Chapter I: CANNA sleep a wink, lassie,

When I gang to bed at night,
But still o' thee I think, lassie,
Till morning sheds its light.
I lie an' think o' thee, lassie,
And I toss frae side to side,
Like a vessel on the sea, lassie,
When stormy is the tide.

My heart is no my ain, lassie,
It winna bide wi' me,
Like a birdie it has gane, lassie,
To nestle saft wi' thee.
I canna lure it back, lassie,
Sae keep it to yoursel';
But oh! it sune will brak, lassie,
If you dinna use it well.

Where the treasure is they say, lassie,
The spirit lingers there,
An' mine has fled away, lassie,
You needna' ask me where.
I marvel oft if rest, lassie,
On my eyes and heart wad bide,
If I thy troth possessed, lassie,
And thou wert at my side.

YONDER SUNNY BRAE.

ON yonder sunny brae we met,
Amid the summer flowers;
And never can my heart forget
The rapture of those hours,
When she I loved forsook her home
And there with me did stray,
Oh! oft delighted did we roam
On yonder sunny brae.

The gushing of the waterfall,
The sunshine of the sky,
The bloom, the balm, and, more than all,
The sparkle of her eye,
Brought to my heart a blissful tide
That drove all care away,
And I was happy at her side,
On yonder sunny brae.

'Twas there I breathed my fondest vow,
Nor told my love in vain;
And I am happy with her now,
Though years have passed since then.
No sweeter scene my eyes shall see
Though far my steps should stray:
There's not a spot so dear to me
As yonder sunny brae.

THE EAGLE'S NEST, AND OTHER POEMS.

HERE FIRST PRINTED.

THE EAGLE'S NEST.

GRACE ADAM was a farmer's daughter,
Her youth in the far west was spent,
Where Mississippi's mighty water
Rolls like a flood that will have vent.

She was a blooming country maiden,
Like those one sees in market towns,
With egg and butter baskets laden,
Dressed in their smartest hats and gowns.

In household work and dairy labours
Her time passed pleasantly away,
A pattern she to all the neighbours,
Healthy and cheerful as the day.

Grace Adam was a farmer's daughter,--
Some share of beauty she could boast,
And lovers, near and far off, sought her,
Each striving who could flatter most.

From 'mong them all her heart selected
One gentle youth who seemed sincere,
He was by every one respected,
And more it needs not saying here.

Within an outfield stood an only
Old beech-tree, lightning-smote, and dead,--
Its branches bare, and bleached, and lonely,
An eagle built its nest amid.

Forsook the mountain's summit hoary,
The beetling cliff above the sea,
Sought not the forests of Missouri,
But sheltered on this shattered tree.

And oft to see this noble creature,
Many there came from parts thereby,
Training its young, as is its nature,
To spread their wings and upward fly.

Among the rest a student, rambling
In woods and meadows, also came,
In search of useful knowledge scrambling,
Wherever he could find the same.

Grace Adam was a farmer's daughter,--
Her father had approved her choice;
For duty and her feelings taught her
'Twere best to have her parents' voice.

Oft as the summer sunset glowing
Came down in splendour o'er the west,
The lovers forth together going,
Would wander to the eagle's nest.

And there in courtship sweet and prudent
The happy hours fast slipt away;--
And often there, too, came the student,
To watch the birds at close of day.

And so they soon became acquainted,
He knew they were betrothed before;
But while their future bliss _they_ painted,
_His_ object still was to explore.

The marriage-day, longed for yet dreaded
By maidens fair, at last came round,
Grace Adam and her love were wedded,
With hope and every blessing crowned.

Their home was in a distant city
Far, far from where her youth was spent,
Where Mississippi's water mighty
Pours like a flood that will have vent.

And never more the lordly river,
Or its green banks, was Grace to see,
The dear-loved farm, no more, and never
The lonely shattered eagle's tree.

New duties claimed now her attention,
New feelings rose at name of wife,
And as time passed, she ceased to mention
The loved scenes of her early life.

Some years had gone, and she could gather
Her children round about her knee,--
Long since in churchyard lay her father,
And fallen was the eagle's tree.

And now in course of worldly changes
Another town their home became;
For business oft-times turns the hinges
Of man's condition and his aim.

And there they settled, growing older,
But Grace aright years passing read;
For the grey hairs appearing told her
Time left its shadow on her head.

Years twenty since the farmer's daughter
Left the scenes where her youth was spent,
Where Mississippi's mighty water
Rolls like a flood that will have vent.

