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 THE 
 
 OFFERING. 
 
 I cannot strive with daring flight, 
 
 To reach the brave Parnassian height, 
 
 But at its foot content to stray, 
 
 lu easy unambitious way, 
 
 Pick up Those flowers the Muses send. 
 
 To wreathe an " Offering"' for a friend. 
 
 MANCHESTER: 
 
 PRINTED FOR PRIVATE CIRCULATIO.N HV G. K. H. 
 MDCCCXXXVIII,
 
 
 TO 
 
 Mrs. GEORGE EDWARD HUNT, 
 
 THIS VOLU^IE 
 
 IS MOST AFFECTIONATEY INSCRIBED, 
 
 BY 
 
 The editor. 
 
 853241
 
 ADDRESS. 
 
 The Editor begs to (jicc his warniest 
 thanks to those Friends iiho have e/iuhhd him b>/ 
 their contrihutions to publish the " Ojf'eri.itj" and 
 to place upon its pages names so hiyhli/ estimated. 
 
 He presetits this Volume of orii/inul 
 l*oetry to his Readers, iudulgin(/ the hope that 
 many may derive grat ijivation from its perusal, 
 and that others may hold it worthy of regard as
 
 VI 
 
 II httritv'i iiiridsily, t/ie number printed iirinij h <s 
 ihiiti one hundrefJ. 
 
 Personally, he vieics it with mingled 
 Jeeliiif/s. Its execution tvas resolved upon, when 
 he ii:hi> most laryelij rontrihntes to it looked 
 forward to a Inmj life of usefulness. Scarcely 
 wds it commenced when the hour oj sickness came ; 
 and on the \Hlh February last, she to whom this 
 rolnnie is inscribed hud to mourn the loss of a 
 lirnt/ier, and the Editor that of a warm friend, 
 cut off' ill his 2(V/( year.
 
 Vll 
 
 The Edilor c/iii/ns indulgence far /iiulfs 
 in the e.i-ec-itiv:t of the pi-infiny, nenrltf two i/rnrs 
 harnuj eluj/sr I since the uorh was commenced, 
 and if himing been irregularly proceeded with at 
 periods of leisure. 
 
 The Editor and ParNTER. 
 
 October Isr. 1838.
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 Evening Thoughts 
 
 The Guardian Angel 
 
 The Old Road 
 
 An Invitation 
 
 Will there be one to weep for nie 
 
 Translation from the Italian 
 
 The Withered Nosegay . 
 
 Lines with a Stick of Sealing-wax 
 
 I think o' Thee . 
 
 Enigma 
 
 Israel .... 
 
 The Blush . 
 
 On a " Forgel-nie-not," . 
 
 Page 
 
 M. A. Browne I 
 
 JijJtn Hirst 4 
 
 E. Simpson 9 
 
 . //. R. 1 6 
 
 John Hirst 19 
 
 S. L. 22 
 
 E. Simpson 25 
 
 IV. r. 28 
 
 John Hirst 32 
 
 . T. G. L. 33 
 
 E. Simpson 37 
 
 Jolin Hirst 41 
 
 E. T. M. 44
 
 Lines on the Death of Henry Roscoe, 
 
 Esq. 
 
 46 
 
 The Swiss Patriot's Song 
 
 John Hirst 
 
 48 
 
 Fragment 
 
 M. A. Browne 
 
 52 
 
 From the German of " Frilhioff " 
 
 . JF. B. C. 
 
 .55 
 
 Song .... 
 
 IF. R. 
 
 60 
 
 To a Boy destroying Flowers 
 
 . K. H. 
 
 ()2 
 
 To a Bunch of Snowdrops 
 
 IF. M. 
 
 G4 
 
 The Flower 
 
 John Hirst 
 
 70 
 
 The White Rose 
 
 M. A. Broiune 
 
 73 
 
 The Mother's Hope 
 
 K. H. 
 
 75 
 
 Stanzas .... 
 
 E. Simpson 
 
 77 
 
 To the Ivy . . . ./ 
 
 F. M. Dovaston 
 
 81 
 
 Withered Trees . 
 
 M. A. Browne 
 
 8;; 
 
 Tlie Clouds .... 
 
 John Hirst 
 
 88 
 
 Tlie Mounlain Heather . 
 
 K. H. 
 
 92 
 
 Lines on the Abolition of Slavery 
 
 • • 
 
 {)5 
 
 English Melody. 
 
 . J. r. M. D. 
 
 100 
 
 From the " Orlando Fnrioso" 
 
 S. L. 
 
 102
 
 M 
 
 The Shooting Star 
 
 Two Sonnets 
 
 Verses .... 
 
 Sonnet. To Isabel . 
 
 To the " Myosotis Palustiis" 
 
 Roundelay . 
 
 Lines on the Death of a young Lady 
 
 The Orchard in Blossom 
 
 Sonnet on visiting Culloden Moor 
 
 The Refugee 
 
 Julin Hirst 105 
 
 /. F. M.D. 107 
 
 E. Simpson 110 
 
 M. A. Browne 1 1 3 
 
 . 115 
 
 J. F. M. DovastoH 1 1 7 
 
 . 120 
 
 . /. F. M. D. 122 
 
 J. K. Sim 124 
 
 A.L. 12G 
 
 By the late John Hirst. 
 
 Love 
 
 The Northern Fairies 
 
 The Evening Star 
 
 The Woods 
 
 The Dear One 
 
 . 139 
 HI 
 
 . 144 
 147 
 
 . 140
 
 xn 
 
 The Wish . . • • 15» 
 
 The Convinced and Returning Sinner . . 15 1 
 
 The Winter Nights . . . • 157 
 
 From the Greek . . . • • 1<>2 
 
 Home of my Youth . . . • l^'-' 
 
 The South Wind . • • • • '^'^
 
 EVENING THOUGHTS. 
 
 BY M. A. BROWNE. 
 
 The evening- wind is whispering- low, 
 The moon uprising l)right and slow, 
 And here I lay my m eary head 
 Calmly upon my peaceful bed. 
 
 Aye, peaceful— though the feverish day 
 Hath struggled with the soul all day ; 
 Aye, calm — though many a thought of ill 
 Hath dared this wayward heart to thrill.
 
 For thow, oh Lord, hast been with me, 
 Strengtheniug each failing energy, 
 And now thy pure and holy rest 
 Is sinking- on my throbbing breast, 
 
 The flowers are closing peacefully, 
 Beneath the placid moonlit sky,-- 
 So my hushed heart beneath Thy sight 
 Would slumber, steeped in heavenly light. 
 
 And as each faded flower receives 
 Tlic gentle dew upon its leaves.
 
 So by Thy mercy tlioie may stream 
 Into my soul some blessed dream. 
 
 And as at moru tbose Howers will be 
 Breathing new incense up to Thee, 
 So with the opening day shall rise 
 My grateful spirit's sacrifice. 
 
 And when my life must pass away, 
 Oh, may it close even like this day, 
 That bidding every trouble cease, 
 I may lie down and sleep in peace. 
 Liverpool, 1837.
 
 THE GUARDIAN ANGEL. 
 
 BV JOHN HIRST. 
 
 I'll be \uth tlicc where'er tliou art, aud Irom the 
 
 trackless air 
 O'er thee I '11 foM a shelteriii<^ ^viiig, though all 
 
 unnoticed there ; 
 Who can be safe as one who hath by Power 
 
 Alniij^hty given 
 To guard Jiini through each scene of life a Messenger 
 
 of Heaven!
 
 By day, when Pleasure holding' foitli her promises 
 
 misouiui 
 
 \N'i)idd make thee join the i;I(h]y ihronji- that glitter 
 
 in her ruund, — 
 By iiiglit, when on the silent couch and evil spirits 
 
 near 
 Would hrcathe unholy whispcriiijis, like poison, in 
 
 thine ear : 
 
 In times when gay Prosperity shines hright upon thy 
 
 home, 
 la times when stern Adversifv and hours of sorrow
 
 6 
 
 In these, in all, untiriiiglv, I 'H watch, protect, and 
 
 guide , 
 Preserve thee from repiiiing's vain, and from the throb 
 
 of pride. 
 
 I '11 follow fliro by sen and land, when sunshine from 
 
 on high 
 t^i laui^'-bin^'- on thy native earth, and earth smiles to 
 
 tlie sky, 
 And when the ruthless hurricane rides forth in furv 
 
 wild, 
 I 11 liovcr near amid the >torni. like mother oVr h^r 
 
 child.
 
 But I have more tluui mother's power ai;il more tba'i 
 
 mother's care, 
 There's not a feeling- oi" thy breast, nor thought that 
 
 rises there, 
 But clearly is to me revcaleil, and I can well control 
 The passions that distiirh tliy mind, — the tempests of 
 
 thy soul. 
 
 And when the hour of death draws nigh, and He 
 
 whose grace hath willed 
 That I thy Guardian Ang( 1 be, shall deem thy course 
 
 fulfilled,
 
 When (\\m and f-lazcd tlio diooijiiif,'- eye, and from 
 * the l)io\v there roll 
 
 The dro])s of that deep ag-ony tliat wrint;- a parting- 
 soul : 
 
 Then,— then,— I u ill be "ilh thee still, pour comfort 
 
 like a balm 
 I'pon thy spirit's doubts and fears, and all its strug- 
 
 g-lings calm, 
 And hear it, ulion at last it leaves the frail abode of 
 
 clay, 
 Encircled Itv a glorious hot, from earth a^vay--a\vay.
 
 THE OLD ROAD. 
 
 In travelling through mountainous districts. 
 It may fre(jn€iitly be observed that steep parts of 
 the roads are cut off hy a new circuitous route, 
 while the former are left without being repaired, 
 and onli/ frequented by passengers on foot. Some 
 of those from their romantic situatiojis cannot 
 fail to arrest the attention of a contemplative 
 mind. 
 
 Now I a moment pause to view 
 The paths, iu doubt which to pursue, 
 
 c
 
 10 
 
 But soon decided is my choice, 
 lor now I hear llic waters' voice 
 Mumuiiing- down the ciaggy steep ; 
 And 1 do mark tliat wild Huwers grow 
 In tlie lone vale that spreads below, 
 \\ hicli bin,"^ with heavy dew-drops weep. 
 
 The lornier deeply furrowed road 
 
 Jh carpeted with Jjrassy sod, 
 
 And the wide-spreadint^- l>riar rose 
 
 In naUtre's wild luxuriance grows. 
 
 The butterfly each sunny hour 
 
 1 aulastic bounds from liowcr to flower,
 
 11 
 
 Aiul vies will) every varied shade 
 In i)eaiitics which as fjaicklv f.iJe. 
 With eag-er search the bee Y>ursiies 
 Its tMght to suck the nectared dews— - 
 Now on the licather's purjjlo bh»oiii, 
 And now upon tlie yellow broom. 
 And on the hawthorn's flowery sprav, 
 Reflected iji the streamlet's breast, 
 The linnet tunes its sweetest ]av, 
 And undisliirbed there warms i!s nest. 
 
 Nature is striving- all she can. 
 By every cfiurt, to veg.iin
 
 12 
 
 From the usurping hand of man 
 This spot to be her own domain ; 
 But mingling: ^'ith her works appear 
 Past labours of the mountaineer. 
 So when we from the world retire, 
 Where with the crowd we mingled long, 
 And strive to raise our spirits higher 
 Than aspirations of the throng, 
 
 Still lingering clings each vain desire 
 
 And tarnishes the purer fire. 
 
 An aged man sits by the stream 
 
 Which gurgles through its cress-grown bed,
 
 13 
 
 And thus his thoughts pursue a theme, 
 
 Whieli life's young blossoms opened. 
 
