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All voices sad and clear, Banished to silence drear, The willing thrall of trances sweet I lie.
Some melancholy gale
With her sighs;
And o'er my thoughts are cast
Renewed to splendor in my dreaming eyes.
As poised on vibrant wings,
Where its sweet treasure swings,
The honey-lover clings
To the red flowers,
So, lost in vivid light,
So, rapt from day and night,
Enraptured o'er the vision-freighted hours.
BENEATH a shivering canopy reclined,
DR. JOHN LEYDEN.
ON A BEAUTIFUL DAY.
O UNSEEN Spirit! now a calm divine
Comes forth from thee, rejoicing earth and air! Trees, hills, and houses, all distinctly shine,
And thy great ocean slumbers everywhere.
The mountain ridge against the purple sky
The chime of bells remote, the murmuring sea, The song of birds in whispering copse and wood, The distant voice of children's thoughtless glee, And maiden's song, are all one voice of good. Amid the leaves' green mass a sunny play
Of flash and shadow stirs like inward life; The ship's white sail glides onward far away, Unhaunted by a dream of storm or strife. JOHN STERLING,
THE MIDGES DANCE ABOON THE BURN.
THE midges dance aboon the burn;
The pairtricks down the rushy holm
Now loud and clear the black bird's sang
Beneath the golden gloamin' sky The mavis mends her lay;
The redbreast pours his sweetest strains
Gaes jinking through the thorn.
The roses fauld their silken leaves,
The foxglove shuts its bell; The honeysuckle and the birk
Spread fragrance through the dell. Let others crowd the giddy court Of mirth and revelry,
The simple joys that nature yields Are dearer far to me.
THE EVENING WIND.
SPIRIT that breathest through my lattice. thou That cool'st the twilight of the sultry day! Gratefully flows thy freshness round my brow; Thou hast been out upon the deep at play, Riding all day the wild blue waves till now,
Roughening their crests, and scattering high their spray,
And swelling the white sail. I welcome thee
Nor I alone, - a thousand bosoms round
And languishing to hear thy welcome sound, Lies the vast inland, stretched beyond the sight. Go forth into the gathering shade; go forth, God's blessing breathed upon the fainting earth ! Go, rock the little wood-bird in his nest;
Curl the still waters, bright with stars; and rouse The wide old wood from his majestic rest,
Summoning, from the innumerable boughs, The strange deep harmonies that haunt his breast.
Pleasant shall be thy way where meekly bows The shutting flower, and darkling waters pass, And where the o'ershadowing branches sweep
Star of love's soft interviews, Parted lovers on thee muse; Their remembrancer in heaven Of thrilling vows thou art, Too delicious to be riven
By absence from the heart.
CAPE-COTTAGE AT SUNSET.
WE stood upon the ragged rocks,
Blew the red tresses of the sun.
Along the west the golden bars
Still to a deeper glory grew; Above our heads the faint, few stars
Looked out from the unfathomed blue; And the fair city's clamorous jars Seemed melted in that evening hue.
O sunset sky! O purple tide!
O friends to friends that closer pressed! Those glories have in darkness died,
And ye have left my longing breast.
W. B. GLAZIER.
IF solitude hath ever led thy steps
Hung o'er the sinking sphere:
Crowned with a diamond wreath. And yet there is a moment, When the sun's highest point Peeps like a star o'er ocean's western edge, When those far clouds of feathery gold,
Shaded with deepest purple, gleam Like islands on a dark-blue sea; Then has thy fancy soared above the earth, And furled its wearied wing Within the Fairy's fane.
EVENING IN PARADISE.
Now came still evening on, and twilight gray Had in her sober livery all things clad; Silence accompanied; for beast and bird, They to their grassy couch, these to their nests, Were slunk, all but the wakeful nightingale; She all night long her amorous descant sung. Silence was pleased: now glowed the firmament With living sapphires; Hesperus, that led The starry host, rode brightest, till the moon, Rising in clouded majesty, at length Apparent queen, unveiled her peerless light, And o'er the dark her silver mantle threw. When Adam thus to Eve: "Fair consort, the hour
Of night, and all things now retired to rest,
Our walk at noon, with branches overgrown,
To whom thus Eve with perfect beauty adorned: "My author and disposer, what thou bidd'st Unargued I obey; so God ordains;
God is thy law, thou mine; to know no more
On to their blissful bower.
SWIFTLY walk over the western wave,
Wrap thy form in a mantle gray,
Blind with thine hair the eyes of Day,
When I arose and saw the dawn,
When light rode high, and the dew was gone,
MYSTERIOUS Night! when our first parent knew
Within thy beams, O Sun! or who could find,
How beautiful this night! the balmiest sigh
Studded with stars unutterably bright,
Seems like a canopy which love has spread
Her soul above this sphere of earthliness; Where silence undisturbed might watch alone, So cold, so bright, so still.
The orb of day In southern climes o'er ocean's waveless field Sinks sweetly smiling: not the faintest breath Steals o'er the unruffled deep; the clouds of eve Reflect unmoved the lingering beam of day; And vesper's image on the western main Is beautifully still. To-morrow comes : Cloud upon cloud, in dark and deepening mass, Rolls o'er the blackened waters; the deep roar Of distant thunder mutters awfully; Tempest unfolds its pinion o'er the gloom That shrouds the boiling surge; the pitiless fiend, With all his winds and lightnings, tracks his prey; The torn deep yawns, the vessel finds a grave Beneath its jagged gulf.
PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY.
FROM CHILDE HAROLD."
'Tis night, when Meditation bids us feel We once have loved, though love is at an end: The heart, lone mourner of its baffled zeal, Though friendless now, will dream it had a friend.
Who with the weight of years would wish to bend, When Youth itself survives young Love and joy! Alas! when mingling souls forget to blend, Death hath but little left him to destroy ! Ah happy years! once more who would not be a boy?
Night is the time to watch:
O'er ocean's dark expanse, To hail the Pleiades, or catch
Those graves of Memory, where sleep
Hopes, that were Angels at their birth,
The full moon's earliest glance, That brings into the homesick mind All we have loved and left behind.
Night is the time for care:
Brooding on hours misspent, To see the spectre of Despair Come to our lonely tent;
Like Brutus, midst his slumbering host, Summoned to die by Cæsar's ghost.
Night is the time to think :
When, from the eye, the soul
Takes flight; and on the utmost brink Of yonder starry pole