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Climes which the sun, who sheds the Learn by a mortal yearning to ascend brightest day
Towards a higher object. -Love was given, Earth knows, is all unworthy to survey. Encouraged, sanctioned, chiefly for that
end: Yet there the soul shall enter which hath For this the passion to excess was drivenearned
That self might be annulled : her bondage That privilege by virtue.-"111," said he, prove " The end of man's existence I discerned, The fetters of a dream, opposed to love." Who from ignoble games and revelry Could draw, when we had parted, vain Aloud she shrieked! for Hermes re delight
(and night : appears ! While tears were thy best pastime, -day Round the dear shade she would have
clung-'tis vain. “And while my youthful peers, before my The hours are past-too brief had they eyes,
been years ; (Each hero following his peculiar bent) And him no mortal effort can detain: Prepared themselves for glorious enterprise Swift, toward the realms that know not By martial sports, -or, seated in the tent, earthly day, Chieftains and kings in council were de- He through the portal takes his silent way, tained ;
And on the palace floor a lifeless corse she What time the fleet at Aulis lay enchained. lay. **The wished-for wind was given :-I then By no weak pity might the gods be moved ; revolved
She who thus perished not without the The oracle, upon the silent sea ;
crime And, if no worthier led the way, resolved Of lovers that in reason's spite have loved, That, of a thousand vessels, mine should Was doomed to wander in a grosser clime, be
(strand, - Apart from happy ghosts-that gather The foremost prow in pressing to the
flowers Mine the first blood that tinged the Trojan Of blissful quiet 'mid unfading bowers. sand.
Yet tears to human suffering are due ; "Yet bitter, oft-times bitter, was the pang And mortal hopes defeated and o'erthrown When of thy loss I thought, beloved wife! Are mourned by man, and not by man On thee too fondly did my memory hang, alone, And on the joys we shared in mortal life, As fondly he believes.-Upon the side The paths which we had trod—these foun- of Hellespont (such faith was entertained) tains-flowers;
A knot of spiry trees for ages grew My Dew-planned cities, and unfinished From out the tomb of him for whom she towers.
And ever, when such stature they had gained "But should suspense permit the foe to That Ilium's walls were subject to their
(array, view, Behold, they tremble !-baughty their The trees' tall summits withered at the sight; Yet of their number no one dares to die !'- A constant interchange of growth and In soul I swept the indignity away:
blight ! * Old frailties' then recurred :—but lofty
thought, In act embodied, my deliverance wrought. The sun has burnt her coal-black hair ;
Her eyes are wild, her head is bare,
And she came far from over the main.
* For the account of these long-lived trees, Our blest re-union in the shades below.
see Pliny's Natural History, lib. 16, cap. 44 ; and The invisible world with thee hath sympa- see the " Iphigenia in Aulis " of Euripides. -Vir,
for the features in the character of Protesilaus thized;
gil places the shade of Laodamia in a mournful Be thy affections raised and solemnized.
region, among unhappy lovers.
She has a baby on her arm,
And, if from me thou wilt not go,
· Thy father cares not for my breast, 'Tis thine, sweet baby, there to rest ; "Tis all thine own !-and, if its hue Be changed, that was so fair to view, "Tis fair enough for thee, my dove ! My beauty, little child, is flown ; But thou wilt live with me in love, And what if my poor cheek be brown? 'Tis well for me, thou canst not see How pale and wan it else would be.
A fire was once within my brain ,
"Dread not their taunts, my little life;
“Suck, little babe, oh, suck again !
"I'll teach my boy the sweetest things
"Oh! love me, love me, little boy !
"Then do not fear, my boy! for thee
RESOLUTION AND INDE
PENDENCE. There was a roaring in the wind all night; The rain came heavily and fell in floods ; But now the sun is rising calm and bright; The birds are singing in the distant woods :
Over his own sweet voice the stock-dove Following his plough, along the mountainbroods ;
[ters; side : The jay makes answer as the magpie chat- By our own spirits are we deified : And all the air is filled with pleasant noise We poets in our youth begin in gladness ; of waters.
