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The Story tells what courses were pursued,
Of that magnificent temple which doth bound
One side of our whole vale with grandeur rare ; The people answered with a loud acclaim : Sweet garden-orchard, eminently fair, Yet more ;-heart-smitten by the heroic deed, The loveliest spot that man hath ever found, The reinstated Artegal became
Farewell!- we leave thee to Heaven's peaceful care, Earth's noblest penitent; from bondage freed Thee, and the Cottage which thou dost surround. Of vice-thenceforth unable to subvert Or shake his high desert.
Our boat is safely anchored by the shore, Long did he reign ; and, when he died, the tear And there will safely ride when we are gone ; Of universal grief bedewed his honoured bier. The flowering shrubs that deck our humble door
Will prosper, though untended and alone : Thus was a Brother by a Brother saved ;
Fields, goods, and far-off chattels we have none : With whom a crown (temptation that hath set These narrow bounds contain our private store Discord in hearts of men till they have braved Of things earth makes, and sun doth shine upon ; Their nearest kin with deadly purpose met) Here are they in our sight-we have no more.
Sunshine and shower be with you, bud and bell !
WRITTEN IN MY POCKET-COPY OF THOMSON'S CASTLE OF Bright gowan, and marsh-marigold, farewell !
For never sun on living creature shone
say. And love the blessed life that we lead here.
Thus often would he leave our peaceful home, Dear Spot! which we have watched with tender heed, and find elsewhere his business or delight; Bringing thee chosen plants and blossoms blown Out of our Valley's limits did he roam : Among the distant mountains, flower and weed, Full many a time, upon a stormy night, Which thou hast taken to thee as thy own, His voice came to us from the neighbouring height: Making all kindness registered and known; Oft could we see him driving full in view Thou for our sakes, though Nature's child indeed, At mid-day when the sun was shining bright; Fair in thyself and beautiful alone,
What ill was on him, what he had to do, Hast taken gifts which thou dost little need, A mighty wonder bred among our quiet crew.
And O most constant, yet most fickle Place, Ah ! piteous sight it was to see this Man
Or like a sinful creature, pale and wan.
Retired in that sunshiny shade he lay;
And, like a naked Indian, slept himself away. Help us to tell Her tales of years gone by, And this sweet spring, the best beloved and best ; Great wonder to our gentle tribe it was Joy will be flown in its mortality ;
Whenever from our Valley he withdrew; Something must stay to tell us of the rest.
For happier soul no living creature has Here, thronged with primroses, the steep rock’s Than he had, being here the long day through. breast
Some thought he was a lover, and did woo: Glittered at evening like a starry sky ;
Some thought far worse of him, and judged him And in this bush our sparrow built her nest,
wrong; Of which I sang one song that will not die.
But verse was what he had been wedded to;
And his own mind did like a tempest strong O happy Garden ! whose seclusion deep
Come to him thus, and drove the weary Wight Hath been so friendly to industrious hours ;
along And to soft slumbers, that did gently steep Our spirits, carrying with them dreams of flowers, With him there often walked in friendly guise, And wild notes warbled among leafy bowers; Or lay upon the moss by brook or tree, Two burning months let summer overleap,
A noticeable Man with large grey eyes, And, coming back with Her who will be ours,
And a pale face that seemed undoubtedly Into thy bosom we again shall creep.
As if a blooming face it ought to be;