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When thou art gone away, should evil men
Be thy companions, think of me, my Son,
And of this moment; hither turn thy thoughts, !
And God will strengthen thee: amid all fear
And all temptation, Luke, I pray that thou
May'st bear in mind the life thy Fathers lived,
Who, being innocent, did for that cause
Bestir them in good deeds. Now, fare thee well,
When thou return'st, thou in this place wilt see
A work which is not here: a covenant
'Twill be between us; but, whatever fate
Befal thee, I shall love thee to the last,
And bear thy memory with me to the grave."

Hadst been brought up upon thy Father's knees.
But we were playmates, Luke: among these hills,
As well thou knowest, in us the old and young
Have played together, nor with me didst thou
Lack any pleasure which a boy can know."
Luke had a manly heart; but at these words
He sobbed aloud. The old Man grasped his hand,
And said, “Nay, do not take it so I see
That these are things of which I need not speak.
-Even to the utmost I have been to thee
A kind and a good Father: and herein
I but repay a gift which I myself
Received at others' hands; for, though now old
Beyond the common life of man, I still
Remember them who loved me in my youth.
Both of them sleep together: here they lived,
As all their Forefathers had done; and when
At length their time was come, they were not loth
To give their bodies to the family mould.
I wished that thou shouldst live the life they lived:
But, 'tis a long time to look back, my Son,
And see so little gain from threescore years.
These fields were burthened when they came to me;
Till I was forty years of age, not more
Than half of my inheritance was mine.
I toiled and toiled; God blessed me in my work,
And till these three weeks past the land was free.
-It looks as if it never could endure
Another Master. Heaven forgive me, Luke,
If I judge ill for thee, but it seems good
That thou should'st go."

At this the old Man paused;
Then, pointing to the stones near which they stood,
Thus, after a short silence, he resumed : :
“ This was a work for us; and now, my Son,
It is a work for me. But, lay one stone-
Here, lay it for me, Luke, with thine own hands.
Nay, Boy, be of good hope ;--we both may live
To see a better day. At eighty-four
I still am strong and hale ;do thou thy part;
I will do mine.-I will begin again
With many tasks that were resigned to thee :
Up to the heights, and in among the storms,
Will I without thee go again, and do
All works which I was wont to do alone,
Before I knew thy face.—Heaven bless thee, Boy!
Thy heart these two weeks has been beating fast
With many hopes; it should be so-yes-yes-
I knew that thou could'st never have a wish
To leave me, Luke: thou hast been bound to me
Only by links of love: when thou art gone,
What will be left to us !—But, I forget
My purposes. Lay now the corner-stone,
As I requested; and hereafter, Luke,

The Shepherd ended here; and Luke stooped

down, And, as his Father had requested, laid The first stone of the Sheep-fold. At the sight The old Man's grief broke from him; to his heart He pressed his Son, he kissed him and wept; And to the house together they returned. --Hushed was that House in peace, or seeming

peace, Ere the night fell :-with morrow's dawn the Boy Began his journey, and when he had reached The public way, he put on a bold face; And all the neighbours, as he passed their doors, Came forth with wishes and with farewell prayers That followed him till he was out of sight.

A good report did from their Kinsman come, Of Luke and his well-doing : and the Boy Wrote loving letters, full of wondrous news, Which, as the Housewife phrased it, were throughou

The prettiest letters that were ever seen.' Both parents read them with rejoicing hearts. So, many months passed on: and once again The Shepherd went about his daily work With confident and cheerful thoughts ; and non Sometimes when he could find a leisure hour He to that valley took his way, and there Wrought at the Sheep-fold. Meantime Luke began To slacken in his duty; and, at length, He in the dissolute city gave himself To evil courses: ignominy and shame Fell on him, so that he was driven at last To seek a hiding-place beyond the seas.

There is a comfort in the strength of love 'Twill make a thing endurable, which else Would overset the brain, or break the heart: I have conversed with more than one who well Remember the old Man, and what he was Years after he had heard this heavy news.

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

The air or laugh upon a precipice;
Was sold, and went into a stranger's hand.
The Cottage which was named the EVENING STAR

No, passing through strange sufferings toward the

tomb, Is gone—the ploughshare has been through the

She smiles as if a martyr's crown were won: ground 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


With outspread arms and fallen upon her knees That grew beside their door; and the remains 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 1800.

Her own angelic glory seems begun.