But thereof comes in the end despondency
and madness. All things that love the sun are out of doors : The sky rejoices in the morning's birth; Now, whether it were by peculiar grace, The grass is bright with rain-drops ;-on A leading from above, a something given, the moors
Yet it befel, that, in this lonely place, The hare is running races in her mirth ; When I with these untoward thoughts had And with her feet she from the plashy earth striven, Raises a mist; that, glittering in the sun, Beside a pool bare to the eye of heaven Runs with her all the way, wherever she I saw a man before me unawares : doth run.
The oldest man he seemed that ever wore
gray hairs. I was a traveller then upon the moor; I saw the hare that raced about with joy; As a huge stone is sometimes seen to lie I heard the woods, the distant waters, roar, Wonder to all who do the same espy,
Couched on the bald top of an eminence; Or heard them not, as happy as a boy : The pleasant season did my heart employ : By what means it could thither come, and My old remembrances went from me
whence ; wholly;
(melancholy ! So that it seems a thing endued with sense : And all the ways of men so vain and Like a sea-beast crawled forth, that on a
shelf But, as it sometimes chanceth, from the Of rock or sand reposeth, there to sun itself ; might
Such seemed this man, not all alivenor dead, Of joy in minds that can no further go,
Nor all asleep-in his extreme old age : As high as we have mounted in delight
His body was bent double, feet and head In our dejection do we sink as low,
Coming together in lise's pilgrimage ; To me that morning did it happen so;
As if some dire constraint of pain, or rage And fears, and fancies, thick upon me came; Of sickness felt by him in times long past, Dim sadness—and blind thoughts, I knew A more than human weight upon his frame not, nor could name.
had cast. I heard the sky-lark warbling in the sky; Himself he propped, his body, limbs, and And I bethought me of the playful hare : face, Even such a happy child of earth am I ; Upon a long gray staff of shaven wood : Even as these blissful creatures do I fare ; And, still as I drew near with gentle pace, Farfrom the world I walk, and from allcare; Upon the margin of that moorish flood But there may come another day to me- Motionless as a cloud the old man stood ; Solitude, pain of eart, distress, and poverty? That heareth not the loud winds when they My whole life I have lived in pleasant And moveth altogether, if it move at all.
thought, As if life's business were a summer mood; At length, himself unsettling, he the pond As if all needful things would come un- Stirred with his staff, and fixedly did look sought
Upon the muddy water, which he conned, To genial faith, still rich in genial good;
As if he had been reading in a book : But how can he expect that others should And now a stranger's privilege I took ; Build for him, sow for him, and at his call And, drawing to his side, to him did say, Love him, who for himself will take no “This morning gives us promise of a gloheed at all?
rious day. I thought of Chatterton, the marvellous boy, A gentle answer did the old man make, The sleepless soul that perished in his pride; In courteous speech which forth he slowly Of him who walked in glory and in joy
And him with further words I thus bespake, While he was talking thus, the lonely place, "What occupation do you there pursue ? The old man's shape, and speech, ail This is a lonesome place for one like you." troubled me : He answered, while a flash of mild surprise In my mind's eye I seemed to see him pace Broke from the sable orbs of his yet vivid About the weary moors continually, eyes.
Wandering about alone and silently.
While I these thoughts within myself purHis words came feebly, from a feeble chest, sued,
(course renewed. But each in solemn order followed each, He, having made a pause, the same disWith something of a lofty utterance drest; Choice word, and measured phrase, above And soon with this he other matter blended, the reach
Cheerfully uttered, with demeanour kind. Of ordinary men; a stately speech ;
But stately in the main ; and when he ended, Such as grave livers do in Scotland use,
I could have laughed myself to scorn to find Religious men, who give to God and man in that decrepit man so firm a mind, their dues.
“God," said I, “be my help and stay secure :
(lonely moor!" He told, that to these waters he had come i'u think of the leech-gatherer on the To gather leeches, being old and poor : Employment hazardous and wearisome! And he had many hardships to endure :
THE THORN. From pond to pond he roamed, from moor to moor ;
(or chance : " THERE is a thorn—it looks so old, Housing, with God's good help, by choice In truth, you'd find it hard to sav And in this way he gained an honest main- How it could ever have been young, tenance.
It looks so old and gray.
Not higher than a two years' child
A wretched thing forlorn. And the whole body of the man did seem
It stands erect, and like a stone
With lichens it is overgrown.
Like rock or stone, it is o'ergrown, monishment.
