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His bodily frame had been from youth to age
Of an unusual strength. Among the rocks The Mother mourned, nor ceased her tears to flow,
He went, and still looked up to sun and cloud, Till a winter's noon-day placed her buried Son
And listened to the wind; and, as before,

Before her eyes, last child of many gone-
Performed all kinds of labour for his sheep, His raiment of angelic white, and lo!
And for the land, his small inheritance.

His very feet bright as the dazzling snow
And to that hollow dell from time to time

Which they are touching; yea far brighter, even Did he repair, to build the Fold of which

As that which comes, or seems to come, from heaven, His flock had need. "Tis not forgotten yet Surpasses aught these elements can show, The pity which was then in every heart

Much she rejoiced, trusting that from that hour For the old Man—and 'tis believed by all

Whate'er befel she could not grieve or pine; That many and many a day he thither went, But the Transfigured, in and out of season, And never lifted up a single stone.

Appeared, and spiritual presence gained a power

Over material forms that mastered reason. There, by the Sheep-fold, sometimes was he Oh, gracious Heaven, in pity make her thine !

seen Sitting alone, or with his faithful Dog, Then old, beside him, lying at his feet.

But why that prayer? as if to her could come The length of full seven years, from time to time,

No good but by the way that leads to bliss He at the building of this Sheep-fold wrought,

Through Death,--so judging we should judge amiss. And left the work unfinished when he died.

Since reason failed want is her threatened doom, Three years, or little more, did Isabel

Yet frequent transports mitigate the gloom: Survive her Husband : at her death the estate

Nor of those maniacs is she one that kiss Was sold, and went into a stranger's hand.

The air or laugh upon a precipice; ! The Cottage which was named the EVENING STAR

No, passing through strange sufferings toward the

tomb, Is gone—the ploughshare has been through the ground

She smiles as if a martyr's crown were won: On which it stood ; great changes have been wrought Oft, when light breaks through clouds or waving In all the neighbourhood :-yet the oak is left

trees, That grew beside their door; and the remains

With outspread arms and fallen upon her knees Of the unfinished Sheep-fold may be seen

The Mother hails in her descending Son
Beside the boisterous brook of Green-head Ghyll.

An Angel, and in earthly ecstacies
Her own angelic glory seems begun.








(The subject of the following poem is from the Orlandus

of the author's friend, Kenelm Henry Digby: and the

liberty is taken of inscribing it to him as an acknowledgHow beautiful when up a lofty height

ment, however unworthy, of pleasure and instruction Honour ascends among the humblest poor,

derived from his numerous and valuable writings, And feeling sinks as deep! See there the door illustrative of the piety and chivalry of the olden time.] Of One, a Widow, left beneath a weight Of blameless debt. On evil Fortune’s spite

You have heard a Spanish Lady She wasted no complaint, but strove to make

How she wooed an English man; A just repayment, both for conscience-sake

Hear now of a fair Armenian, And that herself and hers should stand upright

Daughter of the proud Soldàn; In the world's eye. Her work when daylight failed How she loved a Christian Slave, and told her pain Paused not, and through the depth of night she kept By word, look, deed, with hope that he might love Such earnest vigils, that belief prevailed

again. With some, the noble Creature never slept; But, one by one, the hand of death assailed

* See, in Percy's Reliques, that fine old ballad, “The

Spanish Lady's Love;" from which Poem the form of Her children from her inmost heart bewept. stanza, as suitable to dialogue, is adopted.

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« Pluck that rose, it moves my liking,”

“ Feeling tunes your voice, fair Princess ! Said she, lifting up her veil ;

And your brow is free from scorn, “ Pluck it for me, gentle gardener,

Else these words would come like mockery, Ere it wither and grow pale.”

Sharper than the pointed thorn.” “ Princess fair, I till the ground, but may not take “Whence the undeserved mistrust? Too wide apart From twig or bed an humbler flower, even for Our faith hath been,–0 would that eyes could see

the heart !”

your sake!”

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« Wedded love with loyal Christians, “ Lady! dread the wish, nor venture

Lady, is a mystery rare ;
In such peril to engage ;

Body, heart, and soul in union,
Think how it would stir against you

Make one being of a pair."
Your most loving father's rage :

“ Humble love in me would look for no return, Sad deliverance would it be, and yoked with shame, Soft as a guiding star that cheers, but cannot burn." Should troubles overflow on her from whom it came.”