XXXIV. THE ARMENIAN LADY'S LOVE. (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 acknowledge ment, however unworthy, of pleasure and instruction derived from his numerous and valuable writings, illustrative of the piety and chivalry of the olden time.)

How beautiful when up a lofty height
Honour ascends among the humblest poor,
And feeling sinks as deep! See there the door
Of One, a Widow, left beneath a weight
Of blameless debt. On evil Fortune's spite
She wasted no complaint, but strove to make
A just repayment, both for conscience-sake
And that herself and hers should stand upright
in the world's eye. Her work when daylight failed
Paused not, and through the depth of night she kept
such earnest vigils, that belief prevailed
Vith some, the noble Creature never slept ;
lut, one by one, the hand of death assailed
(er children from her inmost heart bewept.

You have heard a Spanish Lady .

How she wooed an English man ;!
Hear now of a fair Armenian,

Daughter of the proud Soldàn;
How she loved a Christian Slave, and told her pain
By word, look, deed, with hope that he might love


* See, in Percy's Reliques, that fine old ballad, “The Spanish Lady's Love;" from which Poem the form of stanza, as suitable to dialogue, is adopted.


« 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 your sake !"

the heart !”

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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."


“ Princess, at this burst of goodness,

My long-frozen heart grows warm !” " Yet you make all courage fruitless,

Me to save from chance of harm:
Leading such companion I that gilded dome,
Yon minarets, would gladly leave for his worst


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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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;

On the ground the weeping Countess
Breathless questions followed fast,

Knelt, and kissed the Stranger's hand;
Years contracting to a moment,

Act of soul-devoted homage,
Each word greedier than the last;

Pledge of an eternal band :
“ Hie thee to the Countess, friend! return with | Nor did aught of future days that kiss belie,

Which, with a generous shout, the crowd did ratify.
And of this Stranger speak by whom her lord was

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 place.


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Say not you love the delicate treat,
Mute memento of that union

But like it, enjoy it, and thankfully eat.
In a Saxon church survives,
Where a cross-legged Knight lies sculptured |

Long may you love your pensioner mouse,
As between two wedded Wives -

Though one of a tribe that torment the house:
Figures with armorial signs of race and birth, Nor dislike for her cruel sport the cat,
And the vain rank the pilgrims bore while yet on 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.

I would not circumscribe your love :

It may soar with the eagle and brood with the dove, (BY MY SISTER.)

May pierce the earth with the patient mole,
THERE 's more in words than I can teach : Or track the hedgehog to his hole.
Yet listen, Child ! I would not preach;

Loving and liking are the solace of life,
But only give some plain directions

Rock the cradle of joy, sinooth the death-bed of To guide your speech and your affections.

strife. Say not you love a roasted fowl,

You love your father and your mother, But you may love a screaming owl,

Your grown-up and your baby brother; And, if you can, the unwieldy toad

You love your sister, and your friends, That crawls from his secure abode

And countless blessings which God sends : Within the mossy garden wall

And while these right affections play, When evening dews begin to fall.

You live each moment of your day; Oh mark the beauty of his eye:

They lead you on to full content, What wonders in that circle lie!

And likings fresh and innocent, So clear, so bright, our fathers said

That store the mind, the memory feed, He wears a jewel in his head!

And prompt to many a gentle deed : And when, upon some showery day,

But likings come, and pass away; Into a path or public way

'Tis love that remains till our latest day : A frog leaps out from bordering grass,

Our heavenward guide is holy love,
Startling the timid as they pass,

And will be our bliss with saints above.
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,

“High bliss is only for a higher state,' Fit pattern for a human creature,

But, surely, if severe afflictions borne Glancing amid the water bright,

With patience merit the reward of peace, And sending upward sparkling light.

Peace ye deserve; and may the solid good,

Sought by a wise though late exchange, and here Nor blush if o'er your heart be stealing

With bounteous hand beneath a cottage-roof A love for things that have no feeling:

To you accorded, never be withdrawn, The spring's first rose by you espied,

Nor for the world's best promises renounced. May fill your breast with joyful pride;

Most soothing was it for a welcome Friend, And you may love the strawberry-flower,

Fresh from the crowded city, to behold And love the strawberry in its bower;

That lonely union, privacy so deep, But when the fruit, so often praised

Such calm employments, such entire content. For beauty, to your lip is raised,

So when the rain is over, the storm laid,

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