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No wailing ghost shall dare appear
To vex with shrieks this quiet grove; But shepherd lads assemble here,
And melting virgins own their love. No wither'd witch shall here be seen ;
No goblins lead their nightly crew : The female Fays shall haunt the green,
And dress thy grave with pearly dew!
Shall kindly lend his little aid,
15 To deck the ground where thou art laid. When howling winds and beating rain,
In tempests shake the sylvan cell; Or 'midst the chase, on every plain,
The tender thought on thee shall dwell; 20 Each lonely scene shall thee restore;
For thee the tear be duly shed; Beloved till life can charm no more, And mourn'd till pity's self be dead.
Whatever word you chance to drop,
Two travellers of such a cast,
“Hold there," the other quick replies,
“I've seen it, Sir, as well as you,
"'T is green, 't is green, Sir, I assure ye.” “Green !" cries the other in a fury,
“Why, Sir, d'ye think l've lost my eyes ?”
“Sirs,” cries the umpire, “ cease your pother;
“Well then, at once to ease the doubt,"
He said ; then full before their sight 65 Produced the beast, and, lo!'t was white. Both stared; the man look'd wondrous wise : “ My children,” the chameleon cries, (Then first the creature found a tongue,) “You all are right and all are wrong: When next you talk of what you view, Think others see as well as you ;
Nor wonder, if you find that none
ALEXANDER SELKIRK. I am monarch of all I survey,
My right there is none to dispute, From the centre all round to the sea,
I am lord of the fowl and the brute. O Solitude! where are the charms
That sages have seen in thy face? Better dwell in the midst of alarms,
Than reign in this horrible place. I am out of humanity's reach,
I must finish my journey alone, Never hear the sweet music of speech,
I start at the sound of my own. The beasts that roam over the plain
My form with indifference see; They are so unacquainted with man,
Their tameness is shocking to me. Society, friendship, and love,
Divinely bestow'd upon man, Oh had I the wings of a dove,
How soon would I taste you again! My sorrows I then might assuage
In the ways of religion and truth,
And be cheer'd by the sallies of youth.
Resides in that heavenly word
More precious than silver and gold,
Or all that this earth can afford.
These valleys and rocks never heard,
Or smiled when a sabbath appear'd.
Ye winds, that have made me your sport,
Convey to this desolate shore
Of a land I shall visit no more.
A wish or a thought after me?
Though a friend I am never to see.
How fleet is a glance of the mind !
Compared with the speed of its flight, The tempest itself lags behind,
And the swift-winged arrows of light. When I think of my own native land,
In a moment I seem to be there; But, alas ! recollection at hand
Soon hurries me back to despair.
But the sea-fowl is gone to her nest,
The beast is laid down in his lair Even here is a season of rest,
And I to my cabin repair. There's mercy in every place,
And mercy, encouraging thought! Gives even affliction a grace,
And reconciles man to his lot.