Within that town broke out a fever,
Smiting alike the rich and poor;
'Twas typhus, grim Death's surest lever
To turn the churchyards o'er and o'er.

Many, o'erborne with grief and watching
At couch of those oppressed with pains,
A hurried hour of slumber snatching,
Woke with the fever in their veins.

Spared not the children or the father,
Passed not the anxious mother by,
In one swift grave the parents gather
Their offspring with them as they lie.

Lamented many a one his dearest
Borne to the house whence no retrace,
Mourned high and low for friends the nearest
Soon carried to their resting place.

A time of gloom, and doubt, and terror,
A time of sorrow and dismay;
The breath of death upon life's mirror
All ghastly and infectious lay.

A time of judgment, when God's dealings
Make the most careless cry to Him,--
A time to try the human feelings,--
When even Hope grows faint and dim.

Just at the last, when near expending
Its baleful force ere sped away,
Grace caught the fever while attending
A smitten neighbour as she lay.

Grief in the house but late so cheerful,
Pain on the heart but late so light,
Her husband and her children tearful
Watched o'er her sickbed day and night.

Beat low the pulse with languid movement,
And stopped the functions of the brain,
No sign her eye gave of improvement
As day and night return again.

Hastened the Doctor, if yet human
Aid might avail to save her life,
He saw and knew the suffering woman,
Although not as a wedded wife.

Years twenty since the farmer's daughter
Had met the student at the tree,
Where Mississippi's mighty water
Rolls like a full flood to the sea.

Bent near the Doctor then, and laid he
His hand upon her wasted breast,
And with low cheerful whisper said he
No more words than "the eagle's nest!"

The change was sudden and amazing,--
Opened her eyes and closed again,
And like the keel of vessel grazing
The ground, grated her teeth in twain.

Gasped a long breath, as if a struggle
Were going on, as night with morn,
No sound made but a low faint guggle,
Like cry of infant newly born.

A smile passed o'er her features sunken,
Grasped she the hand beside her then,
Remembrance, just as one half-drunken,
Strove to retrace its course again.

Ah! then came back the well-known faces
Of her young days upon her mind,
The scenes of long ago, in traces
All clear and full and well defined.

She saw her father as he taught her
Her youthful lessons at his knee,
Where Mississippi's mighty water
Rolls like a full flood to the sea.

She saw her mother too beside her
Long, long since taken to her rest,
And then, as opened Memory wider,
She stood beneath the eagle's nest,

With him she loved, in courtship prudent,
And of love's sweetest cup she drank,
She saw again the youthful student,--
All that came after was a blank.

Thus ever Memory touched can bring time,
With its past feelings into light,
And thus the sweet joys of her spring-time
Came rushing thickly on her sight.

Thus, too, doth roused Imagination
Vibrate the tender chords that bind
The wide links of Association
Within the chambers of the mind.

Then turned the fever, as the meeting
Of the free air upon her brain,
Her pulse resumed a quickened beating,
Revolved the wheels of life again.

And day by day she gained new strength then
Beneath the Doctor's care and skill,
Able to quit her bed at length then,
'Twas this she loved to talk of still,

That when Death's dart did o'er her hover,
And she could find no sleep or rest,
'Twas this that made her to recover,
The simple words, "the eagle's nest!" (9)

THE ADVENT OF TRUTH.

A time there is, though far its dawn may be,
And shadows thick are brooding on the main,
When, like the sun upspringing from the sea,
Truth shall arise, with Freedom in its train;

And Light upon its forehead, as a star
Upon the brow of heaven, to shed its rays
Among all people, wheresoe'er they are,
And shower upon them calm and happy days.

As sunshine comes with healing on its wing,
After long nights of sorrow and unrest,
Solace and peace, and sympathy to bring
To the grieved spirit and unquiet breast.

No more shall then be heard the slave's deep groan,
Nor man man's inhumanity deplore,
All strife shall cease and war shall be unknown,
And the world's golden age return once more.

And nations now that, with Oppression's hand,
Are to the dust of Earth with sorrow bowed,
Shall then erect, in fearless vigour, stand,
And with recovered freedom shout aloud.

Along with Truth, Wisdom, her sister-twin,
Shall come--they two are never far apart,--
At their approach, to some lone cavern Sin
Shall cowering flee, as stricken to the heart.

Right shall then temper Justice, as 'tis meet
It should, and Justice give to Right its own;
Might shall its sword throw underneath its feet,
And Tyranny, unkinged, fall off its throne.