 " When with my father hent with age, 
 
 " I took my first long pilgrimage 
 
 ^ To see the far famed distant town, 
 
 " 'T was on this spot we sat us down ; 
 
 " By yonder brook our store was spread, 
 
 " And there he bathed his hoary head, 
 
 " The breeze played with his locks of grey, 
 
 " And softly sighed a feeble hymn ; 
 
 " When he with heaven raised eyes did pray, 
 
 " And I the while did look at him, 
 
 " His visage changed—the smile was gone.
 
 14 
 
 " Yet miltUy beamed that, look unknown, 
 
 " It was not what it used to be 
 
 " When he looked kindly down on me, 
 
 " Each feature took an aspect new, 
 
 " And round his brow a radiance threw." 
 
 (No words emotions can express 
 
 Which move the soul's most secret springs. 
 
 Nor artist's hand just forms impress 
 
 To shadow forth immortal things.) 
 
 " 'T was solemn — lovely— holy—meek — 
 
 " And a tear trembled down his cheek ; 
 
 '• 1 wondered at the form I saw, 
 
 " And felt my bosom thrill with awe ;
 
 15 
 
 " It was a mortal man before 
 " The God he loved thus to adore. 
 " Many a year has passed awav 
 " To the uijfathomed gulph of iime, 
 " Since that so well remembered day, 
 " And since that father's funeral chime. 
 " My lamp of life now feeblv gleams, 
 " And faintly flow the purple streams ; 
 " Now I am old as he was then, 
 " And soon shall leave the vvaiks of uitu ; 
 " O may it be to meet on hij;b, 
 *• And join the anthems of the sky." 
 Edinburgh, 1836. E. SiMr>ON.
 
 16 
 
 AN INVITATION. 
 
 If thou woiildst own a careless heart 
 
 And ueai an open bro^v, 
 And bid thy gri<ifs and pains depart, 
 
 Come hither to us now — 
 Come hither to our greenwood bowers. 
 And spend with us life's sunny hours. 
 
 For wo have cast all thoughts away 
 But those which whisper joy.
 
 17 
 
 Aud \vc have vowed tli;it miilli to-day 
 
 Shall be our blest einjilov ; 
 Conic hither, tlicii, and to the air 
 Give everj liuyeriii^ doubt aud care. 
 
 BcautT shall s])arklc in thine eye. 
 And wine within thy ^lass, 
 
 And 'inid sweet sounds <pf inehidy 
 Thy gentle hours shall pass; 
 
 Come hither, then, and learn to pri/r. 
 
 The g-laneing- liyiit of beauty's eyes. 
 
 Nay, do not tell nie of (by ^"rief, 
 I sec i( on thv l)row,
 
 m 
 
 But, trust mc, cares like tliinc are brief 
 
 Where rosy goblets flow ; 
 Come hither, then, and thou shall liiuf 
 Sweet solace for thy sufl'criii!'' mind. 
 
 And thou, with looks of hajjpiness, 
 
 And cjes that own no tear, 
 I tell thee those brigijt thoughts that bless 
 
 'J'liy iicart arc brightest here ; 
 Come hither, then, to our grecu bowers, 
 And spend with us thy sunny hours. 
 
 IT. R. 
 Lh'fi'ponl.
 
 19 
 
 WILL THERE BE ONE TO WEEl' 
 FOR ME. 
 
 Will there be one to weep for me, 
 
 Above mc wlieii tlie l;thss blade.'- wave^ 
 
 And iVinsfe in dark luxurianey 
 
 The mound that marks a liumaii j;-ravc. 
 
 Will there be one on winter eve, 
 
 When all save nioaninj;- winds are hushed, 
 for. that drear spot a home to leavr. 
 
 And moorn th'' hopcf^ untimely eruslied.
 
 20 
 
 ^^■ill tluro be one to pluck tlie flowers 
 ^^'hose sweets the sliaded walk peifmnp. 
 
 And strew their jjiuls in summer liour> 
 O'er him for whom in vain they bloom. 
 
 ^Vhose brow shall wear in joyous thronf;s 
 The niniks of fhoujjht, — who linqjTrs oVr 
 
 Some well remembered, niucli loved songs, 
 But wake> the liiippy strain no more! 
 
 Oh! "hen 1 tiii^-t ihc fiilc of j;rief 
 ■\Nill flow for nic tiiub slrong^ and lugh,
 
 21 
 
 It o-ives to death a sweet relief, 
 And I could almost wish to die. 
 
 I care not for the gororeous tomb, 
 Nor bust that shines with studied art, 
 
 No, — let me rest in silent gloom, 
 My tablet stone a gentle heart. 
 
 John Hirst. 
 Ediiilrurgh.
 
 22 
 
 SMILES AND TEARS ON THE SAME 
 COUNTENANCE. 
 
 Era il bel viso suo, quale esser suole 
 
 Di primavcra alcuna volte il cielo; 
 
 Quando la pioggia cade, e a un tempo il sole 
 
 Si sgonibra intorno il nubiloso rclo ; 
 
 E, come il rosignuol dolce carole 
 
 Mena iic i rami allor del verde stelo ; 
 
 Cosi a Ic belle lagrime Ic piume 
 
 Si bagna Amofc, c godc al chiaro lume. 
 
 K nc \.\ fare dc hegli "rolii aorrnde 
 
 j; aiualc «.tr;ih'. r nrl ni.^tcllo ammorza
 
 23 
 
 Che tra vemiiy^li, c biaiicbi fiori sceiule, 
 E teraprato chc 1' ba lira di forza 
 Contra il garzon ; che nc scudo difeiido, 
 Nc maglia doppia, ne ferrigna scorza. 
 
 Orlando Furioso. 
 
 TRANSLATION. 
 
 Her face was like the sky in early spring, 
 
 When the sun smiles upon a spangled shower 
 
 Forth from his veil of clouds ; with freshened wing 
 
 The nightingale, within his leafy bower, 
 
 Carols more sweetly— thus young- Love would ask. 
 
 When weeping blends witli smile?, no l)liss more dear
 
 24 
 
 Than in the suusliiue of that smile to bask, 
 And bathe his pinions in that beauteous tear- 
 
 And, in the flame of her all radiant eyes, 
 He lights his g'olden shafts, tempering their force 
 In the clear stream that pearly fount supplies. 
 Which, trickling down the beauteous cheek, its course 
 O'er beds of lilies fair and roses bends — 
 Then the all conquering boy with arm of might 
 Aims at the youth, nor plaited mail defends. 
 Nor tempered shield against those magic arrows bright. 
 
 S. L. 
 Gateacre, 1837
 
 THE WITHERED NOSEGAY. 
 
 I saw that fair nosegay all covered with clew, 
 Around it at morn a sweet fragrance it threw, 
 And each varied blossom in lf)veliness shone — 
 At eve I returned, and its beauty was gone. 
 The lil}- bent lowly its head to the ground, 
 The rose leaves were scattered in sadness around. 
 No wliisper was heard while they faded a\\ay, 
 So silenflv wasted those flowers of a da v.
 
 26 
 
 I s;i\v a voung cliild on liis own rnothcr's knee 
 Hlooin fair as a rost'-l»ii(] iiiiloiii from its tree ; 
 Health g'lowed in each feature, and beamed in his eye 
 The colour and clearness of sunniier's o« n skv. 
 But alas ! soon w ere shaded those eyes of deep blue, 
 The red rose was chanj^ed to the lily's pale hue, 
 Deatli's withering- breath w asted all tlie sweet bloom, 
 Ami the dear little infant was laid in the tond). 
 
 \i' dowers, why remind me as ijuickly ye shed 
 Those beautiful blossoms around the green bed, 
 U why do ye mock me, and silently say, 
 '' Behold how thj' beauty shall wither away."
 
 27 
 
 Nay, fade on, deai- emblems, and teach me to know 
 More truly the frailty that glitters below, 
 And when I am laid in the desolate grave, 
 Then o'er nij cold dust as an epitaph wave. 
 
 E. Simpson. 
 Edinhtiryh.
 
 2» 
 
 LINES ADDRESSED TO A LADY WITH 
 A STICK OF SEALING WAX. 
 
 Oft has young" Cupid on my heart 
 Made many hot attacks, 
 'Till, melting- 'noath his burning- dart, 
 I felt as soft as uau. 
 
 Yet never hath my basliful toiiyur 
 His scorching' rtatnc itvcjiUiI, 
 
 But now 'tis time that I should sjieak, 
 Or mv snd fate is scaled.
 
 29 
 
 Oh, bear my praytr, and let your smiles 
 Display some kind concession, 
 
 And let the triHing- gift 1 send 
 At length make some inipressiun. 
 
 My friends agree I could not find 
 
 A single present better, 
 For all declare, with one consent, 
 
 'T will i.uit you to « letter. 
 
 You wished I' d send you sealing wax. 
 And now you see I do it,
 
 30 
 
 And beg you '11 pen n Yuxr or two 
 To state that you '11 stick to it. 
 
 If yon approve 1 soon with joy 
 Around the room shall caper, 
 
 Then kindly say you '11 take the g-ift, 
 And put it down on paper. 
 
 So frank a course will prove it is 
 
 My office to adore you, 
 Armed cap a pie in C\ipid's mail, 
 
 I 'U come post haste before you.
 
 31 
 
 'Till then, farewell ! My fingers scarce 
 
 Can pen the word adieu! 
 But, when we meet, I trust you '11 own 
 You love a hilhj-donx. 
 
 Wm. V * * * n. 
 Stochport.
 
 32 
 
 I THINK O' THEE. 
 
 T think o' thee at iiiorn, love, 
 
 Wheu flowers begin to bloom, 
 When dews are on the thorn, love, 
 
 And on the yellow broom ; 
 When sunshine frae the hill, love, 
 
 Is glintin' o'er the lea, 
 Oh, fain Mould I lie still, love. 
 
 And think awhile o' thee. 
 
 But niair I like by far, love, 
 When day amaist is dune,
 
 33 
 
 And niclitfa's lanely star, love, 
 
 Is in the lift abunc, 
 Upon its licLt to gaze, love, 
 
 'Mang- wild flowers in the dell, 
 And think o' a' the days, love, 
 
 I 've said 't was like jersel'. 
 
 When I the lave maun join, love, 
 And wi' the lave maun srano-. 
 
 When flows the ruddy wine, love, 
 And ring-s the merry sang- ; 
 
 Although the lauch be loud, love. 
 The jest be e'er sae free,- -
 
 34 
 
 Are hours amaiiij a crowd, love, 
 Like hours I speml \vi' thee ? 
 
 I Iiae nae wealth to share, love, 
 
 Ye say ye 've uane to g'ic, — 
 Ye hae yer gowden hair, love. 
 
 Ye hae yer sparkliu' e'e, 
 That aft will kindly beam, love, — 
 
 And oh ! whate'er befa', 
 To me ye '11 ever seem, love, 
 
 The richest — best o' a'. 
 
 John Hirst. 
 Edinburijh.
 
 3o 
 
 ENIGMA. 
 
 It gives to the thunder the force of its cra-.h, 
 
 It g'ives to the lig'htning the fire" of its H;i:^ii, 
 
 Without it the oceau-wave ceases to dash ; 
 
 It is found in yon rocks of « ikl magical form. 
 
 It hlasts with the simoom, and leads on the storm; 
 
 It \varms in the sunshine, it glads in the slmuer, 
 
 And witl) roses it twines round the green summer bower; 
 
 The seasons in it have beL;inniii£; and end. 
 
