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he cast,

And still, where'er his

Fresh blood-gouts shock'd his view !

O’erturn’d his infant's bed he found,

The blood-stain'd cover rent,
And all around the walls and ground

With recent blood besprent.
He call'd his child-no voice replied ;

He search’d—with terror wild ;
Blood ! blood! he found on every side,

But nowhere found the child !

“ Hell-hound! by thee my child's devour'd!”

The frantic father cried,
And to the vengeful hilt his sword

He plunged in Gelert's side !

His suppliant, as to earth he fell,

No pity could impart;
But still his Gelert's dying yell,

Pass'd heavy o'er his heart.

Aroused by Gelert's dying yell,

Some slumberer waken’d nigh; What words the parent's joy can tell,

To hear his infant cry!

Conceal'd beneath a mangled heap, ,

His hurried search hath miss'd, All glowing from his rosy sleep,

His cherub boy he kiss'd !

Nor scratch had he, nor harm, nor dread

But the same couch beneath
Lay a great wolf, all torn and dead-

Tremendous still in death!

Ah ! what was then Llewellyn's pain,

For now the truth was clear ;
The gallant hound the wolf had slain,

To save Llewellyn's heir.

Vain, vain was all Llewellyn's woe,

“ Best of thy kind, adieu ! The frantic deed which laid thee low,

This heart shall ever rue!”

And now a gallant tomb they raise,

With costly sculpture deck’d;
And marbles, storied with his praise,

Poor Gelert's bones protect.

Here never could the spearman pass,

Or forester, unmoved ;
Here oft the tear-besprinkled grass

Llewellyn's sorrow proved.

And here he hung his horn and spear;

And oft, as evening fell,
In fancy's piercing sounds would hear

Poor Gelert's dying yell !



Dawn of day! thy twilight dress,
A mantle seems of holiness,
Dropt by him who fashion'd earth,
Ere the morning stars had birth ;
Ere the womb of shapeless night
Heav'd creation into light.

Dawn of day! how pure to me
Is all thy fresh-born fragrancy ;
Of odours, that from nightfall rise,
A yet untainted sacrifice.
From God's footstool to his throne
Oh! that I so could waft my own!

Dawn of day ! how wrapt thy hush Of stillness : ere from brake or bush Beasts do rustlebirds take wing, Or noise of any earthly thing Break in upon that holy calm, Which spreads o'er care celestial balm.

Sweet, oh! sweetest, dawn of day! Like all that's sweet, how brief thy stay:

For now the sun, in beamy spread,
Tips eastern clouds with garish red ;
And gathering sounds the ear steal on
Dawn of day ! thy charm is gone!

The Son of a Genius,

In truth, he was a strange and wayward wight,
Fond of each gentle and each dreadful scene.


MR. Lewis was the only surviving son of a gentleman, who had nearly expended a fine fortune in mechanical pursuits, which he had not the steadiness to follow so as to bring any single object to perfection, though he evinced powers sufficient to have fully effected that purpose. His son had received the education suitable for a liberal profession, but a direction of mind too desultory for any, until his seventeenth year, when he professed himself determined on embracing that of a painter ;-a desire perfectly consonant to the wishes of his father, who obtained for him every aid his profession required ; but, at the same time, by instilling the belief that on his genius alone he must depend for future fame and fortune, defeated in a great measure the benefits he bestowed, in providing his talents the means of cultivation ; since his son was thereby encouraged to neglect that application necessary in every profession, and taught to rest on fortuitous means for producing that, which is the reward of well-exerted efforts and unwearied application of appropriate talents. The father died very soon after the son's choice of a profession was settled, leaving his affairs in a state of so much derangement, that his widow, who had always been a most affectionate wife and tender mother, was literally harassed to death with settling them. She had, however, the satisfaction of paying all his debts, reducing his scattered property to a tangible shape, and leaving her son in actual possession of about two thousand pounds, with which she hoped he would be enabled to set out advantageously in life ; being assured by all who knew him, that he was a young man of the most promising talents, and being happy in the persuasion that he had an excellent disposition, and was not subject to any vicious propensity whatever.

Young Lewis sincerely loved and lamented both his parents ; but he neither took warning from the errors into which one had fallen, from following blindly a pursuit praiseworthy in itself, but ruinous to him from his mismanagement and mutability, nor followed the advice and example of the other, by

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