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Hadst been brought up upon thy Father's knees. When thou art gone away, should evil men
But we were playmates, Luke: among these hills, Be thy companions, think of me, my Son,
As well thou knowest, in us the old and young And of this moment; hither turn thy thoughts,
Have played together, nor with me didst thou And God will strengthen thee: amid all fear
Lack any pleasure which a boy can know.” And all temptation, Luke, I pray that thou
Luke had a manly heart; but at these words May'st bear in mind the life thy Fathers lived,
He sobbed aloud. The old Man grasped his hand, Who, being innocent, did for that cause
And said, “Nay, do not take it so— I see

Bestir them in good deeds. Now, fare thee well-
That these are things of which I need not speak. When thou return’st, thou in this place wilt see
-Even to the utmost I have been to thee

A work which is not here: a covenant A kind and a good Father : and herein

'Twill be between us; but, whatever fate I but repay a gift which I myself

Befal thee, I shall love thee to the last,
Received at others' hands; for, though now old And bear thy memory with me to the grave."
Beyond the common life of man, I still
Remember them who loved me in my youth. The Shepherd ended here; and Luke stooped
Both of them sleep together: here they lived,

As all their Forefathers had done; and when And, as his Father had requested, laid
At length their time was come, they were not loth The first stone of the Sheep-fold. At the sight
To give their bodies to the family mould.

The old Man's grief broke from him ; to his heart
I wished that thou shouldst live the life they lived: He pressed his Son, he kissèd him and wept ;
But, 'tis a long time to look back, my Son, And to the house together they returned.
And see so little gain from threescore years. -Hushed was that House in peace, or seeming
These fields were burthened when they came to me; peace,
Till I was forty years of age, not more

Ere the night fell :—with morrow's dawn the Boy
Than half of my inheritance was mine.

Began his journey, and when he had reached
I toiled and toiled; God blessed me in my work, The public way, he put on a bold face;
And till these three weeks past the land was free. And all the neighbours, as he passed their doors,
-It looks as if it never could endure

Came forth with wishes and with farewell prayers,
Another Master. Heaven forgive me, Luke, That followed him till he was out of sight.
If I judge ill for thee, but it seems good
That thou should’st go.”

A good report did from their Kinsman come,
At this the old Man paused; Of Luke and his well-doing: and the Boy
Then, pointing to the stones near which they stood, Wrote loving letters, full of wondrous news,
Thus, after a short silence, he resumed :

Which, as the Housewife phrased it, were throughout
“ This was a work for us; and now, my Son, • The prettiest letters that were ever seen.'
It is a work for me. But, lay one stone- Both parents read them with rejoicing hearts.
Here, lay it for me, Luke, with thine own hands. So, many months passed on: and once again
Nay, Boy, be of good hope ;-we both may live The Shepherd went about his daily work
To see a better day. At eighty-four

With confident and cheerful thoughts; and now
I still am strong and hale ;—do thou thy part; Sometimes when he could find a leisure hour
I will do mine.--I will begin again

He to that valley took his way, and there
With many tasks that were resigned to thee: Wrought at the Sheep-fold. Meantime Luke began
Up to the heights, and in among the storms, To slacken in his duty; and, at length,
Will I without thee go again, and do

He in the dissolute city gave himself
All works which I was wont to do alone,

To evil courses : ignominy and shame
Before I knew thy face.--Heaven bless thee, Boy! | Fell on him, so that he was driven at last
Thy heart these two weeks has been beating fast To seek a hiding-place beyond the seas.
With many hopes; it should be so-yes-yes-
I knew that thou could'st never have a wish

There is a comfort in the strength of love;
To leave me, Luke: thou hast been bound to me 'Twill make a thing endurable, which else
Only by links of love: when thou art gone, Would overset the brain, or break the heart:
What will be left to us !—But, I forget

I have conversed with more than one who well
My purposes. Lay now the corner-stone, Remember the old Man, and what he was
As I requested ; and hereafter, Luke,

Years after he had heard this heavy news.

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His bodily frame had been from youth to age
Of an unusual strength. Among the rocks The Mother mourned, nor ceased her tears to flow,
He went, and still looked up to sun and cloud, Till a winter's noon-day placed her buried Son
And listened to the wind; and, as before, Before her eyes, last child of many gone
Performed all kinds of labour for his sheep, His raiment of angelic white, and lo!
And for the land, his small inheritance.

His very feet bright as the dazzling snow
And to that hollow dell from time to time

Which they are touching; yea far brighter, even Did he repair, to build the Fold of which

As that which comes, or seems to come, from heaven, His flock had need. "Tis not forgotten yet Surpasses aught these elements can show. The pity which was then in every heart

Much she rejoiced, trusting that from that hour For the old Man--and 'tis believed by all

Whate'er befel she could not grieve or pine; That many and many a day he thither went, But the Transfigured, in and out of season, And never lifted up a single stone.