 The elements own it their last constant friend ; 
 
 Slvill, science, nay even sea, sun, stars, iind sky, 
 
 Bereft oft in one common ruin would lie.
 
 36 
 
 Without it nor soldier nor sailor could roam, 
 Without it abridged are the comforts of lionie. 
 Tlioug-h unseen in the evening- dew gilding the thoin, 
 It lives in rath spauj'lc that decks it at morn ; 
 'J lioiigli its absence by harmony iicvtr Mas mi^stil, 
 Ytt jior music nor song could without it exist. 
 Tnough intimate 't is, nay leagued ever found, 
 \\ ith paupers, it does in possessions abound. 
 And found too as 'tis, oh how subtle and shy. 
 Deep in falseliood, it ne'er yet was caught in a lie. 
 Though a stranger to comfort it revels in bliss, 
 
 Tliough a stranger to love it delights in a kiss. 
 
 T. v.. J.
 
 37 
 
 ISRAEL. 
 
 Where Danube rolls unweariedly its deep and Aa- 
 
 dowed stream, 
 Or Afric's sultry sands reflect the burning torrid 
 
 gleam, 
 Wherever sighs the mournings breeze or heaves the 
 
 lonely wave, 
 A dreary wail is borne along, as echoed from the 
 
 grave. 
 The sons of Israel wander still without a place of 
 
 rest, 
 
 K
 
 38 
 
 Strang-ers thej arc in every land, wliilc cTcry land 
 
 is blest ; 
 No sympathetic feelings cheer, no soothing hand 
 
 appears, 
 Rejected and despised by all, in secret fall their tears. 
 Their harps that once by Babel's streams recalled 
 
 those happy days 
 When on Moriah's side they hung, and thrilled with 
 
 deepest praise, 
 Now broken and unstriick Hx'v lie, their voice of 
 
 sweetness fled, 
 No hand '<linI1 wake those string'> again, the harpers 
 
 all are dcrtd,
 
 39 
 
 The father^ heart lor<>ets its fjiicf to niouni Ttn 
 
 cliikhcii dear, 
 The mother on her iufiuit babe cloth pour the heavy 
 
 tear, 
 The children's features sadly wear the lineaments of 
 
 woe. 
 From gazing on their parent's brow, and wondVing 
 
 why 't is so. 
 Sweet Hope the friend of liumMu kind, that binds 
 
 the wounded heart, 
 But hovers darkly o'er their heads, and seems fain to 
 
 depart.
 
 40 
 
 Oil! when sLall happier days dawn biiglit lor tljat 
 
 afflicted race, 
 When shall their scattered sons again their wand'ring 
 
 steps retrace, 
 When shall they own that Holy One their fathers 
 
 madly slew, 
 When shall they know the curse they hear shews 
 
 that His Word is true ? 
 
 E. Simpson.
 
 41 
 
 THE BLUSH. 
 
 The languag'e of the heart! what tells it best ? 
 
 Ts it the eye that g-lances bright and fair ? 
 The kindly smiling" face? No — pride may rest, 
 
 The heart's soft lani,'-iiag'e be a-\vanting-, there : 
 For I have gazed on beauty, and have seen 
 
 How oft the haughty thought its breast inspired, 
 How oil the wish to reign o'er others queen, 
 
 To be hv all, if not beloved, admired.
 
 42 
 
 Or can the pale, pale cheek, where sternly woe 
 
 Has stamped its impress, and the gushing' tears 
 Declare the passions that have slept bclo\* , 
 
 And shew how deeply all the past endears ? 
 They may, — they do, — but still there is a form 
 
 In which the joyous heart may dress, and seem 
 Like changing sky o'ercast with cloud and storm, 
 
 While all witliin is bright as summer gleam. 
 
 And yet though neither looks nor tears may speak 
 With truth the feelings, there will sometimes steal 
 
 A crimson flush across the trembling check. 
 And all the movements of the heart reveal,™
 
 43 
 
 A flush which hope and joy and love impart, 
 
 And mingling- thoughts, such as were strange before, 
 A flush that knows not guile, for when the heart 
 Would call it back, it deepens but the more. 
 
 John Hirst. 
 Edinbufffh.
 
 44 
 
 ON A " FORGET ME NOT," 
 
 THAT IJREW UPON THE PLAINS OF WATERLOO. 
 
 Sweet modest tlower, best emblem of the brave 
 Will) now like thee here disregarded lie, 
 
 When Britain called, their lives they jiroudly g'ave, 
 Content to do their duty, and to die. 
 
 So thon, sweet tlower, unconscious of tliy wortli. 
 Art full content if thou dost live to say, 
 
 (Uratcful lo hiin wiiose tomb first g'ave thee birth, 
 •' Forget nic not," and then to fade away.
 
 45 
 
 Wliat words more sweet than these could e'er be said, 
 What lines could e'er such keen regret impart, 
 
 What better paint the sufteriugs of the dead, 
 Or j)rint their virtues deeper on tlie heart ? 
 
 Let us no more then sculptured marble raise 
 
 O'er that famed ground on w hich our warrior's fall, 
 
 Since thou far better canst declare their praise. 
 And their great deeds unto our muuh recal. 
 
 E. T. M. 

 
 46 
 
 LINES 
 
 ON THE DEATH OF THE LATE HENRY KOSCOE, ESQ. 
 
 By a Friend. 
 Of the illustrious dead, oh ! worthy son, 
 Well has thy fight been fought, thy battle won ; 
 E'en at mid-day with victory art thou crowned. 
 Thy brows in death with Christian laurel bound. 
 Thy varied faculties so meekly borne, 
 In duty's cause, so well and filly worn, 
 These, and the charity that may not fade, 
 And which in thee no worldly honour staid,
 
 47 
 
 Within tbe hearts of all have left impressed 
 
 Tlij imag'e briglit, in living' virtue dressed. 
 
 It may not pass away ! but shall remain 
 
 That we thy deathless crown may also strive to gain!
 
 THE SWISS PATRIOTS SONG 
 
 Me«t. kriwliets. aeet — ^rour qaiTei^ diied with arrovs 
 
 sme and keen. 
 Yoor swoid the wbened huntin^r-kiufe — meet near 
 
 tiK daik nvine. 
 And gatker re «itfa steadr beans, like men who sooc 
 
 shaUknow 
 To widd a PitnMfs mightr Uade, and stiike a 
 
 Fuiiar'sblov. 
 
 Wttai, shall the F iecho ra li^^ is slares". no-Hi<>— we 
 fmrnBrfed
 
 49 
 
 We cannot brcKik a tyrant's chain, though we can 
 
 brave his steel I 
 And powerful as the avalanche that thunders on oar earth 
 Shall be the phalanx that contends for Altar and for 
 
 Hearth. 
 
 We love these native hills of ours capped with eternal 
 
 snow, 
 The forests green that hang above, the streams that 
 
 rush beloff. 
 And each broad lake that seems at mom a vast and 
 
 golden sea ; 
 Oars is indeed a srlorioos home; — fit dwelling for the 
 
 free!
 
 m 
 
 And better far to nuHt our late beneath a foeman's 
 
 hand, 
 Thau live with ylooni upon our souls, a blijjht upon 
 
 our land, 
 
 And nobler far to find a grave beside the mountain 
 
 l)ine, 
 Than see our ancient rights depart, our liberties 
 drdiiir. 
 
 We ask no <iilef— wr ask no tears, — the friends who 
 
 love us best 
 Need not to wct'p for us when laid within our lowly 
 
 rest,
 
 51 
 
 For will not o'er our memories be twined the briylitcst 
 
 wreath 
 That, like a hah>, Fame displays around a hiro's 
 
 death ? 
 
 Will not our sons in alter time unto our graves repair, 
 While lofty thoughts and high resolve throb in their 
 
 bosoms there ? 
 The very breeze that wanders by will whisper to 
 
 their cars 
 Talcs of the fight for libcrty-'-the deeds of by-gone 
 
 vcars. 
 
 John Hiust.
 
 52 
 
 FRAGMENT. 
 
 We are bold hualcrs, Luulcd still, 
 
 Straiuing and panting out of breath, 
 Chasing our own uncertain will, 
 
 Chased by our certain death. 
 Trom the young child who loves to chase 
 
 A shadow on a green hill side, 
 And the bold boy, who loves the race 
 
 Kept b} a torrent's tide,
 
 53 
 
 Marking his progress by the flowers 
 
 He riing-s upon tlie eJdvini;- stream,— 
 Unto the vouth in smuiiier hours 
 
 Chasing- some fond love-iireaui, 
 All hunters are, each hunted flies, 
 
 Follou ing- the rainbow lig-Jit oT ianie. 
 Or chasing joy 'neath April skies, 
 
 Or honour's nobler game ; 
 All fleeing from the thought of grief, 
 
 Or from the phantoms of remorse, 
 Or from the truths that tell how brief 
 
 Shall be their earthly courst ;
 
 34 
 
 All every nerve and sinew strain, 
 
 Whilst the earth slides their steps beneath, 
 And all arc chased and all o'erta'en 
 By the stern hunter— Death! 
 
 M. A. BROWNE. 
 iuTjyjoo/, 1837.
 
 5.5 
 
 Translated from the German of " Frithioff.'^ 
 INGEBORG'S COMPLATNT. 
 
 Gone is the summer's rest ! 
 
 Brawling the sea heaves her snow-white breast ; 
 Yet^ — ah, how gladly her raving- 
 Would I be braving ! 
 
 Long, from the shore 
 
 I gaze — 'till his sail streaks the far-west no more : 
 
 With Frithiofl", o'er the sea yonder 
 
 'T were bliss to wander!
 
 56 
 
 Waves ! do not rise 
 
 Fiercely between us — too fast the sail flies! 
 
 Stars! guide Lim surely, and hriyiitcii, 
 
 Throu"!! jrloom to liirbten. 
 
 ^VLen Spring is licre, 
 
 He will come back— but nn loved one be neiir! 
 None in tiic valley to meet hiui : 
 
 Or at home greet him! 
 
 Cold, then, and clay. 
 
 Deep will she lie, of love's sorrow the prey, 
 
 Or weep in secret, unheeded, 
 
 Forcibly wedded.
 
 57 
 
 Falcoii, left iiO«" 
 
 Bv liiiii foi-o-ottcn- liow (lo.n, bud, ait llioii '. 
 
 I'let't hunter, thee his car;* uoiirislied, 
 
 Tliou shalt be ehcrishetl. 
 
 There doth he stand, 
 
 Wrought ill my tapestry, \uth tiiee on his haiid- 
 
 In tliy )>lumes silver thr.'ads mingle, 
 
 Golden each single^ '^ 
 
 Falcon wings bore 
 
 Frcia''' from earth, all her wandtiings o'er; 
 
 Oder, her life's joy, still wooing — 
 
 Vainly pursuing.
 
 58 
 
 Wouldst th'ju (ui> briiiLT 
 
 llolit for mc, binl! coulll 1 mount on thy wing? 
 
 — No ! Death— -Death (nily can h iid mc 
 
 Wi!io;-s to beliicnd mc ! 
 
 Hunter the free ! 
 
 Look, from my shoulder, far over the sea : 
 
 Gaze! There are but Idue skies o'er us -- 
 
 Wide waves before us ! 
 
 - -Vv'hcn 1 arn cold, 
 
 And lie comes back, be my fate by thee told : 
 Ix)ve's welcoiuc for thy lord keeping, 
 
 toniforl Ills weeping- ! 
 
 W. B. C.
 
 59 
 
 NOTES. 
 