With lichens to the very top,
And hung with heavy tufts of moss, My former thoughts returned : the fear that A melancholy crop :
Up from the earth these mosses creep. And hope that is unwilling to be fed ;
And this poor thorn they clasp it round Cold, pain, and labour, and all fleshly ills ; So close, you'd say, that they were bent And mighty poets in their misery dead.
With plain and manifest intent Perplexed, and longing to be comforted
To drag it to the ground ; My question eagerly did I renew,
And all had joined in one endeavour “How is it that you live, and what is it you To bury this poor thorn for ever. do?"
" High on a mountain's highest ridge, He with a smile did then his words repeat; Where oft the stormy winter gale And said, that, gathering leeches, far and Cuts like a scythe, while through the clouds wide
It sweeps from vale to vale ; He travelled ; stirring thus about his feet Not five yards from the mountain path, The waters of the pools where they abide. This thorn you on your left espy ; “Once I could meet with them on every And to the left, three yards beyond,
You see a little muddy pond But they have dwindled long by slow decay; Of water-never dry; Yet still I persevere, and find them where I Though but of compass small, and bare may.
To thirsty suns and parching air.
"And, close beside this aged thorn, “I cannot tell ; I wish I could ; There is a fresh and lovely sight,
For the true reason no one knows : A beauteous heap, a hill of moss,
But would you gladly view the spot, Just half a foot in height.
The spot to which she goes ; All lovely colours there you see,
The hillock like an infant's grave, All colours that were ever seen ;
The pond—and thorn so old and gray ; And mossy Ret-work too is there,
Pass by her door-'tis seldom shutAs if by hand of lady fair
And, if you see her in her hut, The work had woven been ;
Then to the spot away ! And cups, the darlings of the eye,
I never heard of such as dare So deep is their vermilion dye.
Approach the spot when she is there." "Ah me! what lovely tints are there ! “But wherefore to the mountain-top Of olive green and scarlet bright,
Can this unhappy woman go, In spikes, in branches, and in stars, Whatever sta, is in the skies, Green, red, and pearly white.
Whatever wind may blow ?" This heap of earth o'ergrown with moss, “'Tis known, that twenty years are passed Which close beside the thorn you see, Since she (her name is Martha Ray) So fresh in all its beauteous dyes,
Gave with a maiden's true good will Is like an infant's grave in size,
Her company to Stephen Hill; As like as like can be :
And she was blithe and gay, But never, never any where,
While friends and kindred all approved An infant's grave was half so fair.
Of him whom tenderly she loved. "Now would you see this aged thorn, “And they had fixed the wedding day, This pond, and beauteous hill of moss, The morning that must wed them both ; You must take care and choose your time But Stephen to another maid The mountain when to cross.
Had sworn another oath ; For oft there sits between the heap
And with this other maid to church
Unthinking Stephen went-
A pang of pitiless dismay
Into her soul was sent; "Oh, misery! oh, misery!
A fire was kindled in her breast, Oh, woe is me! oh, misery!'
Which might not burn itself to rest. "At all times of the day and night “ They say, full six months after this, This wretched woman thither goes ;
While yet the summer leaves were green, And she is known to every star,
She to the mountain-top would go, And every wind that blows ;
And there was often seen. And there, beside the thorn, she sits
Alas! her lamentable state When the blue daylight's in the skies,
Even to a careless eye was plain ; And when the whirlwind's on the hill, She was with child, and she was mad; Or frosty air is keen and still,
Yet often she was sober sad And to herself she cries,
From her exceeding pain. Oh, misery! oh, misery!
O guilty father, --would that death Oh, woe is me! oh, misery!"
Had saved him from that breach of faith! Now wherefore, thus, by day and night, “Sad case for such a brain to hold In rain, in tempest, and in snow,
Communion with a stirring child ! Thus to the dreary mountain-top
Sad case, as you may think, tor one Does this poor woman go?
Who had a brain so wild ! And why sits she beside the thorn
Last Christmas-eve we talked of this, When the blue daylight's in the sky,
And gray-haired Wilfred of the glen Or when the whirlwind's on the hill,
Held that the unborn infant wrought Or frosty air is keen and still,
About its mother's heart, and brought And wherefore does she cry?
Her senses back again : Oh, wherefore? wherefore? tell me why
And when at last her time drew near, Does she repeat that doleful cry?"
Her looks were calm, her senses clear.