And juniper and thistle, sprinkled o'er,
Fixing his downcast eye, he many an hour
A morbid pleasure nourished, tracing here
An emblem of his own unfruitful life:
And, lifting up his head, he then would
gaze

On the more distant scene,—how lovely 'tis Thou seest, and he would gaze till it became

Far lovelier, and his heart could not sustain The beauty, still more beauteous! Nor, that time,

When nature had subdued him to herself, Would he forget those beings, to whose minds,

Warm from the labours of benevolence, The world, and human life, appeared a

There was a youth whom I had loved so long,

That when I loved him not I cannot say. 'Mid the green mountains many a thoughtless song [May. We two had sung, like gladsome birds in When we began to tire of childish play, We seemed still more and more to prize each other; [day; We talked of marriage and our marriage And I in truth did love him like a brother, For never could I hope to meet with such

another!

Two years were passed since to a distant

town

He had repaired to ply the artist's trade. What tears of bitter grief till then unknown! [layed! What tender vows our last sad kiss deTo him we turned :-we had no other aid. Like one revived upon his neck 1 wept, And her whom he had loved in joy, he said, He well could love in grief; his faith he kept, [slept. And in a quiet home once more my father

We lived in peace and comfort, and were blest [plied. With daily bread, by constant toil supThree lovely infants lay upon my breast; And often viewing their sweet smiles, I sighed, [died And knew not why. My happy father When sad distress reduced the children's meal : [hide Thrice happy! that for him the grave did The empty loom, cold hearth, and silent [could not heal. And tears that flowed for ills which patience 'Twas a hard change, an evil time was come, We had no hope, and no relief could gain. But soon, with proud parade, the noisy [and pain. Beat round, to sweep the streets of want My husband's arms now only served to

wheel,.

drum

main

Peaceful as some immeasurable plain
By the first beams of dawning light im-
In the calm sunshine slept the glittering
prest,
The very ocean hath its hour of rest.
I, too, forgot the heavings of my breast.
Oh, me, how quiet sky and ocean were!
As quiet all within me. I was blest :
And looked, and looked along the silent air,
Until it seemed to bring a joy to my
despair.

Ah! how unlike those late terrific sleeps,
And groans, that rage of racking famine
spoke !
[heaps!
The unburied dead, that lay in festering
The breathing pestilence that rose like
smoke !
[broke!
The shriek that from the distant battle
The mine's dire earthquake, and the pallid

host

T

To loathsome vaults, where heart-sick anguish tossed, [lost! Hope died, and fear itself in agony was Some mighty gulf of separation past, I seemed transported to another world: A thought resigned with pain, when from

the mast

curled

The impatient mariner the sail unfurled, And whistling, called the wind that hardly [of home The silent sea. From the sweet thoughts And from all hope I was for ever hurled. 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 disowned, And end my days upon the ocean flood.'' To break my dream the vessel reached its [stood, And homeless near a thousand homes And near a thousand tables pined, and

bound:

wanted food.

By grief enfeebled, was I turned 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 tolled that night the city clock!
At morn my sick heart hunger scarcely
stung,
[frame my tongue.
Nor to the beggar's language could I

So passed another day, and so the third:
Then did I try in vain the crowd's resort.
-In deep despair, by frightful wishes
stirred,

Near the sea-side Í reached a ruined fort; There pains, which nature could no more support, [fall, With blindness linked, did on my vitals And after many interruption: short Of hideous sense, I sank, nor step could crawl; [recall. Unsought for was the help that did my life

Borne to an hospital, I lay with brain Drowsy and weak, and shattered memory;

plain

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.

Ill was I then for toil or service fit:

confine,

By the roadside forgetful would I sit Whole hours, my idle arms in moping sorrow knit.

I led a wandering life among the fields:
Contentedly, yet sometimes self-accused,
I lived upon what casual bounty yields,
Now coldly given, now utterly refused.
The ground I for my bed have often
used:

But, what afflicts my peace with keenest

ruth

Is, that I have my inner self abused,

fearless youth.

Three years ti. us wandering, often have I viewed,

In tears, the sun towards that country tend
Where my poor heart lost all its fortitude :
And now across this moor my steps I bend
-Oh, tell me whither-for no earthly
friend
[away,

Have I.-She ceased, and weeping turned
As if because her tale was at an end
She wept; because she had no more to say
Of that perpetual weight which on her spirit
lay.

My heart leaps up when I behold
A rainbow in the sky:
So was it when my life began;
So is it now I am a man:
So be it when I shall grow old,

Or let me die !

The child is father of the man;
And I could wish my days to be
Bound each to each by natural piety.

TO A BUTTERFLY.

STAY near me-do not take thy flight!
A little longer stay in sight!
Much converse do I find in thee,
Historian of my infancy!

Float near me; do not yet depart !
Dead times revive in thee:

Thou bring st, gay creature as thou art!
A solemr image to my heart,
My father's family!

Oh! pleasant, pleasant were the days,
The time, when, in our childish plays,
My sister Emmeline and I
Together chased the butterfly!
A very hunter did I rush

Upon the prey-with leaps and springs
1 followed on from brake to bush;
But she, God love her! feared to brush
The dust from off its wings.

FORESIGHT,

THAT is work of waste and ruin-
Do as Charles and I are doing!
Strawberry-blossoms, one and all,
We must spare them-here are many :
Look at it-the flower is small,
Small and low, though fair as any :
Do not touch it! summers two

I am older, Anne, than you.

Pull the primrose, sister Anne!
Pull as many as you can.

-Here are daisies, take your fill ;
Pansies, and the cuckow flower:
Of the lofty daffodil

Make your bed, and make your bower;
Fill your lap, and fill your bosom ;
Only spare the strawberry-blossom!

Primroses, the spring may love them :
Summer knows but little of them:
Violets, a barren kind,

Withered on the ground must lie;
Daisies leave no fruit behind
When the pretty flowerets die;
Pluck them, and another year
As many will be blowing here.

God has given a kindlier power
To the favoured strawberry-flower.
When the months of spring are fled
Hither let us bend our walk;

Lurking berries, ripe and red,
Then will hang on every stalk,
Each within its leafy bower;
And for that promise spare the flower!

CHARACTERISTICS OF A CHILD
THREE YEARS OLD.

LOVING she is, and tractable, though wild;
And innocence hath privilege in her
To dignify arch looks and laughing eyes;
And feats of cunning; and the pretty round
Of trespasses, affected to provoke
Mock-chastisement and partnership in play.
And, as a faggot sparkles on the hearth,
Not less if unattended and alone
Than when both young and old sit gathered
And take delight in its activity, [round
Even so this happy creature of herself
Is all-sufficient; solitude to her
Is blithe society, who fills the air
With gladness and involuntary songs.
Light are her sallies as the tripping fawn's
Forth-startled from the fern where she lay
couched ;

Unthought of, unexpected, as the stir
Of the soft breeze ruffling the meadow
flowers;

Or from before it chasing wantonly
The many-coloured images impressed
Upon the bosom of a placid lake

ADDRESS TO A CHILD DURING A BOISTEROUS WINTER

EVENING.

BY A FEMALE FRIEND OF THE AUTHOR.

and me.

THE MOTHER'S RETURN.

BY THE SAME.

A MONTH, Sweet little ones, is passed
Since your dear mother went away,-
And she to-morrow will return;
To-morrow is the happy day.

Oh, blessed tidings! thought of joy!
The eldest heard with steady glee;
Silent he stood; then laughed amain.
And shouted, "Mother, come to me!"