Appeared, and spiritual presence gained a power

Over material forms that mastered reason. There, by the Sheep-fold, sometimes was he Oh, gracious Heaven, in pity make her thine !


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Sitting alone, or with his faithful Dog,
Then old, beside him, lying at his feet.

But why that prayer? as if to her could come The length of full seven years, from time to time,

No good but by the way that leads to bliss He at the building of this Sheep-fold wrought,

Through Death, so judging we should judge amiss. And left the work unfinished when he died.

Since reason failed want is her threatened doom, Three years, or little more, did Isabel

Yet frequent transports mitigate the gloom : Survive her Husband : at her death the estate

Nor of those maniacs is she one that kiss Was sold, and went into a stranger's hand.

The air or laugh upon a precipice; The Cottage which was named the EVENING STAR

No, passing through strange sufferings toward the

tomb, Is gone—the ploughshare has been through the ground

She smiles as if a martyr's crown were won: On which it stood ; great changes have been wrought Oft, when light breaks through clouds or waving In all the neighbourhood :-yet the oak is left

trees, That grew beside their door; and the remains

With outspread arms and fallen upon her knees Of the unfinished Sheep-fold may be seen

The Mother hails in her descending Son
Beside the boisterous brook of Green-head Ghyll.

An Angel, and in earthly ecstacies
Her own angelic glory seems begun.


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[The subject of the following poem is from the Orlandus

of the author's friend, Kenelm Henry Digby: and the

liberty is taken of inscribing it to him as an acknowledgHow beautiful when up a lofty height

ment, however unworthy, of pleasure and instruction Honour ascends among the humblest poor,

derived from his numerous and valuable writings, And feeling sinks as deep! See there the door illustrative of the piety and chivalry of the olden time.) Of One, a Widow, left beneath a weight Of blameless debt. On evil Fortune's spite

You have heard'a Spanish Lady She wasted no complaint, but strove to make

How she wooed an English man* ;? A just repayment, both for conscience-sake

Hear now of a fair Armenian, And that herself and hers should stand upright

Daughter of the proud Soldàn; In the world's eye. Her work when daylight failed How she loved a Christian Slave, and told her pain Paused not, and through the depth of night she kept By word, look, deed, with hope that he might love Such earnest vigils, that belief prevailed

again. With some, the noble Creature never slept;

* See, in Percy's Reliques, that fine old ballad, “The But, one by one, the hand of death assailed

Spanish Lady's Love;" from which Poem the form of Her children from her inmost heart bewept. stanza, as suitable to dialogue, is adopted.

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“ Pluck that rose, it moves my liking,"

« Feeling tunes your voice, fair Princess ! Said she, lifting up her veil ;

And your brow is free from scorn, “ Pluck it for me, gentle gardener,

Else these words would come like mockery, Ere it wither and grow pale.”

Sharper than the pointed thorn." “ Princess fair, I till the ground, but may not take “Whence the undeserved mistrust ? Too wide apart From twig or bed an humbler flower, even for Our faith hath been,—0 would that eyes could see

the heart ! ”

your sake!"

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“ Wedded love with loyal Christians, “ Lady! dread the wish, nor venture

Lady, is a mystery rare ;
In such peril to engage ;

Body, heart, and soul in union,
Think how it would stir against you

Make one being of a pair.”
Your most loving father's rage :

“ Humble love in me would look for no return, Sad deliverance would it be, and yoked with shame, Soft as a guiding star that cheers, but cannot burn.” Should troubles overflow on her from whom it came.”

« Gracious Allah! by such title

Do I dare to thank the God, “Generous Frank! the just in effort

Him who thus exalts thy spirit,
Are of inward peace secure :

Flower of an unchristian sod !
Hardships for the brave encountered, Or hast thou put off wings which thou in heaven
Even the feeblest may endure:

dost wear? If almighty grace through me thy chains unbind

What have I seen, and heard, or dreamt? where My father for slave's work may seek a slave in am I ! where ?"





Here broke off the dangerous converse : “ Princess, at this burst of goodness,

Less impassioned words might tell
My long-frozen heart grows w

warm !”