Then let us live in hope, and still prepare
Us and our children for the end, that they
Instruct may those who after them shall heir,
To watch and wait the coming of that day.

LINES,

SUGGESTED BY A WALK IN A GARDEN.

BALMY as the dew from its own blossoms,
And soothing as the fragrance it creates,
Comes the sweet influence of this summer eve
To my o'erchargëd heart--there is a breeze
Moving amid the foliage, soft and low,
As cradled murmur from a babe asleep.
It is a time for holy thoughts to spring,
And contemplation fill the awakened mind.

Lo! a bright sunbeam stands 'tween heaven and earth,
Taking its farewell look ere day departs,
And seeking still to light the gloom below,
As Hope,--even when the darkness comes, and Joy
Hath fled,--to cheer the heart, still lingering, smiles:
And when it goes,--ah! no, it ne'er all goes:--
The sunbeam fades, a moment, and its light,
All shed, dies still-born, swiftly shone and o'er;
But Hope, blest Hope, ev'n when it seems away,
Is near, evermore near, it cannot live
Apart, 'tis wedded to the soul for aye,--
God joined them twain, and nought can sunder them,--
Near, ever near, and ever bringing peace,
Groping among the dark things of man's spirit,
And shedding o'er the troubled mind its light,
As a stray ray of sunshine wanders 'mong
The shattered arches of a fallen ruin.

Ere sunset leaves the world, and sinks behind
The illumined ocean, let me muse awhile.

'Twas in a garden that that hideous thing,
Sin, first was born accurst, and now all through
The wide wide universe it ranges fierce.
Where man has placed his foot its trace is seen.
The serpent's slimy trail is everywhere,
Disfiguring, polluting, and destroying,
Death following in its track inseparably.

But oh! my soul be humbled, yet rejoice;--
It was, too, in a garden that the great,
The only all-sufficient, all-atoning
Propitiatory sacrifice for sin
Commenced its consummation, when the Man
Christ Jesus swat for thee great drops of blood,
(Even he, the Second Person of the Godhead,)
And prayed in agony that the cup might pass,
If so his Father willed; but none on earth
Or yet in Heaven could drink it, none save Him;
And when the sacrifice was all complete
On Calvary, and satisfied was Justice,
Mercy and Hope held out their hands to man,
And, in Christ's name, showed him redemption's way.
The shame and misery that Adam felt
In Eden's garden, when the first great sin
Was challenged, was as nothing to compare
With the deep agony which on that night,--
That dreadful night in which he was betrayed,--
Our Surety felt, when in Gethsemane
He took upon himself to pay the full
Ransom and penalty of that first sin
Which Adam sinned, and all his race in him.

Of that first sin did Adam put the blame
On Eve, "the woman whom thou gavest me."
Eve on the serpent shifted it, and proud
Was he that he had circumvented both,
Doomed on his womb to crawl in dust, and bruised
His head by woman's seed, short-lived his pride.--
Christ took upon Himself the sin and all
Its anguish, nor like Adam vainly strove
To shift it to another, knowing well
No other could redeem it but Himself.
Sinless, a sacrifice for sin, that sin
Might from the souls of men be washed away.
'Twas for that sin, and its infeftments wide
That Jesus died, that its entail cut off
Might be from Adam and his lineage, far
As generations yet to come extend,
And man restored to his lost paradise.
No flaming sword waves at its portals now,
Entrance to bar to the redeemed on earth;
No angels guard the gates to keep them shut,
But open ever are they to the elect,
And there bright angels stand, with joy
To welcome all who come in Christ's name in.

But now the sun hath bade the world good night,
And gathering darkness warns me to my home.

SONNET.

SUNSHINE.

ON the old forest, bright the sunrays play,
And from the boughs hang, tinging the green leaves
With golden light that downward interweaves,
Past branch and stem finding itself a way;
And on the greensward, and among the fern,
Some trace of sunshine still we can discern,
A sunbeam's scattered droppings gone astray
Among the wild-flowers, where they nestle close
Within the long grass, or the woodland moss,
Making for Earth a dress with colours gay.
Oh! on our pathway thus may sunshine fall,
And like the little flowers, our hopes still bloom,--
A share of it at least, if not it all,--
To light the darkness and to cheer the gloom.

SONG.

AT E'ENING, WHAN THE KYE WAR IN.

