Now with religious awe, the farewell light [night; Blends with the solemn colouring of the 'Mid groves of clouds that crest the mountain's brow, [shadows throw, And round the west's proud lodge their Like Una shining on her gloomy way, The half-seen form of Twilight roams [small, astray, Shedding, through paly loopholes mild and Gleams that upon the lake's still bosom [pale, Soft o'er the surface creep those lustres Tracking the fitful motions of the gale. With restless interchange at once the bright Wins on the shade, the shade upon the light.

fall;

No favoured eye was e'er allowed to gaze
On lovelier spectacle in faery days;
When gentle spirits urged a sportive

chase,

Brushing with lucid wands the water's face;
While music, stealing round the glimmer-
ing deeps,
(steeps.
Charmed the tall circle of the enchanted
-The lights are vanished from the watery
plains:

No wreck of all the pageantry remains.
Unheeded night has overcome the vales:
On the dark earth the baffled vision fails;
The latest lingerer of the forest train,
The lone black fir, forsakes the faded plain;
Last evening sight, the cottage smoke, 110
[hoar;
Lost in the thickened darkness, glimmers
And, towering from the sullen dark-brown
Lappear.
Like a black wall, the mountain steeps

more,

mere,

A sympathetic twilight slowly steal,
And ever, as we fondly muse, we find
The soft gloom deepening on the tranquil
mind.

Stay! pensive, sadly-pleasing visions, stay!
Ah no! as fades the vale, they fade away:
Yet still the tender, vacant gloom remains;
Still the cold cheek its shuddering tear

retains.

See, o'er the eastern hill, where darkness [woods; O'er all its vanished dells, and lawns, and Where but a mass of shade the sight can trace,

She lifts in silence up her lovely face; Above the gloomy valley flings her light, Far to the western slopes with hamlets white; [upland strew, And gives, where woods the chequered To the green corn of summer autumn's hue.

But now the clear-bright moon her zenith gains,

And rimy without speck extend the plains; The deepest dell the mountain's front displays, [rays;

Scarce hides a shadow from her searching From the dark-blue faint silvery threads divide

The hills, while gleams below the azure tide; The scene is wakened, yet its peace unbroke, By silvered wreaths of quiet charcoal smoke, That, o'er the ruins of the fallen wood, Steal down the hill, and spread along the flood.

The song of mountain streams, unheard by day, [way. Now hardly heard, beguiles my homeward All air is, as the sleeping water, still, Listening the aerial music of the hill, Broke only by the slow clock tolling deep, Or shout that wakes the ferryman from sleep,

Soon followed by his hollow-parting oar, And echoed hoof approaching the far shore;

[borne, Sound of closed gate, across the water Hurrying the feeding hare through rustling

corn;

[own morn;

blessed horn Her dawn, far lovelier than the moon's Till higher mounted, strives in vain to cheer The weary hills, impervious, blackening [while Yet does she still, undaunted, throw the On darling spots remote her tempting

near;

hound.

LINES

WRITTEN WHILE SAILING IN A BOAT AT
EVENING.

How richly glows the water's breast
Before us, tinged with evening hues,
While, facing thus the crimson west,
The boat her silent course pursues!

And see how dark the backward stream!
A little moment past so smiling!
And still, perhaps, with faithless gleam,
Some other loiterers beguiling.

Such views the youthful bard allure;
But, heedless of the following gloom,
He deems their colours shall endure
Till peace go with him to the tomb,

And let him muse his fond deceit,
And what if he must die in sorrow!
Who would not cherish dreams so sweet,
Though grief and pain may come to-mor-
row?

REMEMBRANCE OF COLLINS.

Where falls the purple morning far and wide

In flakes of light upon the mountain side; Where with loud voice the power of water shakes

The leafy wood, or sleeps in quiet lakes.

Yet not unrecompensed the man shall

roam,

Who at the call of summer quits his home,

RICHMOND.

GLIDE gently, thus for ever glide,

O Thames! that other bards may see
As lovely visions by thy side
As now, fair river! come to me.
Oh, glide, fair stream, for ever so!
Thy quiet soul on all bestowing,.
Till all our minds for ever flow,
As thy deep waters now are flowing.

