For thou art with me here, upon the banks Thy memory be as a dwelling-place For all sweet sounds and harmonies; O! then, If solitude, or fear, or pain, or grief, Should be thy portion, with what healing thoughts Of tender joy wilt thou remember me, And these my exhortations! Nor, perchance, If I should be where I no more can hear Thy voice, nor catch from thy wild eyes these gleams Of past existence, wilt thou then forget That on the banks of this delightful stream 296. To A SKYLARK. Up with me! up with me into the clouds! Up with me, up with me into the clouds! With clouds and sky about thee ringing, That spot which seems so to thy minc! I have walked through wildernesses dreary, Had I now the wings of a Faery, Up to thee would I fly. There's madness about thee, and joy divine In that song of thine; Lift me, guide me high and high Joyous as morning, Thou art laughing and scorning; Thou hast a nest for thy love and thy rest, To be such a Traveller as I. Happy, happy Liver, With a soul as strong as a mountain River Alas! my journey, rugged and uneven, As full of gladness and as free of heaven, I, with my fate contented, will plod on, And hope for higher raptures, when Life's day is done 297. PORTRAIT. She was a phantom of delight When first she gleamed upon my sight; A lovely apparition, sent To be a moment's ornament; Her eyes as stars of twilight fair; Like twilight's, too, her dusky hair. But all things else about her drawn To haunt, to startle, and waylay. I saw her, upon nearer view, Her household motions light and free, A countenance in which did meet For transient sorrows, simple wiles, And now I see with eye serene A traveller 'twixt life and death; The reason firm, the temperate will, 298. MILTON. Milton! thou shouldst be living at this hour; Of stagnant waters; altar, sword, and pen, Of inward happiness. We are selfish men; O! raise us up, return to us again; And give us manners, virtue, freedom, power. Thy soul was like a star, and dwelt apart; Thou hadst a voice whose sound was like the sea; Pure as the naked heavens-majestic, free, So didst thou travel on life's common way In cheerful godliness; and yet thy heart The lowliest duties on herself did lay. 299. WE ARE SEVEN. A simple child, dear brother Jim, I met a little cottage girl; She was eight years old, she said; She had a rustic woodland air, "Sisters and brothers, little maid, "How many? Seven in all," she said, And wondering looked at me. “And where are they? I pray you tell.” She answered, "Seven are we; And two of us at Conway dwell, And two are gone to sea. "Two of us in the churchyard lie, "You say that two at Conway dwell, Yet ye are seven! I pray you tell, Then did the little maid reply, "You run about, my little maid, If two are in the churchyard laid, "Their graves are green, they may be seen,” The little maid replied, • Twelve steps or more from my mother's door, And they are side by side. "My stockings there I often knit, "And often after sunset, sir, And eat my supper there. "The first that died was little Jane; "So in the churchyard she was laid; Together round her grave we played — "And when the ground was white with snow, My brother John was forced to go- "How many are you then," said I, "If they two are in heaven?" The little maiden did reply, "O master! we are seven." "But they are dead; those two are dead! 300. CRITICISM OF POL гRY. With the young of both sexes, poetry is, like love, a passion; but, for much the greater part of those who have been proud of its power over their minds, a necessity soon arises of breaking the pleasing bondage; or it relaxes of itself; the thoughts being occupied in domestic cares, or the time engrossed by business. Poetry then be comes only an occasional recreation; while to those whose existence passes away in a course of fashionable pleasure, it is a species of luxurious amusement. In middle and declining age, a scattered number of serious persons resort to poetry, as to religion, for a protection against the pressure of trivial employments, and as a consolation for the afflictions of ife. And, lastly, there are many, who, having beer |