AT e'ening whan the kye war in,
An' lasses milking thrang,
A neebour laird cam ben the byre,
The busy maids amang.
He stood ahint the routin' kye
An' round him glowered a wee,
Then stole to whar young Peggy sat,
The milkpail at her knee.

"Sweet Peggy, lass," thus spoke the laird,
"Wilt listen to my tale?"
"Stan' out the gate, laird," Peggy cried,
"Or you will coup the pail:
"Mind, Hawkie here's a timorous beast,
An' no acquent wi you."
"Ne'er fash," quo' he, "the milking time's
The sweetest time to woo.

"Ye ken, I've aften tauld ye that
I've thretty kye and mair,
"An' ye'd be better owning them
Than sittin' milkin' there.
"My house is bein, and stocket weel
In hadden and in ha',
"An' ye've but just to sae the word
Tae leddy be o' a'."

"Wheesht, laird," quo Peggy, "dinna mak'
Yersel a fule an' me,
"I thank ye, for yer offer kind,
But sae it canna be.
"Maybe yer weel stocked house and farm,
An' thretty lowing kine,
"May win some ither lassie's heart,
They hae nae charms for mine;

"For in the kirk I hae been cried,
My troth is pledged and sworn,
"An' tae the man I like mysel',
I'll married be the morn'."
The laird, dumfoundered at her words,
Had nae mair will to try'r;
But turned, and gaed far faster out,
Than he'd come in the byre.

STANZAS

ON A BUST OF MARSHAL NEY,

_Presented by the Prince De Moskwa to Donald Sinclair,
Esq. Edinburgh._

THERE stands the hero, "bravest of the brave,"
A name well earned, that he to whom alone
NEY, second, scarce to him, in glory shone,
After a hard fought day in honour gave:
And ever shall his laurels greenly wave,--
Still flourishing with time, for time can ne'er
Blight his deserved renown not even _there_,--
Over his bloody and untimely grave.

Where flew the Eagle in its wide domain,
There was he ever foremost in the fight,
Leading his band of heroes, strong in might,
To conquest still,--In Switzerland and Spain,
And where the Rhine, majestic to the main,
Through many fertile lands, doth proudly flow,
His prowess won applause, even from the foe,
Midst blood and carnage on each battle plain.

High rose his genius with the tide of war,
His country's annals of his valour tell,
Impetuous as the torrent, when the swell
Of waters fierce pours onward from afar,
And sweeps before it every stop and bar:
Where'er his sword flashed, with its sunlike ray,
There victory followed closely on the way,
And danger's track was marked by many a scar.

Rednitz and Neuwied well his courage knew,
When yet his early deeds foretold the fame
That soon would throw a halo round his name;
Manheim and Hohenlinden felt it too,
And Elchingen and Jena found him true,
Eylau and Friedland, names of high renown,
Moscow and its retreat, his glory crown,
Which paled not even at bloody Waterloo!

Immortal warrior, could France reward
Thy mighty deeds but with a traitor's death?
The shame is hers, not thine; thy latest breath
Was for thy country, and as one prepared
Thou met'st thy fate, as soldier should on guard:
And still shall time, with every rolling year
The more thy memory to France endear,
And mourned thy fate shall be by patriot and bard.

Thy death has left a blot upon the fame
Of Wellington and England, ne'er to be
Removed or justified,--alas! that he,
Who with a word thy safety could proclaim,
With callous heart refused to speak the same.
The deed, like that which stained, with blackest ray,
Great Nelson's honour in Palermo's bay,
Our history records "with sorrow and with shame." (10)

WINTER.

_Written at Two-Waters, Herts, 11th January 1840,
for a Lady's Album._

COME! we will wander to the lone hill-side,
And, awe-struck, view the winter in its pride;--
Crispy the grass and scant;
The little flowers have vanished, not a trace
Is left of blossom on pale Nature's face:--
Restraint lies mighty on the stream--it sings
No more--dead, dead now,--like all other things;
The trees, as spectres gaunt,
Or churchyard monuments, all scattered stand,
As if they mourned the bareness of the land,--
Meagre as pallid want.
Where be the fairies now, the little fays,
That dance in buttercups in summer days,
Though only Poets view
Their gambols in the flowers and in the rays
Of noonday, which the common sight gainsays,
To Fancy ever new!