 1. Single is the falconer's proper term for a 
 hawk's talon. 
 
 2. Freia's mysterious flight, over all the earth, 
 upon falcou-wings, in quest of Oder, forms a con- 
 spicuous legend in the Scandinavian mythos.
 
 m 
 
 SONG, 
 
 Quench not the light that soon must fuilf, 
 Nor (lamp the (ire that soon must ilie ; 
 
 Nor let to-morrow's ills invade 
 The hour to-day devotes to joy. 
 
 All "lid \vilii music's softest swell 
 
 Would mingle sorrow's piercing moan ? 
 
 Or to the bounding spirit toll 
 
 How soon the charm of life is flown ?
 
 61 
 
 Say, is the rose's sceut less sweet 
 Because its bloom must soon decay ? 
 
 Or shall we shun the bliss to meet 
 That cannot here for ever stay ? 
 
 No !---by the power that bliss who gave, 
 This hour we '11 from the future burrow, 
 
 And all that fate allows us save 
 
 From the dread shipwreck of to-morrow. 
 
 W. R.
 
 62 
 
 LINES 
 TO A BOY DESTROYING TLOWERS. 
 
 Canst thou again that flower combine, 
 
 Replace its petals one by one, 
 Formed, perfumetl, bv the Hand Divine, 
 
 A thotig-htlcss moment hath undone ? 
 
 Caii^t tb.ou tlie scattered leaves unite 
 In ordf T romi(] the parent stem, 
 
 Restore the sticnj^fh— as ihoii conldsl l)light- 
 The beaiUy of earth's little gcra ? 
 
 •^
 
 63 
 
 Xot all Uie science, art, and power, 
 
 Or yet the handicraft of man, 
 Could now repair, in tiiat fair flower, 
 
 Destruction which thv hand hc^an. 
 
 Then mar not what thou canst not make, 
 
 In wiser acts thy time employ, 
 Go —learn for thy Creator's sake 
 
 His works to cherish, not destroy. 
 
 K, H.
 
 64 
 
 TO A BUNCH OF SNOWDROPS, MINGLED 
 WITH EVERGREENS, 
 
 Given to me hj a Friend, lOth Febriiarij, 1837. 
 
 BY w. M. 
 
 Sweet gentle snowdrop! earliest child of Spring, 
 Whose modest form of captivating hue, 
 
 Nurs'd in the wintry gale, 
 
 And cradled hy the hoar-frost pale. 
 Was brought to life v> hen nought of lovely else we 
 view ;
 
 66 
 
 Thou art the lierald of the coming flow cus 
 Which JiiigTi- jet h ithin their mossy cell, 
 
 Or wlicro sweet spirits gay, 
 
 And fairy too, and fay, 
 Sport in ihc summer breeze, or midst the vviUl flowers 
 dwell ; 
 
 And like the dove that from the hallowed ark 
 Went forth to view the waste ol" waters wide, 
 
 And came again to tell 
 
 How it bcfel 
 The ancieut earth, and how abated ivas tiio tide,
 
 63 
 
 So now thou comcst, telling of sweet Spring', 
 And licr gay beauteous handmaids crowned with 
 flowers, 
 
 And the glad joyous hum 
 
 With which they come 
 Even now I hear from their Idalian bowers. 
 
 Thy form, sweet flowrct, is a spotless page, 
 Yet full of hidden meaning, and a voice, 
 
 With music fraught, 
 
 And gentle thought, 
 Sj)eaks from thy cavcrned bell, and bids us to rejoice.
 
 (\7 
 
 Yet other thoiig-hts than tliese thou bidst arise 
 Wilhin my heart, and as I <^aze on thee, 
 
 That elegance of form, 
 
 Amid the whirliug^ storm, 
 Brings back my thoughts to lier who gave to me 
 
 The flower, which is the mirror of her life, 
 The g-lass of her sweet being, m here we view 
 
 Simplicity that blooms 
 
 Where truth illumes. 
 And modesty in which sweet virtue yet shines thro'
 
 68 
 
 In some Jone vale thou rcarcdst tJiy pensive hca«l, 
 Whcro the soft balnij' winds did love to str« v, 
 
 Enamoured of thy eharms ; 
 
 Thy loveliness yet warms 
 The harsher gales of spring-, even as my lay. 
 
 And she who is thy counterpart, was one 
 On whom all eyes do love to linger, all 
 
 Sweet thoughts do rest — 
 
 vSome sjiirit hkst, 
 She seems lo bind all hearts ^uth^u jjct >\(.lcumc 
 thrall.
 
 (5!) 
 
 And so, swoot snowdrop, as thou nun<^led art 
 With tlie rich ever greens, whiclj seem lo cherish, 
 
 With tender care, 
 
 From tlie cliill air, 
 Thy fragile form, too aj)t, alas ! to jh risli, 
 
 So shall she be who gave to me the tlower 
 And the fresh evergreens, which are to im- 
 
 With feeling rife. 
 
 The shadowed life 
 Of thoughts which time nor care to change sliall e'er 
 have power.
 
 70 
 
 THE FI.OWER. 
 
 01) ! ken yc « liare tlic buniie riiis 
 
 Wi' laughing, dancin^j;- speed alang, 
 And whare the restless birdies flit, 
 
 And artless pour their blithest sanL,"-! 
 It 's there the trees I like to see 
 
 When glinliii' in the sunny shmver, 
 But iiiiiist I like them — tliat they i^ie 
 
 Thi ir slirltf r to a b(inn\ fl^\^(,■r. 
 
 Ipon tlie brink the Hdwrie irniws 
 And lifts its bead wi' modest grace,
 
 71 
 
 * 
 
 Its leaves halCuliitc, IiairciimsoMtd ou re, 
 
 Like blushes spread on licaiitv's fai-e ; 
 Ami itliers there are sprinyiu' rouiul, 
 
 Yet seems it hlouiniii' by itsel', 
 A bonny speck on Nature's lap, 
 And likc--t() wha I sha'na tell. 
 
 Abune the stream it aftcu nods, 
 And closes maist its blossoms lair, 
 
 Aft, dreepin' u i' the mornin' dew, 
 Unfaulds and woos tiie caller air; 
 
 Now shrinkin' frao the human toucii, 
 Now tossiu' frae the breeze a» a',- -
 
 The niair I see, tlie luair 1 lo'o 
 
 That flower sae like ye kenna ulm 
 
 Oh! I Mild keep that ))o)iiiy flower 
 
 Frae hitter cauhl, and siielly bhist, 
 And gatlicr aft' its leaves wi' tare 
 
 When dowiii' wi' auld age at la>t, 
 And auc as bonny T « iid screen 
 
 A\'i' ready art I'rae every \\ae, 
 Bnt may nae l)last o' \;ai](lly eaie 
 
 Come near her it resemhlos sae. 
 
 John IIiusT.
 
 Tin; WHITE ROSE. 
 
 Call not the ruiiJisoii rose 
 Fairest of blossoms! she niav be their queen, 
 May be most worshipped for her passionate hue, 
 And her rich incense, — but far lovelier 
 I deem her snowy sister, that pure star. 
 Lighting- the dark green of a shady bower 
 With her sweet presence. Purest, holiest. 
 Of flowers, is that white rose! The lily fair 
 Perhaps is statelier, but the stainless rose
 
 74 
 
 Js till' iii()>l loiii-liiuy. Slir rciiiiiuls us still 
 Of tlio (leej) criiiisou of tlie summer's queen 
 By her fair moulded form, and yet hath nought 
 Of earthly taint about her. She is a maid 
 So strong' in purity, the sun may look 
 For ever on her, and yet fail to call 
 A bhisli into licr chctk ! 
 
 M. A. BROWN K
 
 THE MOTHER'S HOPE. 
 
 Go- -you little witching- fairy, 
 
 Prattling- on, \vliat would you say, 
 
 Bounding- round ine, light and air\', 
 All endearment, love, and play. 
 
 Soft your cherub lips are pouting-, 
 What new grief now dims A'our eye, 
 
 Smiling yet through tears, you 're ddulilin' 
 Whether yoM shcuM l,iu;;ti or cry.
 
 76 
 
 NoAV behind my chair yon 're climljing-, 
 
 Animated smiles I meet. 
 Song in imitative chiming-, — 
 
 Now you 're rollingf at my feet- 
 
 Lovely child, of joyous beauty, 
 How ihy playful arts endear, 
 
 Blessing- fond parental duty, — 
 Is thy dodui to linger here ? 
 
 K. H.
 
 STANZAS. 
 
 The liuiu of tlie city, ;iiid stir of the tliroiig" 
 
 That hastens in endless confusion alunii;-, 
 
 I wearily move in, and long- to be free, 
 
 As the bird in the cage for its nest on the tree. 
 
 But when T forsake the proud duellijij^s of men, 
 
 To roam in the valley or hazle tree don, 
 
 To climb the steep mountain, and wander as free 
 
 As those balmy breezes that whisper round me ; 
 
 Emotions of rapture thrill fast through my fiame, 
 
 Far dearer than all the vain throbhings of fame.
 
 78 
 
 ITas^t liiDii cyry filt t!i<^ soroiioMoss lliat steals, 
 Liko (lr\> -drops (Icscfiiiliiip' iijxpii tlic l:i'<'("ii liills, 
 In pcacolul fjiiiisceiKC (lisjx'lliny tljc strilc 
 Tlio cares and the sorrows and tminoil oC life; 
 When iiiiirMuiiiM<^' streams lull lite spirit to rest, 
 ATid silenee eaeli mnrniMr tliat tr(iiil)les the breast ; 
 As they pour tliiir hrighl ualcMs in dark roeky 
 
 four.tains, 
 And echoes reply ('ri)ni the lisleninf;' nionntains ? 
 Aiul liast thou sal lone on the th\nie covered hrof, 
 A\ h( n the shadows of niorning- \ure fadin<^ away ; 
 Anil Iniah; d llic sweet peiTnnies a^ liicli floated aronnd 
 Lxhaled frmn tin- fl'i\nets that idnshed on the ground,
 
 AMiilc liiariiUil in yldi'J tije suninipr sun's Ix'rtnis 
 Reposeu on (lie mountains and ('anecil on tlic stroaiiis ; 
 And no voice «as licaid i'rom tlie licalli-co\eicd steep 
 But the croak of the raven and bleating- of sheep ? 
 ITast thou e\ er heard the wild music of trees, 
 Vv^hen each leafy branch is just stirred bv the breeze, 
 And felt those emotions that rise iu the mind 
 "When tbiills every chord in the bosom confined ; 
 Tlic secret licart tremblings — so solemn —so deep — 
 These hymns of the forest awake from their sleep ? 
 M here is the minstrel, and m here is the lyre, 
 Can WTike from its slumbers the soul's hidden fire,
 
 80 
 
 Which then from its deepest recesses forth caiuc 
 And in the hveast kindled its holiest flame ? 
 My spirit retires to enchantments like those, 
 When weary my hody is sunk in repose. 
 And when sleep dispels each vexation and pain, 
 I visit the scenes of my childhood agfain. 
 
 E. Simpson. 
 Edinburgh, 1837.
 
 81 
 
 TO THE IVY. 
 
 Ivy, I say, tlioii art the poet's plant, 
 
 For foiully round some sapling- art tliou seen, 
 Checking- its early g-rovvth; but thou dost grant 
 
 Its lifeless trunk a wreath for e^ cr g-rcen. 
 
 Lowly thou art, but aye tliy leaves so slieen 
 Catch the bright beams, and a\ ith the zephyrs play ; 
 
 But thou canst mount the clouded cliffs, I ween, 
 And grace tlic prouflcsi t()\^■'rs ^vilh L;arlaiids gay.
 
