No cannons peal! no bells are rung ! From Thames to Ganges' shore !— 'Tis past, and, like forgotten things, The birth-day of the best of Kings, We celebrate no more! Yet history's shall mark the morn, page When England's George the Third was born; Shall call that monarch good and just, No frail memorial this of flattering art;— 1 I spring from the gold mottled east As the fresh wind from prison set free When on the young wings of the morn I am found in the night's starry crown, I sleep in the cup that it wreathes, W. D. SONNET. TO THE MEMORY OF Had I the power above this mortal state So many hopes to shake the human heart; Above it-hush! the star of morning sings, Alastor. WHAT'S EARTHLY HOPE? What's earthly hope ?-a worthless thing, A fancied form to which we cling What's earthly hope ?-a glittering light What's earthly hope ?-a jewelled cup I've held thee long, thou worthless thing, For man's illusion given; To earthly hope no more I cling, In nought I trust but Heaven! Anon. SMILE THROUGH THY TEARS. Smile through thy tears like the blush moss-rose, When the warm rains fall around it; Thy fond heart now may seek repose, And But the pang is longer and deeper still, Smile through thy tears like the pale primrose, In me let thy trembling heart repose, Ere Henry slept, where the alders wave Thomas Lyle. |