The grasshopper is gone. Ah, me! can death
Have will to stop _its_ modicum of breath?
Swift fly the clouds, why should they fly so swift?
Come they like Angel-spirits, with a gift
Of mercy to mankind?
In this drear time, the heart asks where are they
That tell of sunshine being on the way?
The harbingers of light and genial heat,
That make the meadows and the valleys sweet
When softly sighs the wind:
Make rich the upland grass to mountain goat,
When balm and beauty through the ether float,
Like gossamer reclined.
Oh! for a cheerful note from blackbird--gone,
All gone, the songster and his song are flown;
There's nought to cheer the ear.
Oh! now to list the mavis in the wood,--
The psalms of Nature's singers, always good,
Bring solace to the year.

Oh! for one glimpse of sunshine, to remind
The Earth of summer, ever bland and kind.

HUMAN CONDUCT.

WHY is it that the heart of man
So full is of vagary,
That when he's told what's right, he jerks
The rein, and does contrary.

Like skittish horse, or stubborn pig,
Or other self-willed creature,
That in the public highways shows
Its vile and perverse nature.

There's many a lesson taught to man,
But little does he mind them,
Many's the warning given to him,--
He throws them all behind him.

But let me a short tale relate
Instead of moralising,
You'll prize it more, I dare to say,
Than any such premising.

The sun was shining on the hills,
The countryside looked sweeter,
And brighter and more beautiful
Than I can tell in metre.

It was the spring-time of the year,
That pleasant balmy season,
When freshness passes o'er the earth,
And come the buds the trees on.

When Nature young looks, and is young,
But though she dresses gaily,
The time grows old, for Time, like man,
Grows older daily, daily!

Ah me! that men should be so weak
As not to read the lesson,--
Ripe fruits are offered them, but they
The garbage love to mess on.

One day along a country road
With hedge and hawthorn bristling,
A country lad was passing, and
In merry mood was whistling.

Stout was he and his joints well knit,
And firm as time-tried timber,
But light withal and agile too,
No sapling yet was limber.

Anon a horseman came that way
Who sat on horseback rarely,
This the horse knew as well as he,
And so had bolted fairly.

The young man eyed him as he came
And was by no means idle,
For as he passed he leapt in front,
And caught him by the bridle.

The horse reared back, and with the shock
His rider fell right over
Among the mud, and well for him
The place was soft as clover.

Brought to his feet, without a hurt,
But all o'er very muddy,
He thanked the lad, well-pleased to find
He sound was and unbloody.

He was a thin spare man, and past
Mid-life, and looking sickly;
Not that his health was touched at all,
Or that his limbs were weakly;

But he had been for many years
In towns a constant dweller,
Confined to business close, and this
On health is oft a teller.

He had an eye for bales and goods,
And turnings of the market;
But for the country's picturesque,
His shadow rare did dark it.

He rode out had to breathe the air,
And give his nerves a bracing,
His steed unruly had become,
His horsemanship disgracing.

The countryman pulled up some grass,
No readier thing appearing,
And rubbed him down in ostler style,
The mud from off him clearing.

And then for having saved his life,--
To cut my tale the shorter,--
He offered him, as a reward,
To take him as his porter;

And if he showed capacity,
To give him education,
To make him fit in course of time,
To fill a higher station.

The youth agreed to't, for he thought,
(While handing back the bridle)
He'd like the change, besides just then
He happened to be idle.

In Glasgow busy city now,
Behold this country clown bred,
First porter and then junior clerk,
And learning to be town bred.

Years passed, the sun shines once a day,
But days make years, and every
Sun that rises counts one, thus time
Flows on, as water rivery.

Through all gradations of the desk
The youth, still true and steady,
Had risen till, from senior clerk,
He partner was already.

The merchant now, as commerce had
To counting-house long held him,
Resolved to take his ease at last,
And came to business seldom:

The junior partner and head-clerk
Care of the cash-box keeping,
While he himself had chosen to be
What's called the partner sleeping.

The countryman, no longer young,
Had toiled both late and early,
And gained some wealth, and 'twas his boast
That he had won it fairly.

But with it he had learnt betimes
And aye the more the faster,
Some of the city's ways that were
Not pleasing to his master.

He ne'er had married, and was fond
Of being hospitable;
For 'twas his pride always to have
His friends around his table:

And so extravagant became,
To feasting much addicted,
And rich wines drinking, which of course
His income much restricted.

One night his master was in town
And heard he had a party,
An old man now, not wanting sense,
But humorous and hearty;

Yet this he to himself oft thought,
He thought that 'twas a pity,
His clerk should spend his money in
Thus feasting all the city.

And so resolved to call on him
And bring him to his senses,
Not by a lecture commonplace
Of prudence and expenses:

But by a something which he had,
A sort of old memento,
That in his judgment was well worth
Of lectures grave a cento.

