Those tranquil looks suspend thy mother's anguish, SIMILE When shooting on Stapleford Moor. YE wide-spread moors, and length'ning wastes! For here neglected and forlorn Some unknown blossom greets my sight; Rears its fair head beneath the thorn, Protected from th' autumnal blight. But Winter now with hasty stride So have I seen some village maid Till specious Love, with fraudful smile, Quick from her cheeks the roses fade, C. S. THE FALLING TOWER. MARK ye the Tower whose lonely halls Re-echo to yon falling stream? Mark ye its bare and crumbling walls, There, oft, when eve in silent trance, Hears the lorn redbreast's plaintive moan, Time, casting round a cautious glance, Heaves from its base some mould'ring stone. There, tho' in Time's departed day, And many a beauty tranc'd the eye; Yet never, midst the gorgeous scene, So bright as gilds its falling hour. Oh! thus when life's gay scenes shall fade, Then may Religion's hallow'd flame And bid it seek in purer frame One bright Eternity of Day. County Magazine. TO A LADY SINGING. O, CAN that heart untouch'd remain When, mix'd with many a passion'd sigh, When sweeter languors, softer dews, And I have seen thy bosom's snow And I have mark'd th' impassion'd glance Then, Lady, sing of love again; And while thou wak'st the feeling strain, And while again thy bosom's snow That look shall tell thee all I feel; And, Lady, then thine alter'd eye Bayley's Poems. EPITAPH ON AN INFANT. BENEATH this hillock's narrow bound A lovely infant lies; 'Till the last trump shall shake the ground, And roll away the skies. Some pitying angel view'd the fair, And snatch'd her from each future snare, From all the chequer'd ills below Her little heart no pang shall know; When thousands, rising from the dust, Shall upwards lift her eyes. Let sorrow for her early doom No more in silence sigh; But Hope, that points beyond the tomb, Bid ev'ry tear be dry. Collection of Epitaphs. |