 82 
 
 Tliou, too, tliy blossoms wild dost kiiidlv suiriid 
 111 tlie cold la]) ol" winter, scarce rci)aid 
 With a slant sunbeam ; while some sickly blado 
 JSoiiie loieigii Hower is honoured in tlij stead, 
 Tho' Nature has adorn'd thee nothing- scant.-- 
 — TlHr< lore, 1 s-ay, thou art the Poet's plant. 
 
 J. i\ M. DoVASTON.
 
 83 
 
 ^\ITH1•:RED TREES. 
 
 liY M. A. BROWNE. 
 
 What do ye here, ye withered trees ? 
 
 The sun and the vernal rain, 
 And the softening- breath of the spring-lidc breeze, 
 
 Revive ye not again ! 
 Why do your leafless branches s]no:i(l 
 
 er the fair boughs' bud and l)looni, 
 And hang o'er the brigiit young sapling's head. 
 
 Like judphccio of gloom ?
 
 84 
 
 Why do yo stretcli in tlio sunny air, 
 
 As if stripped b_y the winlrj ^viiid, 
 And the lig'ht and joy of summer share, 
 
 That ye cannot jiay in kind i' 
 Why do ye cumber the smiling- e;irll), 
 
 And shadow the tliick gTccn grass ? 
 Make \^ ay for the young- shrubs' leafy mirth, 
 
 Pass- -from this Inight world pass! 
 
 Tiicic came a siglj IVoni tlic wiihcred boughs, 
 
 A murmur and a moan, 
 Like a rustling wiiul o'er llic cii jiing- snows 
 
 111 \\ inter, was its tone :
 
 85 
 
 It seemed to saj---" Alas, to tliiiik 
 
 " Of man's ingratitude ; 
 " That we from his night are Iiid to slirink, 
 
 " We, monarchs of the wood ! 
 
 '' We used to be as ;^Teen and fair 
 
 " As tlie trees ye cherish now,— 
 " And a crown of leaves were \>()u( to hv.w 
 
 " On every lofty bougli ; 
 " We used to laiiyh in ihe pleasant sun, 
 
 " And bathe in the heavy dew,— 
 " Why grudgr (!ia( now our youth is i^one, 
 
 " We linger ycl in view '.
 
 86 
 
 " Wc arc liii<^-cniig- but like ii^cd moii, 
 
 " Willi hearts and passions cold,— 
 " Would ye scorn your own grey fathers then, 
 
 " Because they have grown old i' 
 " Ye look on them with a reverent look, 
 
 '• Though bent and aged now, 
 " And read, as ye would read a book, 
 " The wisdom on each brow ! 
 
 " Do not those reverend parents teach 
 
 " That ye must pass away, 
 " And may not we such lessons preach, 
 
 •• or -U.^^ I. lit >-iuc decay ?
 
 87 
 
 " When the flattering spring' winds wander by 
 " These fair young leaves and flowers, 
 
 " We tell them, with a low deep sigh, 
 " Their fate must be as ours .'" 
 Liverpool, 1838.
 
 88 
 
 THE CLOUDS. 
 
 I love the summer sky to view, 
 
 When lig-ht and heat around arc glowing", 
 And o'er us hangs a sea of blue 
 
 Intensely bright, thoiigli never tlowing, 
 
 But more I love the cbeqiicrcd dress 
 That sky above is daily taking, 
 
 Amusing by its fitfulness. 
 
 And I'aiicv's droiuin flight awaking:
 
 8!) 
 
 How oft it seems, --as if a cloud 
 
 Were fixed by some great hand above us, 
 To be for earth a peaceful shroud 
 
 Pure as the hearts tliat truly love us ! 
 
 How oft, — as if a i)haiit<)m tlirong- 
 Were o'er the welkin wildly eliasin;^- 
 
 In shapes the breeze that sweejis a'.on^"- 
 Is forniiny now, and now (iffaciiij^- ! 
 
 Wlien antunui's sun has left the skies, 
 While yet his liyhf i- pleased to linger, 
 
 We sec a distant Wdrid ,iiise, 
 
 Like paintini^f of h ma'^ic linger,—
 
 iJO 
 
 A laiiil III" (iccan. cloud, and liill, 
 
 Aiui rocks tlic i^uldcii \>utcrs sliadiiii;-, — 
 
 A land so lovely — soleimi— still — 
 It yricves us iiuicli to find so fading'. 
 
 1 nevci' look on buddiny flowers, 
 
 I never list to gay birds singing, 
 But tliink 1 ol ibe clouds, «bosc shoMcrs 
 
 To earth its brightest bloom are l)ringing'. 
 
 1 never iicar <i(" soaring thought 
 
 The ytMilhlul mind delights In cherish, 
 
 But muse on seeiie> llie clouds have bronjjht. 
 That (|iii(kl_v eoiiie, and (jiiickly ])erish.
 
 Ul 
 
 I iir\('i- srr a l)iir(l<'iioil n(ui1, 
 
 O'er uliiili the "j-Iooin of sorron piissrs, 
 But tliink of" stonm- hours that roll 
 
 Above our heads their rrowning- masses. — 
 
 Let fleet iinagination bound 
 
 Throuo-h heaven— throndi earth- -through nature 
 
 Its fitting resting- plaec is found 
 
 In clouds— the liail--the ever-changing. 
 
 John Hirst.
 
 THE MOUNTAIN HEATHER. 
 
 When whirlwinds rage and tempests lower, 
 And desolation rules the ])lain, 
 There is a little mountain flower 
 That gently rears its head again, 
 That lends its perfume to the wind, 
 And \\ afting on\^ ard thus togollicr. 
 It solace brings for storms unkind, 
 The l)onny blooming- i)iiridr hratli<T.
 
 m 
 
 On it the inouutaiueers repose, 
 Soft on the bed of nature sleep, 
 O'er them its frag-rant sweets disclose 
 The honey dew, their vigils keep 
 These hardy sons, with nerves well strun"-, 
 Heed not the bleak and wintry weather— - 
 Hearts then at ease, cares backward iliin^-, 
 "\\ hen resfinti" on the niomitain hoalhcr. 
 
 Thus nature in her sternest mood 
 Some g-ift dispenses e\erywhere, 
 Its g-ems are found beneath the Hood, 
 And ])erfume in the troubled air ; 
 
 X
 
 94 
 
 \\n\\ \y.\\>\^y ill'" I lie cliocrfiil lieart, 
 Willi all tlic lightness of a fcallicr, 
 Feels joy a Hower can thus impart, 
 Tn Scol ill's jiiide — th<- lioniiy iieathcr. 
 
 K. H.
 
 &5 
 
 LINES 
 
 Oil t/ic Ahdiiiioii of Slaven/ in l/ic Jiritish Colonies. 
 
 From the West Tudia's warm isles, 
 \Vl)ere iiatiue wears her softest smiles, 
 Where rivers run n'er g-olden sands, 
 And gorgeous birds fly forth in bands, 
 A plaintive sound came o'er the sea, 
 
 For in those lands 
 
 Slaves with clasped hand> 
 Cried " pity ns, and set us free."
 
 96 
 
 Old Eiiglaiul hears the luuiiiiiriil sound 
 Come to her shoies ; her ])Mlses bounil 
 The slavish fetters to uiulo, 
 Which may she never have to rue. 
 She sends a mandate IVom bcr shore 
 
 T(. :.1I the lands 
 
 Wljicli ^lir coiiiiiiands, 
 To tell tlieiii thev arc slaves no nion'. 
 
 Now joy riiijns in the Indian i>lcs, 
 And tears are changed In joyous smiles- 
 England is praised l)y old and youn^, 
 England is blessed by cvt'ry toiij^ue —
 
 97 
 
 Sow is there iiothiiiy left to feai-— 
 
 Wliere are the chains, 
 
 Ami the sharp ))ains, 
 That wore out souls from year to vcar ! 
 
 The ancient Romans took delight 
 To sec slaves meet in deadh tiylif, 
 Till, faint \vitli Idood h.sl in ihe siril",., 
 The weakest yirld.d up |,is lif;.; 
 But since religion has'ucll spivad. 
 In every clime, 
 In modern lime, 
 These hoirid cnirliif-- lnnr PI, i].
 
 98 
 
 What man uliu Ijcais thu Chiistiaii name, 
 But blushes with indignant shame 
 To see his fellow chain the slave 
 "Whom it is in his power to save ? 
 Alas, too many still are found, 
 
 Who do not heed 
 
 To do tijc deed 
 Fiivbidden on the Britisii ground. 
 
 But now let this day always be 
 Reckoned a day uf jubilee. 
 On u hicli Old England nobly gave 
 I'recdnin to every Al'ric slave ;
 
 m 
 
 Au;l may ^'ue ne'er have to repent 
 Tlie blessed tiene 
 When India's clime 
 
 Saw Freedom's glorious charter sent ! 
 
 l^A School Prize Poem. 
 The Author Ji/teeii ijears of affe.']
 
 100 
 
 ENGLISir MELODY. 
 " Oh ! ponder ivell." 
 
 Oil ! ponder well, jc lovers liglH, 
 Nor play with hearts too soon, 
 
 Love, like a eliilcl, will break ere ni-j^Iit, 
 The toys he nursed at noon. 
 
 lie dreams not in liis elfin bowers 
 Where Bliss is newly bloAvn, 
 
 Chill May has often wept o'er floM rrs 
 By thoughtless April thrown.—
 
 lOJ 
 
 Tlieii ponder wt-il jour eailj suit, 
 
 And Autumn's evening hour 
 With richer bhiom shall flush the fruit, 
 
 Than April did the flower. 
 
 J. F. M. D.
 
 102 
 
 FROM 'ORLANDO 1 UUIOSO." 
 
 La vcrj^iuella c simile a la io»a, 
 Che'n bel oriaiilin su la iiati^a spina, 
 Mentre sola f sicma si riposa, 
 Nc grc"gj,^c, iie pastor se le aviciua ; 
 L' aura soavr, o V alba iii<riatlosa, 
 L'acqua, la tnra al !^ll() favor s'iiiiliiiia ; 
 Gioveiii vaijlii <' Doiiiir iiiaiMmato, 
 Aiiiaim liavcriif c sciii, «■ fciiiiiic (iniate. 
 
 Ma nun si tusto dal matcriin stelo 
 Riuiossa \i«iic', '■ 'lal --uo ii\''Yv \rv(\r,
 
 10.i 
 
 Clio, quanto liavca. da gli liiKmiiiu, c dal ciflo 
 Favor, gratia, c htUoza, tiitto pcrdc 
 La verginc, t-lie '1 fior, di die }iiu zelo, 
 Che de' begli occhi, e de la vita, haver do, 
 Lascia altiui cone, il pregio, c' havea iiiati 
 Pcrde iiel cor di tutti gli altri amanti. 
 
 IMITATION. 
 
 The iirodcst maid is like a hcautooiis rose 
 In a fair garden ; on her native tliorn 
 Secure from every niflilcss touch she hlous, 
 And courts the breezes r>r llie dewy morn ; 
 While each enamoured ^outli and tender maid 
 Seeks her fair hud^, their '■noM v brows to braid
 
 101 
 
 But should the rose desert her parent tree, 
 Her beauty fades, and all her t^raee decays ; 
 Just so, the hapless maid, it lashly she 
 Her modest worth, that flower oi" peerless praise, 
 Plucked by rude hands, resign : — what magic power 
 Can plant this rose again witliin her native bower? 
 
