hoar
Transmits of days more blest in times of yore:
Then summer lengthen'd out his season bland,
And with rock-honey flow'd the happy land.
Continual fountains welling cheer'd the waste,
And plants were wholesome, now of deadly taste.
Nor winter yet his frozen stores had piled,
Usurping where the fairest herbage smiled;
Nor hunger forced the herds from pastures bare,
For scanty food the treacherous cliffs to dare.
Then the milk-thistle bade those herds demand
Three times a day the pail and welcome hand.
But human vices have provoked the rod
Of angry Nature to avenge her God.
Thus does the father to his sons relate,

On the lone mountain-top, their changed estate.
Still, Nature, ever just, to him imparts
Joys only given to uncorrupted hearts.
When downward to his winter hut he goes,
Dear and more dear the lessening circle grows;
That hut which from the hills his eyes employs
So oft, the central point of all his joys.
Where, safely guarded by the woods behind,
He hears the chiding of the baffled wind.
Hears winter, calling all his terrors round,

Rush down the living rocks with whirlwind sound.
Through Nature's vale his homely pleasures glide,
Unstain'd by envy, discontent, and pride,
The bound of all his vanity to deck,

With one bright bell a favourite heifer's neck;
Content upon some simple annual feast,
Remember'd half the year and hoped the rest,
If dairy produce, from his inner hoard
Of thrice ten summers consecrate the board.

Gay lark of hope, thy silent song resume!
Fair smiling lights the purpled hills illume!
Soft gales and dews of life's delicious morn,
And thou, lost fragrance of the heart, return!
Soon flies the little joy to man allow'd,
And grief before him travels like a cloud:
For come diseases on and penury's rage,
Labour, and Care, and Pain, and dismal Age,
Till, hope-deserted, long in vain his breath
Implores the dreadful untried sleep of death.
-'Mid savage rocks, and seas of snow that shine
Between interminable tracts of pine,

A temple stands; which holds an awful shrine,
By an uncertain light reveal'd, that falls
On the mute image and the troubled walls:
Pale, dreadful faces round the shrine appear,
Abortive joy, and hope that works in fear;

While strives a secret power to hush the crowd,
Pain's wild rebellious burst proclaims her rights aloud.
Oh! give me not that eye of hard disdain
That views undimm'd Ensiedlen's* wretched fane.
'Mid muttering prayers all sounds of torment meet,
Dire clap of hands, distracted chafe of feet;
While loud and dull ascends the weeping cry,
Surely in other thoughts contempt may die.
If the sad grave of human ignorance bear
One flower of hope-Oh, pass and leave it there.

THE FEMALE VAGRANT.

My father was a good and pious man,
An honest man by honest parents bred;
And I believe, that, soon as I began
To lisp, he made me kneel beside my bed,
And in his hearing there my prayers I said;
And afterwards, by my good father taught,'
I read, and loved the books in which I read;
For books in every neighbouring house I sought,
And nothing to my mind a sweeter pleasure brought.
The suns of twenty summers danced along,-
Ah! little mark'd how fast they roll'd away;
Then rose a stately hall our woods among,
And cottage after cottage own'd its sway.
No joy to see a neighbouring house, or stray
Through pastures not his own, the master took:
My father dared his greedy wish gainsay;

He loved his old hereditary nook,

And ill could I the thought of such sad parting brook.

But, when he had refused the proffer'd gold,

To cruel injuries he became a prey,

Sore traversed in whate'er he bought and sold:
His troubles grew upon him day by day,

And all his substance fell into decay.

They dealt most hardly with him, and he tried

To move their hearts-but it was vain-for they
Seized all he had; and, weeping side by side,
We sought a home where we uninjured might abide.

It was in truth a lamentable hour

When, from the last hill-top my sire survey'd,
Peering above the trees, the steeple tower
That on his marriage-day sweet music made,
Till then he hoped his bones might there be laid,
Close by my mother, in their native bowers;
Bidding me trust in God, he stood and pray'd-
I could not pray :-through tears that fell in showers,
I saw our own dear home, that was no longer ours.

This shrine is resorted to, from a hope of relief, by multitudes, from every corner of the Catholic world, labouring under mental or bodily afflictions.

There was a youth whom I had loved so long,
That when I loved him not I cannot say.

'Mid the green mountains many and many a song
We two had sung, like gladsome birds in May.
When we began to tire of childish play,

We seem'd still more and more to prize each other;
We talk'd of marriage and our marriage-day;
And I in truth did love him like a brother;

For never could I hope to meet with such another.

Two years were past, since to a distant town
He had repair'd to ply the artist's trade.
What tears of bitter grief, till then unknown
What tender vows our last sad kiss delay'd!
To him we turn'd: we had no other aid.
Like one revived, upon his neck I wept:
And her whom he had loved in joy, he said
He well could love in grief: his faith he kept;
And in a quiet home once more my father slept.

We lived in peace and comfort; and were blest
With daily bread, by constant toil supplied.
Three lovely infants lay upon my breast;
And often, viewing their sweet smiles, I sigh'd,
And knew not why. My happy father died
When sad distress reduced the children's meal;
Thrice happy! that from him the grave did hide
The empty loom, cold hearth, and silent wheel,

And tears that flow'd for ills which patience could not heal.
"Twas a hard change, an evil time was come;
We had no hope, and no relief could gain.

