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When thou art gone away, should evil men
Hadst been brought up upon thy Father's knees.
At this the old Man paused;
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
Before her eyes, last child of many gone-
His very feet bright as the dazzling snow
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
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;
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.
THE WIDOW ON WINDERMERE SIDE.
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
You have heard a Spanish Lady .
How she wooed an English man ;!
Daughter of the proud Soldàn;
* 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 !”
“ Wedded love with loyal Christians, “ Lady! dread the wish, nor venture
Lady, is a mystery rare;
Body, heart, and soul in union,
Make one being of a pair.”
“ 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,
Flower of an unchristian sod!
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:
Less impassioned words might tell
Tears not wanting, nor a knell
Through a haze of human nature,
Glorified by heavenly light,
On that overpowering sight,
On the ground the weeping Countess
Knelt, and kissed the Stranger's hand;
Act of soul-devoted homage,
Pledge of an eternal band :
Which, with a generous shout, the crowd did ratify.
Constant to the fair Armenian,
Gentle pleasures round her moved,
Like a tutelary spirit
Reverenced, like a sister, loved.
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.
Say not you love the delicate treat,
But like it, enjoy it, and thankfully eat.
Long may you love your pensioner mouse,
Though one of a tribe that torment the house:
Remember she follows the law of her kind,
And Instinct is neither wayward nor blind.
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,
Loving and liking are the solace of life,
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,
And will be our bliss with saints above.
“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,