"Farewell, farewell! and Mary grant, The Ranger on his couch lay warm, For low, when through the vapors dank, A corpse amid the alders rank, THE MAID OF NEIDPATH. [There is a tradition in Tweeddale, that, when Neidpath Castle, near Peebles, was inhabited by the Earls of March, a mutual passion subisted between a daughter of that noble family, and a son of the Laird of Tushielaw, in Ettrick Forest. As the alliance was thought unsuitable by her parents, the young man went abroad. During his absence, the lady fell into a consumption; and at length, as the only ineans of saving her life, her father consented that her lover should be recalled. On the day when he was expected to pass through Peebles, on the road to Tushielaw, the young lady, though much exhausted, caused herself to be carried to the balcony of a house in Peebles, Lelonging to the family, that she might see him as he rode past. Her anxiety and eagerness gave such force to her organs, that she is said to have distinguished his horse's footsteps at an incredible distance. But Tushielaw, unprepared for the change in her appearance, and not expecting to see her in that place, rode on without recognizing her, or even slackening his pace. The lady was unable to support the shock; and, after a short struggle, died in the arms of her attendants. There is an incident similar to this traditional tale in Count Hamilton's "Fleur d'Epine."] O LOVERS' eyes are sharp to see, Can lend an hour of cheering. To watch her love's returning. Awake in thy chamber, thou sweet southland gale! Like the sighs of his people, breathe soft on his sail : Be prolong'd as regret, that his vassals must know, Be fair as their faith, and sincere as their woe: Be so soft, and so fair, and so faithful, sweet gale, Wafting onward Mackenzie, High Chief of Kintail! Be his pilot experienced, and trusty, and wise, To measure the seas and to study the skies: May he hoist all his canvas from streamer to deck, But O! crowd it higher when wafting him back Till the cliffs of Skooroora, and Conan's glad vale, Shall welcome Mackenzie, High Chief of Kintail! SAMUEL TAYLOR COLERIDGE. 1772-1834. [SAMUEL TAYLOR COLERIDGE was born at Ottery Saint Mary in the year 1772, was educated ar Christ's Hospital and Jesus College, Cambridge, and died in 1834, at Highgate, in the house of Mr. Gillman, under whose friendly care he had passed the last eighteen years of his life, during which years he wrote but little. His first volume of poems was published at Bristol in 1796, and in 1798, Wordsworth's famous volume of Lyrical Ballads, to which Coleridge contributed The Ancient Mariner, together with some other pieces. Christabel, after lying long in manuscript, was printed in 1816, three editions of it appearing in one year; and in the next year Coleridge published a collection of his chief poems, under the title of Sibylline Leaves, “in allusion," as he says, "to the fragmentary and wildly-scattered state in which they had been long suffered to remain.' desultory writer both in prose and verse, he published the first really collective edition of his Poetical and Dramatic Works in the year 1828, in three volumes arranged by himself; a third and more complete issue of which, arranged by another hand, appeared in 1834, the year of his death. The latest reprint, with notes and an excellent memoir, and some poems not included in any earlier collection, is founded on that final edition of 1834.] A I looked upon the rotting sea, I looked to heaven, and tried to pray, I closed my eyes and kept them close, For the sky and the sea, and the sea and the sky, Lay like a load on my weary eye, The cold sweat melted from their limbs, An orphan's curse would drag to hell But oh! more horrible than that And yet I could not die. THE ANCIENT MARINER FINDS Within the shadow of the ship Blue, glossy green, and velvet black, O happy living things! no tongue A spring of love gushed from my heart Sure my kind saint took pity on me, The selfsame moment I could pray; THE BREEZE AFTER THE CALM. OH sleep! it is a gentle thing, To Mary Queen the praise be given! The silly buckets on the deck, I dreamt that they were filled with dew; My lips were wet, my throat was cold, I moved, and could not feel my limbs: I thought that I had died in sleep, And soon I heard a roaring wind: The upper air burst into life! And the coming wind did roar more loud, The Moon was at its edge. The thick black cloud was cleft, and still Like waters shot from some high crag, THE BEST PRAYER. HE prayeth best, who loveth best All things both great and small; For the dear God who loveth us, Me made and loveth all. FIRST PART OF CHristabel. 'Tis the middle of night by the castle clock, And the owls have awaken'd the crowing cock, Tu-whit! -Tu-whoo! And hark, again! the crowing cock, Sir Leoline, the Baron rich, From her kennel beneath the rock Ever and aye, by shine and shower, Is the night chilly and dark? way. The lovely lady, Christabel, She stole along, she nothing spoke, And naught was green upon the oak |