The swains all admir'd it, its praises repeat,
An emblem of virtue so simple and sweet;
But the blight marr'd the blossom, and soon, well-a-day,
The rose of the valley it wither'd away.
The rose of the valley a truth can impart,
By the rose of the valley I picture my heart;
The sun of content cheer'd the morn of its birth,
By innocence render'd a heaven on earth;
But virtue and peace left the spot, well-a-day!
And the rose of the valley it wither'd away.
THE HEART THAT O'ERFLOWS WITH GOOD NATURE.
OH! grant me, ye powers, as thro' life's rugged road,
On I jog to eternity's brink,
A mind which no vile boist'rous passion can goad,
Or cause it from honour to shrink;
Give me friendship sincere, social, cheerful, and kind,
The prime blessing of each human creature;
And let me in every companion find
A heart that o'erflows with good nature.
The wise I admire-they illumine the night
That ignorant bigots adore;
The great I revere, in the good I delight,
For the poor I soft pity implore-
Old age I respect and I honour the brave,
"Tis the duty of each human creature;
But still for the friend of my bosom I crave,
A heart that o'erflows with good nature..
Hail virtue! hail beauty! sweet woman all hail!
Thy softness I tenderly prize,
"Tis thine to delight when all other joys fail,
And lift us with bliss to the skies.
But why thus excel-why surpass all the rest?
Why exceedest thou each human creature?
Because, lovely fair one, enthron'd in thy breast,
Dwells a heart that o'erflows with good nature.
THE JOYS OF AN HUMBLE STATE.
How happily my life I led,
Without a day of sorrow;
To plough and sow, to reap and mow,
No care beyond the morrow;
In heat or cold, in wet or dry,
I never grumbled-no not I:
My wife, 'tis true, loves words a few,
What then I let her prate;
For sometimes smooth and sometimes rough
I found myself quite rich enough
In the joys of an humble state.
But when with Law I craz'd my head,
I lost both peace and pleasure,
Long says to hear, to search and swear,
And pleagued beyond all measure;
One grievance brought another on,
My debts increase, my stock is gone;
My wife, she says, our means 'twill raise,
What then, 'tis idle prate,
For sometimes smooth, &c.
UPON the hill he stood, to take his last sad look
Of the valley, and the village-church, the cottage and
the brook ;
He listen❜d to those sounds, so familiar to his ear,
The soldier lean'd upon his sword and wip'd away the
Close by that cottage porch, a lass was on her knees, She wav'd on high a snowy scarf, which flutter'd in the breeze;
She breath'd a prayer for him, a prayer he could not hear,
And he paus'd to bless her as she knelt, and wip'd away the tear.
He turn'd and left the spot, Oh do not deem him weak, For dauntless was the soldier's heart, the tear was on his cheek;
Go, watch the foremost ranks in duty's mad careerThe hand in battle daring often wip'd away the tear.
THE MAIDEN'S TEAR.
Bayley. THERE stood a bright tear in the fair maiden's eye : Oh! was it for sorrow or was it for joy?
The youth whom she lov'd had return'd from the wars, His name gemm'd with glory-his brow wreath'd with
In the lists of the brave, what name rank'd to high?
Then why stood the tear in the maidens bright eye?
Oh! the tear was of sorrow unblended with joy,
When she thought of the feelings that time could destroy,
How fair hope could wither, and fond love decay,
And hearts, once the warmest, turn coldly away!
How vows that were plighted by true hearts, and free,
And love deeply sworn, forgotten might be !
All gaily he came and though now on his form
Were the marks of his braving war's pitiless storm,
And THOUGH TITLES OF HONOUR had alter'd his name,
Unchanged and unshaken, his heart was the same—
And firm to its faith, and as true as her sigh-
'Twas the bright tear of joy in the maiden's bright eye!
LOVELY truth! thy steady eye
Can strike the villain's heart with shame;
When modesty, thy firm ally.
Without a sword,
Without a word,
Her angel brow uprears!
Her single glance, when thou art by,
spear and shield-the foe must fly,
Or crouch to truth and modesty,
To woman's scorn or tears!
THE seamen who upon some coral reef
Are cast, amid the unfathomable main,
Still clings to life, and hoping for relief,
Drags on their days of wretchedness and pain.
In turtle-shells they hoard the scanty rain,
And eat its flesh, sun-dried for lack of fire,
Till the weak body can no more sustain
Its wants, but sinks beneath its sufferings dire:
Most miserable man who sees the rest expire!
He lingers there while months and years go by;
And holds his hope, tho' months and years have past;
And still at morning, round the farther sky,
And still at eve, his eagle glance is cast,
If there he may behold the far-off mast
Arise, for which he hath not ceas'd to pray :
And if, perchance, a ship should come at last,
And bear him from that dismal bank away,
He blesses God, that he hath liv'd to see the day.
THE Minstrel Boy to the war is gone,
In the ranks of death you'll find him ;
His father's sword he has girded on,
And his wild harp slung behind him.
'Land of Song" said the warrior bard,
Though all the world betray thee;
One sword, at least, thy rights shall guard,
One faithful heart shall praise thee."
The Minstrel fell!-but the foeman's chain,
Could not bring his PROUD Soul under ;
The harp he lov'd ne'er spoke again,
For he tore its chords asunder;
And said " No chains shall sully thee,
Thou soul of love and bravery;
Thy songs were made for the pure and free,
Thou never shall sound in slavery."
HERE first I met the lovely maid,
When hope was young and dar'd not soar; And round my heart a flame has play'd,
That binds me to those shades the more.
Touch'd by the breeze, with graceful wing,
The tow ring branches mingling play,
When the sap dances up in spring,
And when their autumn leaves decay.
What joys may rural conquerors prove,
Far from the dreadful conquest's roar !
I've rescued her, the maid I love;
Dear shades, I prize you still the more!
WHEN in doubt and sorrow sinking,
Sits the pensive child of woe,
Pale with grief, and deeply thinking
On the ills that bend him low;
Still he finds a balsam healing,
Still appears a cheering ray,
When bright scenes on high revealing,
Hope's blest radiance lights his way.
Yes the eye cast down in sadness,
Glistens bright when hope is near;
Then return's the smile of gladness,
Ends the gloomy reign of fear.
As the glorious bow looks brightly
Through the cold descending shower;
So, with hope before us, lightly
Press the pangs of sorrow's hour.
Hope! sure pilot sent to guide us,
Through life's deep and troubled sea;
Be thy friendly form beside us,
Be our labours cheer'd by thee:
Thou, the star before us blazing,
Thou, our ark's consoling dove,
All our vows and efforts raising
To the lasting joys above.
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