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The Deserted Village.

How often have I paused on every charm,
The sheltered cot and cultivated farm,
The never-failing brook and busy mill,
The decent church that topt the neighbouring hill,
The hawthorn bush, with seats beneath the shade,
For talking age and whispering lovers made!
How often have I blest the coming day,
When toil remitting lent its turn to play,
And all the village train, from labour free,
Led up their sports beneath the spreading tree;
While many a pastime circled in the shade,
The young contending, as the old surveyed ;
And many a gambol frolicked o'er the ground,
And sleights of art and feats of strength went round;
And still as each repeated pleasure tired,
Succeeding sports the mirthful band inspired :
The dancing pair that simply sought renown
By holding out to tire each other down;
The swain mistrustless of his smutted face,
While secret laughter tittered round the place ;
The bashful virgin's sidelong looks of love,
The matron’s glance that would these looks reprove !
These were thy charms, sweet Village; sports like these
With sweet succession taught even toil to please ;
These round thy bowers their cheerful influence shed;
These were thy charms—but all these charms are fled.


Villa Deserta.

Ah! quoties illo cessabam lentus in agro

Miratus placidas culta per arva casas, Et loca qua pistrina sequacibus adstrepit undis,

Mundaque vicinis addita templa jugis, Et frutices lætos, aptasque sedentibus umbras,

Seu senium musset, sive susurret amor. Ah ! quoties grato venerabar pectore lucem,

Cum misso exciperent pensa labore joci, Multaque ruricolæ properarent agmina turbæ,

Ducere sub patula fronde soluta choros. Tum fuit umbrosa quantum certamen arena!

Colludunt juvenes, aspiciuntque senes ; Innumerosque cient vexato in gramine gyros,

Membrorum vegeta vi, celerique manu. Displiceat toties eadem repetita voluptas ?

Inveniet ludos læta caterva novos. Certatim innocuam qui produxere choream,

Ut pedibus simplex gloria parta foret ; Rusticus inspersa fodus fuligine vultum,

Qui movet occultos nescius ipse jocos ; Virginis indictam prodentia lumina flammam,

Quæque oculo mater vix prohibere velit, Hos comites inter, Sedes dilecta, laboris

Dulcibus immisti lene placebat onus ; Hæc tibi tranquillam spirabant undique pacem ;

Hæc tibi-sed notos deseruere locos !

The Palace of Ice.

No forest fell When thou would'st build; no quarry sent its stores To enrich thy walls; but thou didst hew the floods, And make thy marble of the glassy wave. In such a palace Aristæus found Cyrene, when he bore the plaintive tale Of his lost bees to her maternal ear: In such a palace poetry might place The armoury of winter, where his troops, The gloomy clouds, find weapons, arrowy sleet, Skin-piercing volley, blossom-bruising hail. Silently as a dream the fabric rose, No sound of hammer or of saw was there ; Ice upon ice, the well-adjusted parts Were soon conjoined, nor other cement asked Than water interfused to make them one. Lamps gracefully disposed and of all hues Illumined every side ; a watery light Gleamed through the clear transparency, that seemed Another moon new-risen, or meteor fallen From heaven to earth, of lambent flame serene.


Palatium Glaciale.

Non tibi, cum tantas auderes tollere moles,
Submisere trabes silvæ, non hausta metallis
Saxa nec effossæ crevere in monia quadræ :
Ecce, tibi vitrei riguerunt marmore fluctus !
Qualis Aristæum Cyrenæ regia matris
Cepit, apum strages infectaque mella querentem ;
Aut qualem sibi munit Hyems (ita fingere vates
Crediderim) diris ut servet in ædibus arma,
Si poscant sibi tela dari Ventique Nivesque,
Si jaculum glaciale pruiniferasque pharetras.
Surrexit tacite, ceu muta insomnia, moles ;
Non crepitus serræ, sonuit non verbere surdo
Malleus : ipsa super glacies illisa coactam
Firmavit glaciem, (quid enim cæmenta requirat
Molis opus liquidæ ?) numerosaque fluxit in unum;
Lympharumque domus lympharum aspergine crevit.
Lampades introrsum multisque coloribus ignes
Fulgere; transmissæ pallescere lucis imago :
Nempe aliam in terris credas consurgere lunam,
Delapsasque polo stellas atque uvida signa.

C. M.

Robin and Richard.

ROBIN and Richard.

Were two pretty men :
They both lay in bed

Till the clock struck ten ;
Then up starts Robin

And looks at the sky;
*Oh! brother Richard,

The sun's very high !
You go before

With your bottle and bag ;
And I will come after

On little Jack nag.'

Gammer Gurton.

Inscription on an antique Ring.

I'll heare thy voice of melodie

In whispers of the summerre air ;
I'll see the brightnesse of thine eye

In the blue eveninge's shininge starre;
In moonlighte beames thy puritie ;
And look on heavenne, to look on thee!


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