the Comets forget not,

Yea, in the measureless distance wheel round, and again they behold thee!

Fadeless and young (and what if the latest birth of Creation?)

Bride and consort of Heaven, that looks down upon thee enamored!

Say, mysterious Earth! O say, great Mother and Goddess!

Was it not well with thee then, when first thy lap was ungirdled,

Thy lap to the genial Heaven, the day that he wooed thee and won thee!

Fair was thy blush, the fairest and first of the blushes

of morning!

Deep was the shudder, O Earth! the throe of thy self-retention:

July thou strovest to flee, and didst seek thyself at thy centre!

Mightier far was the joy of thy sudden resilience; and forthwith

Myriad myriads of lives teemed forth from the mighty

embracement,

AND EXEMPLIFIED.

IN the hexameter rises the fountain's silvery column; In the pentameter aye falling in melody back.

V. A VERSIFIED REFLECTION.

[A Force is the provincial term in Cumberland for any narrow fall of water from the summit of a mountain precipice. The following stanza (it may not arrogate the name of poem) or versified reflection, parallel Forces, on a moonlight night, at the foot of was composed while the author was gazing on three

the Saddleback Fell.-S. T. C.]

On stern BLENCARTHUR'S perilous height
The wind is tyrannous and strong:
And flashing forth unsteady light
From stern Blencarthur's skiey height
As loud the torrents throng!

sand-fold instincts,

Laughed on their shores the hoarse seas: the yearn

ing ocean swelled upward:

Young life lowed through the meadows, the woods, and the echoing mountains,

Wandered bleating in valleys, and warbled in blos. soming branches.

LOVE'S GHOST AND RE-EVANITION.

AN ALLEGORIC ROMANCE.

Like a lone ARAB, old and blind,
Some caravan had left behind;
Who sits beside a ruin'd well,

And now he cowers with low-hung head aslant,
Where the shy Dipsads* bask and swell!
And listens for some human sound in vain :

And now the aid, which Heaven alone can grant,
Even thus, in languid mood and vacant hour,
Upturns his eyeless face from Heaven to gain-
With brow low-bent, within my garden bower,
Resting my eye upon a drooping plant,
And lo!-or was it a brief sleep, the while
I sate upon its couch of Camomile :
I watch'd the sickly calm and aimless scope
Of my own heart?—I saw the inmate, HOPE,

That once had made that heart so warm,
Lie lifeless at my feet!

And Love stole in, in maiden form,

Toward my arbor-seat!

She bent and kissed her sister's lips,
As she was wont to do:
Alas! 't was but a chilling breath,
That woke enough of life in death
To make HOPE die anew.

*The Asps of the sand-deserts, anciently named Dipsads.

LIGHT-HEARTEDNESS IN RHYME.

Thus long accustomed on the twy-fork'd hill,* To pluck both flower and floweret at my will;

never dares talk nonsense."— Anon.

I. THE REPROOF AND REPLY: OR, THE FLOWER-THIEF'S APOLOGY, FOR A ROBBERY COMMITTED IN MR. AND MRS. —'S GARDEN, ON SUNDAY MORNING, 25TH OF MAY, 1833, BETWEEN

THE HOURS OF ELEVEN AND TWELVE.

"FIE, Mr. Coleridge!—and can this be you?
Break two commandments?-and in church-time too?
Have you not heard, or have you heard in vain,
The birth-and-parentage-recording strain?—
Confessions shrill, that shrill cried mack'rel drown
Fresh from the drop-the youth not yet cut down
Letter to sweet-heart-the last dying speech
And did'nt all this begin in Sabbath-breach?
You, that knew better! In broad open day
Steal in, steal out, and steal our flowers away?
What could possess you? Ah! sweet youth, I fear,
The chap with horns and tail was at your ear!"

Such sounds, of late, accusing fancy brought
From fair C to the Poet's thought.
Now hear the meek Parnassian youth's reply:-
A bow-a pleading look-a downcast eye —
And then:

"Fair dame! a visionary wight,
Hard by your hill-side mansion sparkling white,
His thought all hovering round the Muses' home,
Long hath it been your Poet's wont to roam.
And many a morn, on his bed-charmed sense,
So rich a stream of music issued thence,
He deem'd himself, as it flow'd warbling on,
Beside the vocal fount of Helicon!
But when, as if to settle the concern,
A nymph too he beheld, in many a turn,
Guiding the sweet rill from its fontal urn;
Say, can you blame?—No! none, that saw and heard,
Could blame a bard, that he, thus inly stirr'd,
A muse beholding in each fervent trait,
Took Mary H-for Polly Hymnia!
Or, haply as thou stood beside the maid
One loftier form in sable stole arrayed,
If with regretful thought he hail'd in thee,
C―m, his long-lost friend Mol Pomonè?
But most of you, soft warblings, I complain!
'Twas ye, that from the bee-hive of my brain
Did lure the fancies forth, a freakish rout,
And witched the air with dreams turn'd inside out.

Thus all conspired-each power of eye and ear,
And this gay month, th' enchantress of the year,
To cheat poor me (no conjurer, God wot!)
And C-m's self accomplice in the plot.
Can you then wonder if I went astray?
Not bards alone, nor lovers mad as they-
All Nature day-dreams in the month of May,
And if I pluck'd'each flower that sweetest blows'—
Who walks in sleep, needs follow must his nose.

