Speaks for itself;-an Infant there doth rest,

The sheltering Hillock is the Mother's

grave.
If mild discourse, and manners that conferred
A natural dignity on humblest rank ;
If gladsome spirits, and benignant looks,
That for a face not beautiful did more

Than beauty for the fairest face can do ;
And if religious tenderness of heart,

Grieving for sin, and penitential tears

Shed when the clouds had gathered and distained

The spotless ether of a maiden life ;

If these may make a hallowed spot of earth

More holy in the sight of God or Man;
Then, on that mold, a sanctity shall brood,
Till the stars sicken at the day of doom.

Ah! what a warning for a thoughtless Man, Could field or grove, or any spot of earth,

Shew to his eye an image of the pangs

Which it hath witnessed, render back an echo... Of the sad steps by which it hath been trod! There, by her innocent Baby's precious grave, Yea, doubtless, on the turf that roofs her own,

The Mother oft was seen to stand, or kneel
In the broad day, a weeping Magdalene.
Now she is not; the swelling turf reports
Of the fresh shower, but of poor Ellen's tears
Is silent; nor is any vestige left

Upon the pathway, of her mournful tread ;

Nor of that pace with which she once had moved
In virgin fearlessness, a step that seemed
Caught from the pressure of elastic turf

Upon the mountains wet with morning dew,

In the prime hour of sweetest scents and airs.
-Serious and thoughtful was her mind; and yet,
By reconcilement exquisite and rare,

The form, port, motions of this Cottage-girl
Were such as might have quickened and inspired
A Titian's hand, addressed to picture forth
Oread or Dryad glancing through the shade
When first the Hunter's startling horn is heard
Upon the golden hills. A spreading Elm
Stands in our Valley, called THE JOYFUL TREE;

An Elm distinguished by that festive name,
From dateless usage which our Peasants hold

Of giving welcome to the first of May

By dances round its trunk.-And if the sky
Permit, like honours, dance and song, are paid
To the Twelfth Night; beneath the frosty Stars
Or the clear Moon. The Queen of these gay sports,
If not in beauty yet in sprightly air,

Was hapless Ellen.-No one touched the ground
So deftly, and the nicest Maiden's locks
Less gracefully were braided ;-but this praise,
Methinks, would better suit another place.

She loved,—and fondly deemed herself beloved. The road is dim, the current unperceived,

The weakness painful and most pitiful,

By which a virtuous Woman, in pure youth,
May be delivered to distress and shame.

Such fate was hers.-The last time Ellen danced,
Among her Equals, round THE JOYFUL TREE,
She bore a secret burthen; and full soon
Was left to tremble for a breaking vow, -
Then, to bewail a sternly-broken vow,
Alone, within her widowed Mother's house.
It was the season sweet, of budding leaves,
Of days advancing tow'rds their utmost length,

And small birds singing to their happy mates.
Wild is the music of the autumnal wind

Among the faded woods; but these blithe notes
Strike the deserted to the heart;-I speak

Of what I know, and what we feel within.
-Beside the Cottage in which Ellen dwelt
Stands a tall ash-tree; to whose topmost twig
A Thrush resorts, and annually chaunts,

At morn and evening, from that naked perch,
While all the undergrove is thick with leaves,

A time-beguiling ditty, for delight

Of his fond partner, silent in the nest.

-"Ah why," said Ellen, sighing to herself,

"Why do not words, and kiss, and solemn pledge;

"And nature that is kind in Woman's breast,

"And reason that in Man is wise and good,

"And fear of him who is a righteous Judge,

66

Why do not these prevail for human life,

"To keep two Hearts together, that began

"Their spring-time with one love, and that have need

"Of mutual pity and forgiveness, sweet

"To grant, or be received, while that poor Bird,

66 -O come and hear him! Thou who hast to me

PP

"Been faithless, hear him, though a lowly Creature,

"One of God's simple children that yet know not "The universal Parent, how he sings

"As if he wished, the firmament of Heaven

"Should listen, and give back to him the voice

"Of his triumphant constancy and love;
"The proclamation that he makes, how far
"His darkness doth transcend our fickle light!"

Such was the tender passage, not by me Repeated without loss of simple phrase, Which I perused, even as the words had been

Committed by forsaken Ellen's hand

To the blank margin of a Valentine,

Bedropped with tears. "Twill please you to be told
That, studiously withdrawing from the eye
Of all companionship, the Sufferer yet

In lonely reading found a meek resource.
How thankful for the warmth of summer days,
And their long twilight!-friendly to that stealth
With which she slipped into the Cottage-barn,
And found a secret oratory there;

Or, in the garden, pored upon her book