As if it were a natural shield Heart-pleased we smile upon the Bird Thrice-happy Creature! in all lands Nurtured by hospitable hands: Free entrance to this cot has he, Entrance and exit both yet free; And, when the keen unruffled weather That thus brings man and bird together, Shall with its pleasantness be past, The casement closed and door made fast, To keep at bay the howling blast, He needs not fear the season's rage, For the whole house is Robin's cage. Whether the bird flit here or there, O'er table lilt, or perch on chair, Though some may frown, and make a stir To scare him as a trespasser, And he belike will flinch or start, Good friends he has to take his part; One chiefly, who with voice and look Pleads for him from the chimney nook, Where sits the Dame, and wears away Her long and vacant holiday; With images about her heart, Reflected, from the years gone by, On human nature's second infancy. RURAL ILLUSIONS. I. SYLPH was it? or a Bird more bright Another of the flock, Through sunshine flitting from the bough Those brilliant Strangers, hailed with joy Proved last year's leaves, pushed from the spray To frolic on the breeze. 2. Maternal Flora! show thy face, And let thy hand be seen In honour of their Queen. To be confounded with live growths, 3. Not such the World's illusive shows; Her blossoms which, though shed, outbrave For the Undeceived, smile as they may, With ever-varying wiles, And transient feignings with plain truth That those fond Idlers most are pleased THIS LAWN, &c. THIS Lawn, a carpet all alive With shadows flung from leaves-to strive Of sunshine-an apt emblem yields Less quick the stir when tide and breeze Encounter, and to narrow seas Forbid a moment's rest; The medley less when boreal Lights To feats of arms addrest! Yet, spite of all this eager strife, That serves the steadfast hours, THOUGHT ON THE SEASONS. FLATTERED with promise of escape From every hurtful blast, Spring takes, O sprightly May! thy shape, Her loveliest and her last. Less fair is summer riding high In fierce solstitial power, When earth repays with golden sheaves What pensive beauty autumn shows, Of winter rushing in, to close Such be our Spring, our Summer such ; With hoary Winter, and Life touch. HUMANITY. (WRITTEN IN THE YEAR 1829.) Not from his fellows only man may learn Rights to compare and duties to discern: All creatures and all objects, in degree, Are friends and patrons of humanity.—MS. [The Rocking-stones, alluded to in the beginning of the following verses, are supposed to have been used, by our British ancestors, both for judicial and religious purposes. Such stones are not uncommonly found, at this day, both in Great Britain and in Ireland.] WHAT though the Accused, upon his own ⚫ appeal To righteous Gods when Man has ceased to feel, Or at a doubting Judge's stern command, Before the STONE OF POWER no longer stand To take his sentence from the balanced Block, As, at his touch, it rocks, or seems to rock; Though, in the depths of sunless groves, no more The Druid-priest the hallowed Oak adore; Yet, for the Initiate, rocks and whispering trees Do still perform mysterious offices! Upon the heart, in more authentic guise And to fallen Man their innocence is dear. Knraptured Art draws from those sacred springs Streams that reflect the poetry of things! Where Christian Martyrs stand in hues portrayed, That, might a wish avail, would never fade. Borne in their hands the Lily and the Palm Shed round the Altar a celestial calm; There, too, behold the Lamb and guileless Dove Prest in the tenderness of virgin love To saintly bosoms!-Glorious is the blending Of right Affections, climbing or descending Up to the sovereign seat of the Most High; Gave, in the Field of Luz, to Jacob's sight; stairs What a fair World were ours for Verse to paint, If Power could live at ease with selfrestraint! Opinion bow before the naked sense That looks for evil like a treacherous spy; Disputes would then relax, like stormy winds That into breezes sink; impetuous Minds Would braid his golden locks at Wisdom's side; Love ebb and flow untroubled by caprice; And not alone harsh tyranny would cease, But unoffending creatures find release From quatified oppression, whose defence Rests on a hollow plea of recom.pence: Thought-tempered wrongs, for each humane respect Oft worse to bear, or deadlier in effect. Witness those glances of indignant scorn From some high-minded Slave, impelled to spurn The kindness that would make him less forlorn ; Or, if the soul to bondage be subdued, Alas for thee, bright Galaxy of Isles, Where day departs in pomp, returns with smiles To greet the flowers and fruitage of a land, As the sun mounts, by sea-borne breezes fanned; A land whose azure mountain-tops are seats For Gods in council, whose green vales, Retreats Earthward or heavenward, radiant Mes-Fit sengers, That with a perfect will in one accord Of strict obedience, served the Almighty Lord; And with untired humility forbore The ready service of the wings they wore. for the Shades of Heroes, mingling there To breathe Elysian peace in upper air. Though cold as winter, gloomy as the Stone-walls a Prisoner make, but not a The author is indebted, here, to a passage Shall Man assume a property in Man? in one of Mr. Digby's valuable works. Shame that our laws at distance should | Is, and the pillar of the throat would be protect Enormities, which they at home reject! "Slaves cannot breathe in England"-a proud boast! And yet a mockery! if, from coast to coast, Though fettered slave be none, her floors and soil Groan underneath a weight of slavish toil, That to an Idol, falsely called "the Wealth The Power least prized is that which thinks and feels. Then, for the pastimes of this delicate age, And all the heavy or light vassalage Which for their sakes we fasten, as may suit Our varying moods, on human kind or brute, 'Twere well in little, as in great, to pause, Lest Fancy trifle with eternal laws. There are to whom even garden, grove, and field, Perpetual lessons of forbearance yield; Who would not lightly violate the grace The lowliest flower possesses in its place; Nor shorten the sweet li e, too fugitive, Which nothing less than Infinite Power could give. LINES SUGGESTED BY A PORTRAIT FROM THE BEGUILED into forgetfulness of care Or seems to charm it, into like repose; In a white vest, white as her marble neck But for the shadow by the drooping chin Cast into that recess-the tender shade The shade and light, both there and everywhere, And through the very atmosphere she breathes, Broad, clear, and toned harmoniously, with skill That might from nature have been learnt in the hour When the lone Shepherd sees the morning spread Upon the mountains. Look at her, whoe'er Thou be, that kindling with a poet's soul Hast loved the painter's true Promethean craft Intensely from Imagination take The treasure, what mine eyes behold see thou, Even though the Atlantic Ocean roll between. A silver line, that runs from brow to crown, And in the middle parts the braided hair, eyes, Soft and capacious as a cloudless sky Whose azure depth their colour emulates, Must needs be conversant with upward looks, Prayer's voiceless service; but now, seeking naught And shunning naught, their own peculiar life Of motion they renounce, and with the head Offspring of soul-bewitching Art, make me Thy confidant! say, whence derived that air Of calm abstraction? Can the ruling thought Be with some lover far away, or one Crossed by misfortune, or of doubted faith? Inapt conjecture! Childhood here, a moon Crescent in simple loveliness serene, Has but approached the gates of womanhood, Not entered them; her heart is yet unpierced By the blind Archer-god, her fancy free: The fount of feeling, if unsought elsewhere, Will not be found. |