It was a frosty night, and there
Had been a fall of snow on,
The slippery streets required great skill
And caution them to go on.

With but one fall, he reached the house,
The entrance well he knew there,
Sudden and unexpected burst
Amidst the jovial crew there.

The gas burnt clear, the host looked blue,
And not the lights, as use is
When one particular guest appears
That no one introduces.

He said, "Lies the skeleton frost
On one street and another,
"I tripped and fell, and where I lay
One skeleton hugged his brother.

"His breath is on each pane congealed,
Cold enters through each portal,
"How my teeth chatter with the cold,
A sign that we are mortal.

"What's this, a banquet spread and rich,
The wines all bright and glowing,
"No thought of this when you I met
Along the road-side going."

He then produced a bundle which
He opened with derision,
And singly held up the contents
To their astonished vision.

There was the wellworn hairy cap,
The corderoys to back it,
His host had owned, and there too was
His former fustian jacket.

These were the clothes the country lad
Had on at their first meeting,
And these he now brought forth to be
To him his present greeting;

That he might pause in his career
Of jollity and revel,
Lest in his age, reduced he should
Be to his former level.

'Tis strange that human conduct oft
So reckless is and hollow,
That when the right path reason shows,
It seeks the wrong to follow.

The master having said and done,
Quick vanished from them after:
The host attempted at the time
To turn it off with laughter.
Next morn reflection made him take
The hint,--and to be brief then,--
Though roughly put, 'twas kindly meant,--
He turned o'er a new leaf then.

MORAL.

To be of any use, reproof
Still strong should be and home put,
A lecture grave or saying wise
The mind is quickly from put;

Instead of gen'ral moral saws,
Facts personal lay stress on,
And like a surgeon probing deep,
Reform is in the lesson.

COURTSHIP LINES.

OH! let not sorrow cloud thine eye,
Or doubt oppress thy heart,
For love, like truth, can never lie,
Nor truth, like love, depart.
To be mine own, I've chosen thee,
From all the world deems fair;
And I've vowed thine own to be,
Then wherefore cherish care?

Thou canst not think a love like mine,
Could e'er to thee cause pain;
Or make thy gentle heart repine
That it has loved in vain:
Thee still mine eyes desire to see,
Like sunlight from above;
For all my heart is full of thee,
And all my heart is love.

1833.

LOVE-WEAKNESS.

I canna' get my mouth about it,
It lies so deeply on my heart,
That aye when trying to divulge it,
My thoughts fly somehow all apart.

Were I to learn the best confession
That e'er by pen of man was writ,
To try to speak it in her presence
I should not have the power or wit.

As in the rose's opening petals
Devotion pure is ever spread,
So in the flushings of my countenance
She my heart's feelings must have read.

Oh! gladly anywhere I'd venture,
Dare anything to prove it true;
But to disclose my ardent passion
Is just the thing I canna' do.

I canna' get my mouth about it,
It lies so deeply on my heart,
That aye when trying to divulge it,
My thoughts fly somehow all apart.

LINES

TO THE REV. HENRY DUDLEY RYDER,

_On reading his volume, entitled "The Angelicon, a Gallery
of Sonnets, on the Divine Attributes, and the Passions, the
Graces, and the Virtues."_

THY strains, sweet poet, have the power
To give a solace to the mind,
What time the clouds of sadness lour,--
Like sighs of thine own "lyrëd wind."

For when thy page I deeply trace,
Where thoughts and fancies thickly throng,
It brings to mind free nature's grace,
Where wood-birds tune their mystic song;

And pleasant streams in ways remote,
Where sweetest music loves to reign;
Where solitude gives birth to thought,
And thought is born of thought again;

Visions of earth, the pure and bright,
As poet only hath divined,
When high-toned genius pours her light,
Upon the rapt and feeling mind.

Well hast thou sung the grace and love
Th' Almighty deigns bestow on man,
When seeking mercy from above
By His own sole appointed plan.

And well, too, hast thou shown the sway
The passions have o'er mortal kind,
Avarice, Ambition, Jealousy,
And other turmoils of the mind.

These, like the rays that burst from heaven,
Shine brightly forth in verse of thine,
For the proud gift to thee is given,
To charm, to waken, to refine.

Go on thy way, thy song must claim,
From a dull world its ardent praise;
With saintly Herbert's twine thy name,
And bind with Herbert's verse thy lays.

THE POET.