But soon, day after day, the noisy drum

Beat round to sweep the streets of want and pain.

My husband's arms now only served to strain

Me and his children hungering in his view:

In such dismay my prayers and tears were vain :

To join those miserable men he flew :

And now to the sea-coast, with numbers more we drew.

There, long were we neglected, and we bore
Much sorrow ere the fleet its anchor weigh'd;
Green fields before us and our native shore,
We breathed a pestilential air that made
Ravage for which no knell was heard. We pray'd
For our departure; wish'd and wish'd-nor knew
'Mid that long sickness, and those hopes delay'd,
That happier days we never more must view:
The parting signal stream'd, at last the land withdre
But the calm summer season now was past.
On as we drove, the equinoctial deep

Ran mountains high before the howling blast;
And many perish'd in the whirlwind's sweep.
We gazed with terror on their gloomy sleep,
Untaught that soon such anguish must ensue,

Our hopes such harvest of affliction reap,

That we the mercy of the waves should rue.

We reach'd the Western World, a poor, devoted crew.

The pains and plagues that on our heads came down,
Disease and famine, agony and fear,

In wood or wilderness, in camp or town,
It would thy brain unsettle, even to hear.
All perish'd-all, in one remorseless year,
Husband and children! one by one, by sword
And ravenous plague, all perish'd: every tear
Dried up, despairing, desolate, on board

A British ship I waked, as from a trance restored.
Peaceful as some immeasurable plain

By the first beams of dawning light impress'd,
In the calm sunshine slept the glittering main :
The very ocean has its hour of rest.

I too was calm, though heavily distress'd!
Oh me, how quiet sky and ocean were !
My heart was hush'd within me, I was bless'd,
And look'd, and look'd along the silent air,
Until it seem'd to bring a joy to my despair.
Ah! how unlike those late terrific sleeps!
And groans, that rage of racking famine spoke :
The unburied dead that lay in festering heaps !
The breathing pestilence that rose like smoke;
The shriek that from the distant battle broke!
The mine's dire earthquake, and the pallid host,
Driven by the bomb's incessant thunder-stroke
To loathsome vaults, where heart-sick anguish toss'd,
Hope died, and fear itself in agony was lost!
At midnight once the storming army came,-
Yet do I see the miserable sight,

The bayonet, the soldier, and the flame
That follow'd us and faced us in our flight:
When rape and murder by the ghastly light

Seized their joint prey, the mother and the child!

But I must leave these thoughts.-From night to night,
From day to day, the air breathed soft and mild;
And on the gliding vessel Heaven and ocean smiled.
Some mighty gulf of separation past,

I seem'd transported to another world :

A thought resign'd with pain, when from the mast
The impatient mariner the sail unfurl'd,

And whistling, call'd the wind that hardly curl'd

The silent sea. From the sweet thoughts of home,

And from all hope I was for ever hurl'd.

For me-farthest from earthly port to roam

Was best, could I but shun the spot where man might come.

And oft I thought (my fancy was so strong)

That I at last a resting-place had found;
Here will I dwell, said I, my whole life long,

Roaming the illimitable waters round:
Here will I live:-of every friend disown'd,
And end my days upon the ocean flood.-

To break my dream the vessel reach'd its bound:
And homeless near a thousand homes I stood,
And near a thousand tables pined, and wanted food.
By grief enfeebled was I turn'd adrift,
Helpless as sailor cast on desert rock;
Nor morsel to my mouth that day did lift,
Nor dared my hand at any door to knock.
I lay, where with his drowsy mates, the cock,
From the cross timber of an out-house hung ;
Dismally toll'd, that night, the city clock!
At morn my sick heart hunger scarcely stung,
Nor to the beggar's language could I frame my tongue.
So pass'd another day, and so the third;
Then did I try in vain the crowd's resort.

-In deep despair by frightful wishes stirr'd,

Near the sea-side I reach'd a ruin'd fort:

There, pains which nature could no more support,
With blindness link'd, did on my vitals fall,

And I had many interruptions short

Of hideous sense; I sank, nor step could crawl,
And thence was carried to a neighbouring hospital.
Recovery came with food; but still, my brain
Was weak, nor of the past had memory.

I heard my neighbours, in their beds, complain
Of many things which never troubled me:
Of feet still bustling round with busy glee;

Of looks where common kindness had no part;
Of service done with careless cruelty,

Fretting the fever round the languid heart;

And groans, which, as they said, might make a dead man start.

These things just served to stir the torpid sense,

Nor pain nor pity in my bosom raised.

My memory and my strength return'd; and thence
Dismiss'd, again on open day I gazed

At houses, men, and common light, amazed,

The lanes I sought, and as the sun retired,

Came, where beneath the trees a fagot plazed;
The travellers saw me weep, my fate inquired,

And gave me food, and rest, more welcome, more desired.

My heart is touch'd to think that men like these,
Wild houseless wanderers, were my first relief:
How kindly did they paint their vagrant ease!
And their long holiday that fear'd not grief!
For all belong'd to all, and each was chief.
No plough their sinews strain'd; on grating road
No wain they drove; and yet the yellow sheaf
In
every vale for their delight was stow'd;
In every field, with milk their dairy overflow'd.

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