 S. L. 
 C a tea (re, 1837
 
 105 
 
 THE SHGOTIXO STAR. 
 
 Amid the silent comille^sH; liost. 
 
 That slumbers iu the sky, 
 What star is that which ip.ukkv^. moi^l, 
 
 And shoots alou^" and dies, — 
 Seen all at once, and oo«c ^vhiji sci)), 
 Sweeping- the distant orlis between ! 
 
 Oh ! can it be that some f;iif world 
 
 Has fled Ticfoie the l"io«n 
 Of Him whose miyhtj arm has huiicd 
 
 The flashin>r liohining down, 
 And that ere now the sinner's err 
 Tells of his fearful jtrronv ! 
 
 A a
 
 105 
 
 Or can it he (and sweet tlie tiidiiyiil) 
 
 Tliat sjiirit |iiire lia?« ^oiio 
 JO yield the blcssing^ })ravcr has soiig^ht, 
 
 And Imsh the mourner's inoan, 
 A light -encii fled Messenger, 
 Of irmjM'd sonl the eojnforter ! 
 
 It may he these— it may be more 
 Than liidu, jny siml, caui«t scan, 
 
 Sinne scene suMinie of" Ixmndloss power 
 Beyond llie th(>uj,^hts of man, 
 
 At ^^hielI tiie a\»e-sfruck angels g"aze, 
 
 Wliile \\ondcr humhlv ni'lts to yiraisc. 
 
 John Hinsr.
 
 107 
 
 TVro SONNETS. 
 
 Advcrsit'f. 
 
 Adversity, to teach us what M-e are 
 
 Is thy appointed (ask.-- We learn from thee 
 That we are barques on au uncertain sea, 
 
 Sleepinjr o'er rug-ged rocks, serene and fair, 
 
 Sleeping short while, as youth's unruffled sail 
 Swells to the breeze of joy on pleasure's tides. 
 
 And skims all easy to the vernal gale. 
 
 As the green halcyon o'er the surface glides.
 
 108 
 
 Anon, at tliy rude breatli tlie sky is dimmed, 
 Flutter Uie shrouds, and the hit;- bilious heave. 
 
 And where all azure late the halcyou skimmed, 
 The sea-mew screamini;- rides the stormy/ wave. 
 
 Then does thy voice this wholesome lesson hear, 
 
 Advwsity, to teach us what wc are. 
 
 llie (i'lou-ii,o)in. 
 
 Worm of the nisj^ht, thee let the Poet view. 
 And learn to ])oint his mcnlul spark aiiyht, 
 
 When on the wayside hank lij^hl .^preiit with dew, 
 Thun kindlcst thy gnccn lamp of emerald bright, 
 Pure, sclf-ilUimined, not nilii borrowed lifjht
 
 109 
 
 Tinselled, like busy insects of the d.iy, 
 
 Thou giv'st a brilliance to the silent night, 
 
 That cheers the homeward trav'Ucr on his wa}'. 
 
 Poor worm, (the pensive Poet well might say) 
 Ev'n He that lit thee on this liuniblc soil. 
 
 Hung all yon lamps that his high dome array. 
 And feeds their fires with everlasting oil. 
 
 And ev'n my lamp, poor worm, like theirs and thine, 
 
 Shines not in vain, if in His praisi- if sljinc. 
 
 J. F. M. D. 
 
 t h
 
 no 
 
 VERSES 
 written after rrudinp an nciouii/ of ihc olloiipl In 
 collect tithes al lialhronnac, in December, ISM. 
 
 or old beneath our fair green tree?, 
 
 The druids' vicdnis bled, 
 Anil borror-stnak to learn of lliese, 
 
 W r trcinl)lcd as we read. 
 
 Tbc wlieels of eastern Juggernaut 
 Gleam liright with Hindoo gore, 
 
 And bones of pilgrims. \vr are laugbl. 
 Do whiten all tllf" ^Imrr,
 
 II 
 
 Aiul wrll ilir hrinv (car m;iv start 
 From cvcrv Cliristian's ovr, 
 
 Ami anijuisli pierce his thruhlji:io- Iioarf, 
 AVhci! ihws ilie lieathcn die. 
 
 But what amazement fills the soul, 
 When blood our streets defile ; 
 
 And streams of crimson idly roll, 
 Through Sister Erin's isle. 
 
 Weep Scotia-- for the shamrock's leaves 
 
 Arc stained with awful red ; 
 Weep, England— lor th.v sistei- grieves, 
 
 And hangs her helpless herd.
 
 11-2 
 
 IIoM' long- upon the altar hijih. 
 Before our tear-dimmed eyes, 
 
 Shall burst the gasping stitled cry 
 Of human sacrifice ? 
 
 tell nic not of riglits nor la\v, 
 While thus the victims groan ; 
 
 Couldst thou but glance at what I ^;{\v, 
 'T would melt thy heart of stone. 
 
 Repent-- -repent — llmugli iiiio ii Iw, 
 For yonder lowers the sky ; 
 
 Haste for thy life, and r|iiid;ly Her, 
 Lest also thou shouldst die.
 
 il.) 
 
 SONNET. TO ISABEL. 
 
 Ten years since we have met, fair Isabel ; 
 When last thy smiling- face hy me was seen, 
 Thou wert a merry maiden of eig-hteen. 
 
 And I remember that brijjlit day full well ; 
 We had been g^athering wild flowers in the wood, 
 
 And thou wast twining- some about thy hair, 
 
 When came the summons, and I left thee there, 
 
 And thou astonished on the g-reen hill stood 
 
 c c
 
 114 
 
 Uatcliiiiy my tjuick (Icimitmc. Xo>\ llicii arf 
 Perha])s not ijuitc so nuliaiitly hriylit, 
 But oh, how lovely in tliy matron li{^lit, 
 
 Ami still as dear unto this saddened heart ; 
 
 Alas, my home no more near thine may be,— 
 
 I can but bless thee now in passing hy. 
 
 M. A. Browne.
 
 ll.j 
 
 TO THE " MVOSOTIS I'Al.dSTRIS," 
 (wiumiiui (HI the Field of Waterloo. 
 
 Where iilee|) llic hiave, on lionoui's sainted bed, 
 Thou, lovely flower, ait wildlj seen to wave 
 
 Thj fragrant incense o'er the valiant dead ; 
 A blooming' tribute to the soldier's grave ! 
 
 The dews of morn condensed in glittering gems, 
 With crystal stream thy bending- foliage lave, 
 While sighing breezes scatter from thy stems, 
 
 The tears of riaturC" o'er the sioWicr's grave.
 
 IJC 
 
 In union willi a ^V(■(■|(illy iiaiion's tears, 
 
 Thus NatuiT mourns tlio relics of tiie biave, 
 
 And in thy buds a grateful tablet roars. 
 
 Inscribed 1)V Fanev, on tbe sojtliej-'s i>ruve. 
 
 " Forget nic not,'' in silent tones they say, 
 
 While spring revives tby l)Iossonis o'er the brave 
 An onibiem t'f that liieat triuiupbant day, 
 
 When angels shall untlosr the soldier's grave.
 
 117 
 
 ROUNDELAY. 
 
 Br J. F. M. novAsroN. 
 
 'T is life fo youui,^ lovers, in carl j spring' time, 
 
 In the spring time all so fair, 
 Thro' the meadows to go where tlie jiriinroses g"row, 
 
 A-breathing the mild mild air ; 
 When the butterfly comes, and the gieat bee hnms 
 
 Round the sallow -bush, g-osling-elad, 
 And a-tweet tweet tweet, go the little birds sweet, 
 
 tor the heart, oh, the jirart it is g^lad I 
 
 Dd
 
 IIS 
 
 'T is life to Nouiit!' lovers, in liiiih suiiiukm- (1«\», 
 
 In tlie suiiimcr days all so (iii(\ 
 All lithe to be laid in the green green shade, 
 
 Or bask in the broad snnshine : 
 ^^ hen the hank sails high in the l)luc bine sskj 
 
 With light clouds thinly clad, 
 And the merry flies brisk on the warm wall frisk, 
 
 For the heart, oh, tlie heart it is glad I 
 
 'T is life to young lovers, iu deep winter niglits, 
 
 In the winter nights all so long", 
 "When the fire shines light on ffir f.irr?. so bright 
 
 or ijie gay gay soiial llnong ;
 
 iir> 
 
 Willi t!ic to;isi aiii! the dance icul tlic sparkling glance 
 
 Of tlie damsels deftly clad, 
 While the sharp notes riiiy on the niinsticrs itring, 
 
 For the heart, oh, the heart it is glad '. 
 
 'T is life with young lovei's in every time, 
 
 As the year it runs hlithely ahout ; 
 For the heart that is honest is happy within, 
 
 And all is then happy without. 
 Like the ylad sun still, let earth turn as she will, 
 
 Sees her face in his beams ever clad, 
 So the oyc of delight sees everything bright. 
 
 For the heart, oh, the heart it is glad !
 
 120 
 
 LINES 
 
 written on the death of a yoiuir/ hidi/ on a tnnriiinff 
 
 of great brightness, after a fall of snow. 
 
 How briglitly beams that roseate raj 
 
 Upon the snow-wrcath'd tree, 
 Emblem at once of hoi v liglit, 
 
 And spotless pinit_)'. 
 
 So to Imagination's eve, 
 
 Appears that miich-lovrd form, . . 
 
 Whose gentle spirit ?oar» on high, 
 
 Scrnrr from crei v storm
 
 1-21 
 
 But lovelier far than yon briyhi beam 
 
 Is that celestial ray, 
 \Vliich from an everlasting" stream 
 
 Aroinul her hiow sh;tll \>\ay. 
 
 And ])iirer far tlian spodes.s ^iiow, 
 That robe oC radiKincc brigijf, 
 
 \\ hieh now cnwraji^ her saiufrd form, 
 Amid those worlds of liybt. 
 
 Her soul escaped to realms above 
 
 Immortal joys shall bless. 
 Her glory — the Redeemer's love- - 
 
 TJcr r"b('— I^i^ ri''!)li^ousness. 
 
 L e
 
 122 
 
 THE ORCHARD IN BLOSSOM. 
 
 Go bid the poet, in its loveliest bloom, 
 
 I>(iok on the orchard's blossoms: larg'ely spread 
 In \NhItc profuse, light pink, and richest red, 
 
 And varvin^' but in beauty and perfume. 
 
 Then tell him of the sad untimely doom 
 
 That sure awaits them. Millions soon must shew 
 
 That e\ 'n coy May can winter's garb assume. 
 And sporli\e shod lier sliox^'r"- of iiiiniic snow.
 
 123 
 
 Many the canker-worm's keen tooth shall gripe, 
 Or choke with tangled web : and many rue 
 The blight of insects black : but few ! oh few ! 
 
 Shall live to blush in autumn ruddy ripe. 
 
 Go tell the poet this : — he '11 tell thee straight 
 
 Of other blossoms subject to like fate.
 
 124 
 
 SONNET 
 
 On risitiny Cnlloileii Moor in 18:57. 
 
 'T was summer noon. The sun unclouded sjjone 
 And dung- o'er earth and sea his genial rays ; 
 Nature seemed worshipping in silent praise. 
 No sounds were heard, save wild l)eeh' murniurinj 
 
 droue, 
 And voice ol' gentle \> inds, in soil low tone 
 rioatiu"- across the heath, like nKiurnlul lavs 
 In memory of the men ol" other da vs, 
 M'lio lira\(lv foiiuht ami died in time ImiL;- none.
 
