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Sweet are these scenes to her; and, when the Night
And ponders on the world to come.
THE RACE OF BANQUO.
“Fly, son of Banquo ! Fleance, fly!
“ Fly, son of Banquo ! Fleance, fly!
blast was heard the moan,
“ Forms of magic! spare my
life! Shield me from the murderer's knife! Before me, dim in lurid light, Float the phantoms of the night; Behind I hear my father cry, • Fly, son of Banquo! Fleance, fly!!”
“ Parent of the sceptred race,
WRITTEN N ALENTEJO,
JANUARY 23, 1796.
Sorrowing that early call I hear,
For dear to me the silent hour
And busy Fancy then let free,
When the slant sunbeams crest
When on the upland slope
I gaze around, with raptured eyes,
And o'er the western hill
Absorbed in darkness thence,
The dim, decaying light,
Fatigued and sad and slow,
And muse upon the distant day,
I see the miserable room,
Pray that my lot may be
But in that happy mean
Which for the soul is best,
In some secluded glen
RECOVERY, where art thou ? Daughter of Heaven, where shall we seek thy help? Upon what hallowed fountain hast thou laid,
O Nymph adored! thy spell ?
verge, Daughter of Heaven, we seek thee, but in vain; We find no healing in the breeze that sweeps
The thymny mountain's brow.
Where are the happy hours, The sunshine where, that cheered the morn of life? For Health is fled, and with her fled the joys
Which made existence dear.
I saw the distant hills
Should visit scenes so fair.
I looked abroad at noon,
The crags, which like a fairy fabric shone,
Darkness had overcast.
On you, ye coming years, So fairly shone the April gleam of hope ; So darkly o’er the distance, late so bright,
Now settle the black clouds.
Come thou, and chase away Sorrow and Pain, the persecuting Powers, Who make the melancholy day so long,
So long the restless night.
Shall we not find thee here, Recovery, on the salt sea's breezy strand? Is there no healing in the gales that sweep
The thymy mountain's brow?
I look for thy approach, O life-preserving Power! as one, who strays Alone in darkness o'er the pathless marsh,
Watches the dawn of day. MINEHEAD, July, 1799.
YOUTH AND AGE.
WITH cheerful step the traveller
Pursues his early way,
Reveals the rising day.