“Gracious Allah! by such title

Do I dare to thank the God, “ Generous Frank! the just in effort

Him who thus exalts thy spirit,
Are of inward peace secure :

Flower of an unchristian sod!
Hardships for the brave encountered, Or hast thou put off wings which thou in heaven
Even the feeblest may endure:

dost wear? If almighty grace through me thy chains unbind

| What have I seen, and heard, or dreamt? where My father for slave's work may seek a slave in

am I ? where?” mind.”


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Here broke off the dangerous converse:

Less impassioned words might tell
How the pair escaped together,

Tears not wanting, nor a knell
Of sorrow in her heart while through her father's

And from her narrow world, she passed for ever-



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Thought infirm ne'er came between them,
Whether printing desert sands

And how blest the Reunited,
With accordant steps, or gathering

While beneath their castle-walls,
Forest-fruit with social hands;

Runs a deafening noise of welcome !-Or whispering like two reeds that in the cold moon- Blest, though every tear that falls beam

Doth in its silence of past sorrow tell, Bend with the breeze their heads, beside a crystal And makes a meeting seem most like a dear farewell.




On a friendly deck reposing

Through a haze of human nature,
They at length for Venice steer;

Glorified by heavenly light,
There, when they had closed their voyage,

Looked the beautiful Deliverer
One, who daily on the pier

On that overpowering sight,
Watched for tidings from the East, beheld his Lord, While across her virgin cheek pure blushes strayed,
Fell down and clasped his knees for joy, not For every tender sacrifice her heart had made.

uttering word.



Mutual was the sudden transport;

Breathless questions followed fast, Years contracting to a moment,

Each word greedier than the last ; “ Hie thee to the Countess, friend ! return with

speed, And of this Stranger speak by whom her lord was


On the ground the weeping Countess

Knelt, and kissed the Stranger's hand;
Act of soul-devoted homage,

Pledge of an eternal band :
Nor did aught of future days that kiss belie,
Which, with a generous shout, the crowd did ratify.



Constant to the fair Armenian,
Say that I, who might have languished,

Gentle pleasures round her moved,
Drooped and pined till life was spent,

Like a tutelary spirit
Now before the gates of Stolberg

Reverenced, like a sister, loved.
My Deliverer would present

Christian meekness smoothed for all the path of
For a crowning recompense, the precious grace life,
Of her who in my heart still holds her ancient Who, loving most, should wiseliest love, their only


Say not you love the delicate treat,
But like it, enjoy it, and thankfully eat.

Mute memento of that union

In a Saxon church survives,
Where a cross-legged Knight lies sculptured

As between two wedded Wives
Figures with armorial signs of race and birth,
And the vain rank the pilgrims bore while yet on


Long may you love your pensioner mouse, Though one of a tribe that torment the house : Nor dislike for her cruel sport the cat, Deadly foe both of mouse and rat; Remember she follows the law of her kind, And Instinct is neither wayward nor blind. Then think of her beautiful gliding form, Her tread that would scarcely crush a worm, And her soothing song by the winter fire, Soft as the dying throb of the lyre.





(BY MY SISTER.) THERE 's more in words than I can teach : Yet listen, Child !—I would not preach; But only give some plain directions To guide your speech and your affections. Say not you love a roasted fowl, But you may love a screaming owl, And, if you can, the unwieldy toad That crawls from his secure abode Within the mossy garden wall When evening dews begin to fall. Oh mark the beauty of his eye: What wonders in that circle lie! So clear, so bright, our fathers said He wears a jewel in his head! And when, upon some showery day, Into a path or public way A frog leaps out from bordering grass, Startling the timid as they pass, Do you observe him, and endeavour To take the intruder into favour;' Learning from him to find a reason For a light heart in a dull season. And you may love him in the pool, That is for him a happy school, In which he swims as taught by nature, Fit pattern for a human creature, Glancing amid the water bright, And sending upward sparkling light.

I would not circumscribe your love:
It may soar with the eagle and brood with the dove,
May pierce the earth with the patient mole,
Or track the hedgehog to his hole.
Loving and liking are the solace of life,
Rock the cradle of joy, smooth the death-bed of

You love your father and your mother,
Your grown-up and your baby brother;
You love your sister, and your friends,
And countless blessings which God sends :
And while these right affections play,
You live each moment of your day;
They lead you on to full content,
And likings fresh and innocent,
That store the mind, the memory feed,
And prompt to many a gentle deed :
But likings come, and pass away ;
'Tis love that remains till our latest day:
Our heavenward guide is holy love,
And will be our bliss with saints above.