 125 
 
 Greeu spots there were, marking' the waniois' graves, 
 Where grass grew kindly. Side by side they lay — 
 Foeman and friend ; for dark oblivion's waves 
 Had swept all traces of their feud away. 
 Trav'ller ! what lesson spoke that scene to thee ? 
 — Go— live with all in peace and amity. 
 
 JoH^f Keith Sjm. 
 Leith. 
 
 Ff
 
 126 
 
 THE REFTGEE. 
 
 A FACT. 
 
 Who lias not known bright noontide's hour o'crcast, 
 Whilst bursting clouds mlbnl darkening- as thoy past^ 
 And seemed amidst a> ild thunder's deafening roar 
 A \vbchning flooil in idle rage to pour ? 
 But soon tired nature finds a peaceful calm, 
 And frcshl V sinib^s brntath its healing balm, 
 While the soft stillness of the evening hour 
 Eall*!, as in love, around each tender floMer;
 
 127 
 
 And one fair star, jjlistciiiiig in lustre l)rig'lit, 
 More lovely seems amid surrounding- night ! 
 
 'T is thus in life, when hope and fortune smile, 
 And with g-aj dreams deluded man beguile. 
 That sorrow found in pain, neglect, and woe, 
 Severely teach him her rough path to know ; 
 But though her voice austere and harsh may sound, 
 And in her lessons anguish deep be found, 
 Although a dark and gloomy veil she flings 
 O'er the gay toys to which he fondly clings, 
 Yet for the joys which wake tumultuous thought, 
 A calm resigned spirit she hath taught ;
 
 128 
 
 Wljilc higliej hopes aiitl bilyhter views appear 
 Beyond the valevhich bouuJs Lis prospect here. 
 Child of the work! ! would^t thou these truths deny, 
 Here read a story that their test may try ! 
 
 Rank, martial fame, and fortune, were his own, 
 And Henry stood near Gallia's brilliant throne ; 
 He followed, too, the monarch's hasty flight. 
 Who i)roved a traitor to his subjects' right. 
 Ko courtier train tlie exiled king' maintains, 
 But Henry still his loyal heart retains ; 
 1 irmly resolved with Charles to stand or fall. 
 He vows obedience to the monarch's call.
 
 129 
 
 The liiiul whose daily tuil no respite knows, 
 To Mhom alone the sabbath yields repose, 
 His eartlily lot is blest beyond compare 
 ^VItlJ iliat «liich Henry now perforce must bear : 
 The hig-hbred courtier, ami the soldier born, 
 Must sometimes now submit to Morldly scorn ; 
 The teacher's task must now those hours employ. 
 Which he was wont to spend in festive joy. 
 His station, merits, and himself, unkiioM n. 
 With all of pomp and idle glitter flown, 
 A mean subsistence he can barely earn 
 By all those arts he finds it hard to learn ; 
 
 G iS
 
 130 
 
 There is for liiiii no friend's ait]M<>\ ii)y ev. 
 To mark the eflorts made witlimii a sijjh, 
 For him no sister, wife, or motlier's eare, 
 Shall aug'ht of comfort in his home jireparr. 
 Home ! where the peasant looks for cheering rest, 
 And often feels, and is, supremely blest, 
 To him no joy or hope can e'er in)j)art ; 
 Scenes where no cloud his sun of joy o'ercast! 
 When the rude shocks of life were all untried, 
 And hojie her gayest smiles had ne'er denied. 
 But no>v no sister o'er him fondly bends, 
 For liini no mo(hrr'«; prayrr to heaven ascends,
 
 131 
 
 No «;Uclifiil v\e rests on liiiii while he sleeps, 
 Or tender iiinse her nightly vigils keeps; 
 The plaint siipjircssM, the scarcely stiHed groan, 
 Unmarked by all, are all alike unknown! 
 But, more than pain or fever's torturing power, 
 He dreads delay in death's approaching- hour. 
 A short delay his means may scarce sustain. 
 And to increase them every art is vain. 
 He then a mean and meaner dwelling lound, 
 By justice, truth, and sense of honour, bound. 
 His last resource is now a lonely street, 
 Where the most wretched outcast mnv retreat;
 
 i.i'2 
 
 Aiid prostrate there with sense, but life not, fleil, 
 The stony pavement pillowing his heail ; 
 A busj' crowd the unconscious Tlcnvy bore, 
 And g'ained admittance at tlic alms-lioiise door. 
 With sick and dying paupers he is laid 
 And kiudlj' effort to revive him made, 
 For with returning- life they little deemed 
 He, ^vho forlorn and thus deserted seemed, 
 Must, with the sense they laboured to restoie, 
 Awake to ag'ony unknown before. 
 Yet so it was---nor tongue nor verse could say 
 What were his tortures on this dreadful day.
 
 133 
 
 He viewed that scene of wliicli lie formed a part, 
 Aud felt a thrill of horror seize his heart ; 
 One look sufficed, and then his eyelids close, 
 As if in death they sought their last repose ; 
 Yet, when a gentle voice, in accents clear, 
 With kind enquiry drew approaching near, 
 Across his pallid cheek a burning blush 
 Seemed, like the lifeblood, from his heart to rush, 
 Whilst on his marble brow stood drops of dew. 
 Such as denote the sufferer's hours are few. 
 But Henry cannot long those tones resist ^ 
 Or in that silence long with her persist, 
 
 H h
 
 Lit 
 
 V\'hy, unicili.uiud l>_v mean and stl/i.h fear, 
 iliicugli holy charity and lo\c, is here. 
 Lodjjing^ more meet is found at lier request, 
 Where undisturbed the dying' man niiiy rest, 
 And all that can afl'ord his sufTerings ease. 
 Or his refined and sickly fancy please, 
 Tlicsc, with a nurse's watchful care td tend. 
 Arc soon supplied hint In his penile friend. 
 But, more than all, 't is licrs the dearer part 
 T(i pour a halm into that bleeding heart, 
 And shew him, wliibsl his hopes are taught to rise, 
 How God, ill love, his <ljildren niny chastise;
 
 i;55 
 
 And a:, (he iuoin iijtiin tlic sable niyht 
 
 Poms llic soft nidiauce of her silver light, 
 
 And casts a heavenly fringe of lucid dye 
 
 Rtunul the (laik clouds which presage storms are nigh, 
 
 So docs a lay divine of sacred power 
 
 Break through the darkness of that suffering hour, 
 
 So d<!cs it shetl a bright effulgent gleam, 
 
 Which gently falls upon the doubled stream. 
 
 Whilst failh in whispers tells of worlds above, 
 
 Where cloudless li^ht shines fculb in endless love. 
 
 The billerucss and sting of death arc past ! 
 
 He feels the Almighty arm around bim cast :
 
 13{> 
 
 And as a cljild iipoii tlie inotlici's Lieast^ 
 lis little sovroM'5 o'er, will sink to rest, 
 So iu the consciousness that God is iiigli, 
 He softly breathes his last and parting sigh ! 
 
 A. L. 
 
 The Grauffe, Gaieacre.
 
 A F E \V 
 
 POETICAL RE ^r A INS 
 
 OF THE LATE 
 
 JOHN HIRST, 
 
 I 1
 
 139 
 
 LOVE. 
 
 Written in 1828 
 
 Oh ! Love is like the moniiu''' beam. 
 That gilds (he siuface of (he s(reatn, 
 
 Or dauccs on (he river, 
 Cheered bv i(s influence, awliile 
 The streamlrt uears a pl;iyfiil smile — 
 Now— -now '( is ooup (o|- ever.
 
 110 
 
 Thus Love, ^vitll blissful visions rife, 
 Sheds on this chequei'd scene of life 
 
 Its joy diffusing" ray. 
 Our bosoms feel its pleasing power 
 For one short-lived — though happy— liour- 
 
 And then 'tis gone for aye.
 
 141 
 
 THE NORTHERN FAIRIES. 
 
 Awaj — away-- - 
 The winter is coming in dazzling- white, 
 Then why should there linger one roving" sprite ? 
 
 Let us away, 
 And shoot o'er the sky on the nortliern light. 
 
 Of the j)ure ice 
 We '11 build us a home, and the sparkling snow 
 Shall ring to our footsteps, as round we go, 
 
 Dancing it nice, 
 When none that are mortal our freaks can know. 
 
 K k
 
 142 
 
 Such fun — such fun — 
 To climb on the back of tlic sleeping- bear, 
 To scratch his nose, and to tickle his car, 
 
 And see him run 
 To the cold cold waters to drown his fear. 
 
 Wc '11 close the spout 
 Of tiic ugly whale ; when the unicorn 
 From the wave is peeping, wc '11 seize his horn, 
 
 And as about 
 He lazily tumbles, wc '11 laugh in scom.
 
 14; J 
 
 The E.sqiiim;ui\ 
 Astoiuidcd isliall be, «lien he views liis boat 
 From the iecl)eig' loosed, where it used to float, 
 
 And 'gainst the flaw 
 Conveyed bj some hand which he knovvelh not. 
 
 Away — avvaj'. 
 The winter is coming in robes of white, 
 Then why should there linger one roving sprite ? 
 
 Let us away, 
 
 And ride on the glance of the uorihcin liqhi.
 
 144 
 
 THE EVENING STAR. 
 
 Star of the twilight hour, how sweetly thou 
 Art shilling o'er us 'mid the fading light, 
 
 A gem of beauty on the Evening's brow, 
 
 Where others soon will rise, but none so bright ! 
 
 How many a chord that binds us to the j)ast 
 Thou stiik'st within us, O thou lonely star I 
 
 As o'er the sky thy ticnibling la}- is cast, 
 
 With scarce a breath the stillness deep to mar!
 
 145 
 
 How oft when i,''azing' on thee seem I ])laee(l 
 Af^ain beneath the roof of early years, 
 
 When g'rief as yet no furrowed lines ha<l traced 
 Across my brow, nor damped my check with tears. 
 
 And then would hope her g-littering fancies build, 
 Nor think of heart-bound friends — cold- -sc.Ulcred— 
 dead, — 
 
 But all the future with a nia<;'ic j^ibi, 
 
 And all the path of life with flowerets spread. 
 
 And now it may be that a nameless one 
 Is seated pensive 'raid the fragrrant flowers 
 
 Ll
 
 HG 
 
 That cluster roiiiul her window, and alonc 
 Is musing also on departed hours : 
 
 And clings with fondness to love's pleasing dream, 
 And thinks of those whom fate has severed far, 
 
 And softly sighs when gazing on thy beam, 
 
 Thou meeting-place of hearts — thou Evening Start
 
 147 
 
 THE WOODS. 
 
 Mornimi.-- All unfi)iishc<l Poem, 
 
 I love the woods — when tlic moni is up, 
 
 And the lark's blithe strains arc ringing, 
 And dews lie deep in the wild Hov\ cr's cuj), 
 
 And sparkle where boughs are swinging ; 
 When creatures of life, in gambols wild, 
 
 O'er the rustling grass are bounding, 
 And tones like those of a joyous child 
 
 Through the earth and sky are sounding ;
 
 148 
 
 TJioy seem to speak o( llie season briglit 
 When hopes are high, and the heart beats liglii, 
 And the world seen faint and distant, then 
 Wears charms it never will wear ag-ain, 
 For the hand is yet unstretched to elasp 
 The joys that flee from the anxious g'rasp, 
 And mirth and gladness our hours adorn, 
 
 Like the woods- -tlic glittering woods -at morn. 
 
 How still tlir woods! when the noontide heat
 
 UJ> 
 
 THE DEAR ONE. 
 