Vain thought!-Yet be as now thou art,
That in thy waters may be seen
The image of a poet's heart-
How bright, how solemn, how serene!
Such as did once the poet bless,
Who murmuring here a later ditty,
Could find no refuge from distress
But in the milder grief of pity.

Now let us, as we float along,
For him suspend the dashing oar,
And pray that never child of song
May know that poet's sorrows more.
How calm how still! the only sound
The dripping of the oar suspended!
The evening darkness gathers round,
By virtue's holiest powers attended.

DESCRIPTIVE SKETCHES TAKEN DURING A PEDESTRIAN TOUR AMONG THE ALPS.

WERE there, below, a spot of holy ground Where from distress a refuge might be found,

And solitude prepare the soul for heaven; Sure, nature's God that spot to man had given,

* Collins's Ode on the Death of Thomson; the last written, I believe, of the poems which were published during his lifetime. This ode is also alluded to in the next stanza.

and height,

Though seeking only holiday delight;
At least, not owning to himself an aim
To which the sage would give a prouder

name.

No gains too cheaply earned his fancy cloy, Though every passing zephyr whispers joy; Brisk toil, alternating with ready ease, Feeds the clear current of his sympathies. For him sod-seats the cottage door adorn; And peeps the far-off spire, his evening bourn!

Dear is the forest frowning o'er his head, And dear the velvet greensward to his tread : [eye? Moves there a cloud o'er mid-day's flaming Upward he looks-" and calls it luxury;' Kind nature's charities his steps attend ; In every babbling brook he finds a friend; While chastening thoughts of sweetest use, bestowed

By wisdom, moralize his pensive road. Host of his welcome inn, the noon-tide bower,

To his spare meal he calls the passing poor;
He views the sun uplift his golden fire,
Or sink, with heart alive like Memnon's
lyre;t
[ray,
Blesses the moon that comes with kindly
To light him shaken by his rugged way;
With bashful fear no cottage children steal
From him, a brother at the cottage meal;
His humble looks no shy restraint impart,
Around him plays at will the virgin heart.
While unsuspended wheels thevillage dance,
Much wondering what sad stroke of craz-
The maidens eye him with inquiring glance,
[there.

ing care

Or desperate love could lead a wanderer

Me, lured by hope her sorrows to remove, A heart that could not much herself approve,

The lyre of Memnon is reported to have emitted melancholy or cheerful tones, as it was touched by the sun's evening or morning rays.

O'er Gallia's wastes of corn dejected led, Her road elms rustling high above my head, Or through her truant pathways' native charms,

By secret villages and lonely farms,

To where the Alps ascending white in air, Toy with the sun, and glitter from afar.

And now, emerging from the forest's gloom,

severe

I heave a sigh at hoary Chartreuse' doom. Where now is fled that power whose frown [fear? Tamed sober reason till she crouched in The cloister startles at the gleam of arms, And blasphemy the shuddering fane alarms; Nod the cloud-piercing pines their troubled heads; [o'erspreads; Spires, rocks, and lawns, a browner night Strong terror checks the female peasant's sighs, [eyes. And start the astonished shades at female That thundering tube the aged angler hears, And swells the groaning torrent with his [jay, From Bruno's forest screams the affrighted And slow the insulted eagle wheels away. The cross, with hideous laughter, demons mock,

tears;

By angels planted on the aërial rock.* The " parting genius" sighs with hollow breath [Death.t Along the mystic streams of Life and Swelling the outcry dull, that long resounds Portentous through her old woods' trackless bounds,

Vallombre, 'mid her falling fanes, deplores, For ever broke, the sabbath of her bowers.

As up the opposing hills with tortoise foot they creep.

Here, half a village shines, in gold arrayed, Bright as the moon; half hides itself in shade: [spire, While, from amid the darkened roofs the Restlessly flashing, seems to mount like fire:

There, all unshaded, blazing forests throw Rich golden verdure on the waves below. Slow glides the sail along the illumined shore,

And steals into the shade the lazy oar; Soft bosoms breathe around contagious sighs,

And amorous music on the water dies.