Nor blush if o'er your heart be stealing A love for things that have no feeling : The spring's first rose by you espied, May fill your breast with joyful pride ; And you may love the strawberry-flower, And love the strawberry in its bower; But when the fruit, so often praised For beauty, to your lip is raised,

"High bliss is only for a higher state,' But, surely, if severe afflictions borne With patience merit the reward of peace, Peace ye deserve; and may the solid good, Sought by a wise though late exchange, and here With bounteous hand beneath a cottage-roof To you accorded, never be withdrawn, Nor for the world's best promises renounced. Most soothing was it for a welcome Friend, Fresh from the crowded city, to behold That lonely union, privacy so deep, Such calm employments, such entire content. So when the rain is over, the storm laid,



A pair of herons oft-times have I seen,

But small and fugitive our gain Upon a rocky islet, side by side,

Compared with hers who long hath lain, Drying their feathers in the sun, at ease ;

With languid limbs and patient head
And so, when night with grateful gloom had fallen, Reposing on a lone sick-bed;
Two glow-worms in such nearness that they shared, Where now, she daily hears a strain
As seemed, their soft self-satisfying light,

That cheats her of too busy cares,
Each with the other, on the dewy ground,

Eases her pain, and helps her prayers. Where He that made them blesses their repose.

And who but this dear Bird beguiled When wandering among lakes and hills I note, The fever of that pale-faced Child; Once more, those creatures thus by nature paired, Now cooling, with his passing wing, And guarded in their tranquil state of life, Her forehead, like a breeze of Spring : Even, as your happy presence to my mind Recalling now,

with descant soft Their union brought, will they repay the debt, Shed round her pillow from aloft, And send a thankful spirit back to you,

Sweet thoughts of angels hovering nigh, With hope that we, dear Friends! shall meet again. And the invisible sympathy

Of.Matthew, Mark, and Luke, and John,
Blessing the bed she lies upon
And sometimes, just as listening ends
In slumber, with the cadence blends
A dream of that low-warbled hymn

Which old folk, fondly pleased to trim

Lamps of faith, now burning dim,

Say that the Cherubs carved in stone, (SUGGESTED IN A WESTMORELAND COTTAGE.)

When clouds gave way at dead of night DRIVEN in by Autumn's sharpening air

And the ancient church was filled with light, From half-stripped woods and pastures bare,

Used to sing in heavenly tone, Brisk Robin seeks a kindlier home:

Above and round the sacred places
Not like a beggar is he come,

They guard, with winged baby-faces.
But enters as a looked-for guest,
Confiding in his ruddy breast,

Thrice happy Creature ! in all lands
As if it were a natural shield

Nurtured by hospitable hands : Charged with a blazon on the field,

Free entrance to this cot has he, Due to that good and pious deed

Entrance and exit both yet free; Of which we in the Ballad read.

And, when the keen unruffled weather But pensive fancies putting by,

That thus brings man and bird together, And wild-wood sorrows, speedily

Shall with its pleasantness be past, He plays the expert ventriloquist ;

And casement closed and door made fast, And, caught by glimpses now-now missed,

To keep at bay the howling blast, Puzzles the listener with a doubt

He needs not fear the season's rage, If the soft voice he throws about

For the whole house is Robin's cage. Comes from within doors or without !

Whether the bird Ait here or there, Was ever such a sweet confusion,

O'er table lilt, or perch on chair, Sustained by delicate illusion ?

Though some may frown and make a stir, He's at your elbow-to your feeling

To scare him as a trespasser, The notes are from the floor or ceiling ;

And he belike will flinch or start, And there's a riddle to be guessed,

Good friends he has to take his part; 'Till you have marked his heaving chest,

One chiefly, who with voice and look And busy throat whose sink and swell,

Pleads for him from the chimney-nook, Betray the Elf that loves to dwell

Where sits the Dame, and wears away In Robin's bosom, as a chosen cell.

* The words

• Matthew, Mark, and Luke, and John, Heart-pleased we smile upon the Bird

Bless the bed that I lie on,' If seen, and with like pleasure stirred

are part of a child's prayer, still in general use through Commend him, when he's only heard.

the northern counties.

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