Nor common law, nor statute in my head;
For my own proper smell, sight, fancy, feeling,
With autocratic hand at once repealing
Five Acts of Parliament 'gainst private stealing!
But yet from Cm, who despairs of grace?
There's no spring-gun nor man-trap in that face!
Let Moses then look black, and Aaron blue,
That look as if they had little else to do:
For Cm speaks. Poor youth! he's but a waif
The spoons all right? The hen and chickens safe?
Well, well, ne shall not forfeit our regards –
The Eighth Commandment was not made for Bards!'

44

II. IN ANSWER TO A FRIEND'S QUESTION. Her attachment may differ from yours in degree, Provided they are both of one kind ; But friendship, how tender so ever it be,

Gives no accord to love, however refined.

Love, that meets not with love, its true nature revealing,

Grows ashamed of itself, and demurs:

If you cannot lift hers up to your state of feeling, You must lower down your state to hers.

III. LINES TO A COMIC AUTHOR, ON AN Abu SIVE REVIEW.

WHAT though the chilly wide-mouth'd quacking

chorus

From the rank swamps of murk Review-land croak
So was it, neighbour, in the times before us,
When Momus, throwing on his Attic cloak,
Romped with the Graces: and each tickled Muse
(That Turk, Dan Phœbus, whom bards call divine,
Was married to at least, he kept — all nine) —
They fled; but with reverted faces ran!
Yet, somewhat the broad freedoms to excuse,
They had allured the audacious Greek to use,
Swore they mistook him for their own Good Man
This Momus-Aristophanes on earth

Men called him-maugre all his wit and worth,
Was croaked and gabbled at. How, then, should you,
Or I, Friend, hope to 'scape the skulking crew?
No: laugh, and say aloud, in tones of glee,
"I hate the quacking tribe, and they hate me!"

IV. AN EXPECTORATION,

OR SPLENETIC EXTEMPORE, ON MY JOYFUL DEPARTURE FROM THE CITY OF COLOGNE.

As I am Rhymer,

And now at least a merry one, Mr. MUM's Rudesheimer t

And the church of St. Geryon

The English Parnassus is remarkable for its two summits of unequal height, the lower denominated Hampstead, U higher Highgate.

†The apotheosis of Rhenish wine.

JULIA was blest with beauty, wit, and grace: Small poets loved to sing her blooming face. Before her altars, lo! a numerous train Preferr'd their vows; yet all preferr'd in vain: Till charming Florio, born to conquer, came, And touch'd the fair one with an equal flame.

LADY'S BEAUTY.

"Tis not the lily brow I prize,

Nor roseate cheeks, nor sunny eyes, Enough of lilies and of roses!

A thousand fold more dear to me The gentle look that love discloses, The look that love alone can see.

THE POET'S ANSWER TO A LADY'S QUESTION RESPECTING THE ACCOMPLISHMENTS MOST DESIRABLE IN AN INSTRUCTRESS OF

CHILDREN.

O'ER wayward childhood would'st thou hold firm rule,
And sun thee in the light of happy faces;
LOVE, HOPE, and PATIENCE, these must be thy Graces,
And in thine own heart let them first keep school.
For as old Atlas on his broad neck places
Heaven's starry globe, and there sustains it; so
Do these upbear the little world below
Of Education, PATIENCE, LOVE, and HOPE.
Methinks, I see them group'd in seemly show,
The straiten'd arms upraised, the palms aslope
And robes that touching, as adown they flow,
Distinctly blend, like snow emboss'd in snow.
O part them never! If HOPE prostrate lie,

LOVE too will sink and die.
But Love is subtle, and will proof derive
From her own life that HOPE is yet alive.
And bending o'er, with soul-transfusing eyes,
And the soft murmurs of the Mother Dove,
Wooes back the fleeting spirit, and half supplies:
Thus Love repays to HOPE what HOPE first gave to
Love.

The German name of Cologne.

Of the eleven thousand virgin martyrs.

As Necessity is the mother of Invention, and extremes beget each other, the fact above recorded may explain how this ancient town (which, alas! as sometimes happens with veni

son, has been kept too long.) came to be the birth-place of the most fragrant of spirituous fluids, the Eau de Cologne.

What every look and action would reveal.
With boldness then, which seldom fails to move,
He pleads the cause of marriage and of love;
The course of hymeneal joys he rounds,

The fair one's eyes dance pleasure at the sounds.
Nought now remain'd but "Noes"-how little

meant

And the sweet coyness that endears consent.
The youth upon his knees enraptured fell:-
The strange misfortune, oh! what words can tell!
Tell! ye neglected sylphs! who lap-dogs guard,
Why snatch'd ye not away your precious ward!
Why suffer'd ye the lover's weight to fall
On the ill-fated neck of much-loved Ball?
The favorite on his mistress casts his eyes,
Gives a short melancholy howl, and — dies!
Sacred his ashes lie, and long his rest!
Anger and grief divide poor Julia's breast.
Her eyes she fix'd on guilty Florio first,
On him the storm of angry grief must burst.
That storm he fled :- he wooes a kinder fair,
Whose fond affections no dear puppies share.
"T were vain to tell how Julia pined away;-
Unhappy fair, that in one luckless day
(From future almanacs the day be cross'd!)
At once her lover and her lap-dog lost!