How the pair escaped together, 6 Yet you make all courage fruitless,

Tears not wanting, nor a knell
Me to save from chance of harm :

Of sorrow in her heart while through her father's Leading such companion I that gilded dome,

door, Yon minarets, would gladly leave for his worst And from her narrow world, she passed for ever



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Thought infirm ne'er came between them,
Whether printing desert sands

And how blest the Reunited,
With accordant steps, or gathering

While beneath their castle-walls,
Forest-fruit with social hands;

Runs a deafening noise of welcome ! Or whispering like two reeds that in the cold moon- Blest, though every tear that falls beam

Doth in its silence of past sorrow tell, Bend with the breeze their heads, beside a crystal And makes a meeting seem most like a dear farewell.




On a friendly deck reposing

Through a haze of human nature,
They at length for Venice steer;

Glorified by heavenly light,
There, when they had closed their voyage,

Looked the beautiful Deliverer
One, who daily on the pier

On that overpowering sight,
Watched for tidings from the East, beheld his Lord, while across her virgin cheek pure blushes strayed,
Fell down and clasped his knees for joy, not For every tender sacrifice her heart had made.

uttering word.



Mutual was the sudden transport;

On the ground the weeping Countess
Breathless questions followed fast,

Knelt, and kissed the Stranger's hand;
Years contracting to a moment,

Act of soul-devoted homage,
Each word greedier than the last ;

Pledge of an eternal band :
“ Hie thee to the Countess, friend! return with Nor did aught of future days that kiss belie,

Which, with a generous shout, the crowd did ratify. And of this Stranger speak by whom her lord was




Constant to the fair Armenian,
Say that I, who might have languished,

Gentle pleasures round her moved,
Drooped and pined till life was spent,

Like a tutelary spirit
Now before the gates of Stolberg

Reverenced, like a sister, loved.
My Deliverer would present

Christian meekness smoothed for all the path of
For a crowning recompense, the precious grace life,
Of her who in my heart still holds her ancient Who, loving most, should wiseliest love, their only



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Say not you love the delicate treat,
Mute memento of that union

But like it, enjoy it, and thankfully eat.
In a Saxon church survives,
Where a cross-legged Knight lies sculptured Long may you love your pensioner mouse,
As between two wedded Wives

Though one of a tribe that torment the house:
Figures with armorial signs of race and birth, Nor dislike for her cruel sport the cat,
And the vain rank the pilgrims bore while yet on Deadly foe both of mouse and rat;

Remember she follows the law of her kind,

And Instinct is neither wayward nor blind.
Then think of her beautiful gliding form,
Her tread that would scarcely crush a worm,

And her soothing song by the winter fire,

Soft as the dying throb of the lyre.

I would not circumscribe your love :

It may soar with the eagle and brood with the dove, (BY MY SISTER.)

May pierce the earth with the patient mole, THERE 's more in words than I can teach :

Or track the hedgehog to his hole. Yet listen, Child !— I would not preach ;

Loving and liking are the solace of life, But only give some plain directions

Rock the cradle of joy, smooth the death-bed of To guide your speech and your affections.

strife. Say not you love a roasted fowl,

You love your father and your mother, But you may love a screaming owl,

Your grown-up and your baby brother; And, if you can, the unwieldy toad

You love your sister, and your friends, That crawls from his secure abode

And countless blessings which God sends : Within the mossy garden wall

And while these right affections play, When evening dews begin to fall.

You live each moment of your day; Oh mark the beauty of his eye:

They lead you on to full content, What wonders in that circle lie !

And likings fresh and innocent, So clear, so bright, our fathers said

That store the mind, the memory feed, He wears a jewel in his head!

And prompt to many a gentle deed : And when, upon some showery day,

But likings come, and pass away; Into a path or public way

'Tis love that remains till our latest day : A frog leaps out from bordering grass,

Our heavenward guide is holy love,
Startling the timid as they pass,

And will be our bliss with saints above.
Do you observe him, and endeavour
To take the intruder into favour;
Learning from him to find a reason
For a light heart in a dull season.

And you may love him in the pool,

That is for him a happy school,
In which he swims as taught by nature,

*High bliss is only for a higher state, Fit pattern for a human creature,

But, surely, if severe afflictions borne Glancing amid the water bright,

With patience merit the reward of peace, And sending upward sparkling light.

Peace ye deserve; and may the solid good,

Sought by a wise though late exchange, and here Nor blush if o'er your heart be stealing With bounteous hand beneath a cottage-roof A love for things that have no feeling :

To you accorded, never be withdrawn, The spring's first rose by you espied,

Nor for the world's best promises renounced.
May fill your breast with joyful pride;

Most soothing was it for a welcome Friend,
And you may love the strawberry-flower, Fresh from the crowded city, to behold
And love the strawberry in its bower;

That lonely union, privacy so deep,
But when the fruit, so often praised

Such calm employments, such entire content For beauty, to your lip is raised,

So when the rain is over, the storm laid,

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