 Oil, blight is the glance of the sunlit stream, 
 In its course of langliler llo\^ing•, 
 
 While its rippling- waves in the fitful gleam 
 Of the morning- hour Arc glowing- ; 
 
 But blighter than glow on stream or sky. 
 
 Is the soul-felt glance of a dear one's eye. 
 
 'Tis sweet to list, 'mid the woodlands g-reen, 
 When the mavis and merle are singing-, 
 
 M m
 
 150 
 
 Aud blithe is the blackbird's soiiif at e'en 
 
 Through the greenwood loudlj riiigin<f, 
 But the dulcet tone of a dear one's voice 
 Resembles a song of paradise. 
 
 With a music and sweetness all its own 
 From her lip of beauty breathing, 
 
 It comes with a rich— with a thrilling tone, 
 The soul wilii a charm enwrcathing ; — 
 
 Oh, her dulcet voice, and her glancing rye 
 
 To mc arc more than heavenly. 
 1829.
 
 151 
 
 I'liE W LSH. 
 
 Since last \vc ])ailcil, ul'i 1 'vc tliuiiglit 
 On happ_y hours that quickly flew 
 
 In thy sweet presence, which 1 sought 
 That on my path thy smile might strew 
 
 Those pleasing" flowers we stoop to glean, 
 
 With joy, amid life's troubled scene. 
 
 I know 't is Grace and Duty's call, 
 That I adore supremely Him, 
 
 Before whose throne the myriads fall 
 Of sinless- -spotless Seraphim,
 
 lo2 
 
 lu holy wonder at liis ways, 
 Redeeming- Lovt- tlieii highest praise : 
 
 And oft in jtrayer I seek that He 
 May slied his Sj)irit o'er my heart, 
 
 And lead me in humility 
 
 To taste tlie good his gifts impart. 
 
 Meekly resigned in word and thouglit 
 
 \\'lien he denies a bounty souglit. 
 
 Yet fondly do I trust, that MJiile 
 His love directs nie in my path, 
 
 I may not want thy g'cntlc smile, 
 And all the charm thy kindness hath
 
 153 
 
 To liush the stoiin — to raise a calm — 
 And o'er the bitter pour a lialm. 
 
 Oh ! may our eyes be heavenward cast, 
 
 Oh ! may our hopes be raised and pure, 
 That wc may find our journey past 
 
 In faith of endless joys secure, 
 'Till, " ith united hearts, our song- 
 Is mingling « ilh a Holy throng. 
 
 N n
 
 154 
 
 THE CONVINCED AND RETURNING SINNER. 
 
 Oil, what a grov'lling spirit, Lord '. 
 
 How cleaves it to the dust ! 
 I cannot pray, nor read thy word, 
 
 Nor place in thee my trust. 
 
 I feci a sinful world around, 
 
 A sinful woild within ; 
 An evil heart wherein arc found 
 
 The seeds of every sin.
 
 155 
 
 Less than the least of all I am — 
 My crimes to mountains grovvn-- 
 
 HoAv wort])less then — how vile to come 
 Witli homage to thy throne. 
 
 Yet, Lord, unto my soul dispense 
 The blessings of that Stream, 
 
 Whieh flows the guilty ones to clcansc- 
 The bondag'ed to redeem. 
 
 I sec it is thy gracious arm 
 Has been revealed to me,
 
 156 
 
 To strip this world of all its charm, 
 Tliat I might come to thee. 
 
 Assist me now, thine own good hour 
 
 Tn hunihle hope to wait, 
 And trusting' in thy love and power 
 
 To stay at mercy's gate.
 
 157 
 
 THE WINTER NIGHTS. 
 
 I love the spiiug-, the g-eutle s))ring-, 
 
 I love the summer gay, 
 And ])leasures mild does autumn biing, 
 
 With evening- fading grey ; 
 But none so bright as winter niulit : 
 
 The winter nights for me. 
 
 The winter nights-— when friends arc met 
 
 In parlour lighted up, 
 And fair hands have before us set 
 
 The social tca-fillod cup,
 
 158 
 
 While many a word of" kindness heard 
 Gives proof of" welcome free. 
 
 'T is not the passing- flash of mirfh 
 That gladdens then the scene, 
 
 Far steadier feelings now have birth, 
 We speak of what has been, 
 
 Of seasons past when hope had cast 
 
 Aioiind us divanis of glee. 
 
 We speak of pranks of early years, 
 
 The changes lifetime hath, 
 How stranjjely mingled joys and tears 
 Have been upon our path ;
 
 l.jf) 
 
 Oh, wliat delights have winter iiiyhts — 
 The winter nig-hts for me. 
 
 The winter nig-hts- -on them I h»vc 
 
 To wander on the Hill, 
 When clouds have left the sky above, 
 
 And all around is still. 
 While moonlight gleam with quiv'ring l)cani 
 Shines through the leatless tree. 
 
 ilow sweet the thoughts to raise afar 
 
 From earth ; let fancy roam — 
 And paint each little trembling star, 
 That looks from heaven's high dome,
 
 160 
 
 A place of rest for spirits blest — 
 A home of ecstacy. 
 
 Then g^aziug on the city spread 
 Tn chequered gloom below, 
 
 I think on many a scene, m here red 
 These thousand windows glow, 
 
 How pain and care are dwcUinu;- tliere, 
 
 And youtli and gaiety. 
 
 I think of rooms w here pleasures reign 
 
 And beauly glides along, 
 ^\ here t-ladness summons all her (raiu. 
 
 And music all her ^ong.
 
 IGI 
 
 In thought I joiu where these combiue 
 Their cheering revehy. 
 
 Then wish that placed beside the couch, 
 Where groaning ones arc laid, 
 
 I had an angel's healing touch. 
 To give the suff'rors aid ; 
 
 But soon I hush the fruitless wish, 
 
 And weep in sympathy. 
 
 Again I say, I love each form 
 That marks our changing years, 
 
 But winter, though it tome with storm, 
 By far tlie best appears : — 
 
 For winter nights bring strange delights—- 
 
 The wiuter niLrhls for me !
 
 162 
 
 TROM THE GREEK. 
 
 The Muses left the land of light, 
 
 O'er this dull earth to range, 
 Seeking a fane on which the flight 
 
 Of Time could make no change. 
 They saw that seasons hurry on, 
 
 To cvu^h what man may rear, 
 A Poet's soul they found alone 
 
 A lasting tinndc here.
 
 103 
 
 HOME OF MY YOUTH. 
 
 Home of my youth ! I seem again 
 To view thy rude and whited wall, 
 
 The honey-flowers around the pane, 
 The turf-made seat at evening- fail,— - 
 
 The grassy plot we sported on, 
 
 The two tall trees hchind that gre\v. 
 
 The puny boasting when a stone 
 
 Above their topmost boughs wc threw ;
 
 164 
 
 Again I see the stream that flows 
 
 Now limpid through the sylvan glado, 
 
 And now its dashing waters throws 
 
 O'er chasm and cleft that time hath made, 
 
 While IVom its bed the brown rock heaves, 
 And shrubs and wild flowers spread around, 
 
 And singing birds amid (he leaves 
 
 Add music to the waters' sound ; 
 
 I see the hill with cloudy crest, 
 
 Where storm and calm alternate ducll, 
 
 And nurse upon its aged breast 
 
 The bright i)ut hardy heatherl)ell,—
 
 1G5 
 
 Where I, a little hoy, would toss 
 
 My caj) to catch the butterfly, 
 Or listless lie upon the luoss 
 
 And hear the bee go liuniitiiny by. — 
 
 There rests a charm on early days, 
 A charm around our early home, 
 
 Tiiat after years can ne'er erase, 
 Tliat deepens as we further roinn, — 
 
 A charm so yreat that oft ue deem 
 
 We need but seek the spot ag-aiii, 
 
 To wake anew youth's hnppy dream 
 
 And all the thdu^^lils wr clicrir-hcd thru.— 
 
 o q
 
 166 
 
 Ami tliiis I liad iiiiuyiiud louj^-, 
 
 Until ;it last one siniinicr morn 
 The well known scenes I paced among-, 
 
 The hill, the woods, the spreadini;- thorn ; 
 
 The sun was on the silver pool, 
 
 The little ash I jdanted there 
 Was stately now and beautiiul, 
 
 And all was bright and green and fair ; — 
 
 Rill riidr and narrow seemed, alas! 
 
 AN'alls dial once echoed wilii our din, 
 Strange forms I saw upon the grass, 
 
 Strany-c voices heard in strife within. —
 
 167 
 
 I turned awaj, and sick at licait 
 
 I felt as if on earth alone ; 
 What could the gloomy change impart ? 
 
 I---I was changed, and friends were gone. 
 
 I turned away, yet still I muse 
 With pleasure on my early days. 
 
 And still docs w ayward fancy choose , 
 Her almost childish dreams to raise.
 
 168 
 
 THE SOUTH WIND. 
 
 I love thy breath, thou traverser 
 Of spacious earth and boundless air, 
 Thy flight increasing, speeding free 
 O'er lake and islet, land and sea, 
 It seems as if the glowing- south 
 
 Were opening up its treasures now, 
 And warmth and odours from its mouth 
 
 Were gently bearing to my brow. 
 For tlion hast come from gorgeous bowers, 
 
 'Midst bursting of a thousand flowers,
 
 IG9 
 
 Which freely all their sweets hestow, 
 Then strew with buds the turf below,- 
 Aiul rustled where the forest weaves 
 Its canopy of fruits and leaves, 
 And proudly rears the fow'ring palm 
 Its head amid the sunny calm , — 
 The desert too thy wings have past, 
 The desert still, and drear, and vast, 
 (For never o'er that lonely \vild 
 The joyous bloom of nature smiled), 
 And swept across the caravan, 
 The panting beast, the toiling man, 
 
 R r
 
 170 
 
 Who felt tlij breath so rich a boon 
 He murniureil thou vvert gone so soon ; — 
 And as the lang-iiid sailor lay 
 Eccalmed beneath the tropic's raj, 
 With joy he felt the rising- gale, 
 With joy lie lociscd and spread tlie sail. 
 And tlioiight tlic best of blessings come, 
 Tbc breeze to \» aft his vessel h(tme. 
 And tbou Jiast sped o'er vine-clad hill, 
 
 'J'br clus-tcrs binding on its brow, 
 And rippUd o'er the waters still 
 
 Thai '<h(ltor<'d in tbr fba^sni l)rln\v ;
 
 171 
 
 And thou ail heie — and to mv cheek, 
 It seems as if thy flight did speak, 
 Like breathing' of a happj" dream, 
 Of all the lands where wonders teem, 
 For thou art here, and thou art gone. 
 Thy progress urging on and on, 
 Perchance within the distant north 
 Some brother wind to summon forth. 
 Till gaining- fury in thy course 
 O'er mountain bleak and billows hoarse, 
 With spray and foam thou wilt assail 
 The slumb'ring rolling- lazy whale,
 
 IT-J 
 
 Or (caring ilowu tlic slialtered ice, 
 Where frowns ilie sia foniicd })recij)icc, 
 Wilt startling rouse the groM ling' bear, 
 Anil drive him from his snowy lair. 
 
 And shalt thou thence spring hack to earth 
 Where first thou fragrant hadst thy hirtli, 
 Or shall thy blasts in fury ride 
 Confused amid the trackless void :' 
 None — none — can tell thou trackless thing, 
 The free in course-- the fleet in wing. 
 
 '1 
 
 1i
 
 THE LIBRARY 
 
 ggaiVBESITY OF CALlFOSmx^ 
 LOS ANGSLSS
 
 p 
 
 UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LIBRARY 
 
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 This book is DUE on the last date stamped below. 
 
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