Hugely terrific.

But those times are o'er,

And the fond scene can charm mine eyes no more;

For thou art gone, and I am left below,

And each revolve conducts me toward the goal;
Yet all is blank, without one soft relief,
One endless continuity of grief;

And the tired soul, now led to thoughts sublime,
Looks but for rest beyond the bounds of time.

will never want:

Toil on, toil on, ye busy crowds, that pant
For hoards of wealth which ye
And, lost to all but gain, with ease resign
The calms of peace and happiness divine!
Far other cares be mine. Men little crave

In this short journey to the silent grave;

And the poor peasant, bless'd with peace and health,

I

envy more than Croesus with his wealth.

Yet grieve not I, that Fate did not decree

Paternal acres to await on me;

She gave me more; she placed within breast

my

A heart with little pleas'd - with little blest!
I look around me, where, on every side,
Extensive manors spread in wealthy pride;
And could my sight be borne to either zone,
I should not find one foot of land my own.

210

215

220

225

230

But whither do I wander? shall the muse,
For golden baits, her simple theme refuse?
Oh, no! but while the weary spirit greets

The fading scenes of childhood's far-gone sweets,
It catches all the infant's wandering tongue,

And prattles on in desultory song.

235

Obscure the pale stars' visionary light,

And ebon darkness, clad in vapoury wet,
Steals on the welkin in primæval jet.

The

must close. song

Once more my adverse lot

245

Leads me reluctant from this cherish'd spot:

'Again compels to plunge in busy life,

And brave the hateful turbulence of strife.

Scenes of my youth
-ere my unwilling feet
Are turn'd for ever from this lov'd retreat,
Ere on these fields, with plenty cover'd o'er,
My eyes are clos'd to ope on them no more,
Let me ejaculate, to feeling due,

One long, one last affectionate adieu.
Grant that, if ever Providence should please

250

To give me an old age of peace and ease,
Grant that, in these sequester'd shades, my days

255

May wear away in gradual decays;

And oh ye spirits, who unbodied play,

Unseen upon the pinions of the day,

Kind genii of my native fields benign,
Who were **

260

THE FAIR MAID OF CLIFTON.

A new Ballad, in the old style.

THE night it was dark, and the winds were high,
And mournfully waved the wood,

As Bateman met his Margaret
By Trent's majestic flood.

He press'd the maiden to his breast,
And his heart it was rack'd with fear,

For he knew, that again, 'twas a deadly chance
If ever he press'd her there.

"Oh! Margaret, wilt thou bear me true,"

He said, "while I'm far away,

"For to-morrow I go for a foreign land,

"And there I have long to stay."

And the maid she vow'd she would bear him true,

And thereto she plighted her troth;

And she pray'd the fiend might fetch her away
When she forgot her oath.

And the night-owl scream'd, as again she swore,

And the grove it did mournfully moan, And Bateman's heart within him sunk, He thought 'twas his dying groan.

And shortly he went with Clifton, his Lord,
To abide in a foreign land;

And Margaret she forgot her oath,

And she gave to another her hand.

Her husband was rich, but old, and crabb'd,
And oft the false one sigh'd,

And wish'd that ere she broke her vow,
She had broken her heart, and died.

And now return'd, her Bateman came
To demand his betrothed bride;
But soon he learn'd that she had sought

A wealthier lover's side.

And when he heard the dreadful news,

No sound he utter'd more,

But his stiffen'd corse, ere the morn was seen, Hung at his false one's door.

And Margaret, all night, in her bed,

She dreamed hideous dreams;

And oft upon the moaning wind

Were heard her frightful screams.

And when she knew of her lover's death,
On her brow stood the clammy dew,

She thought of her oath, and she thought of her fate,
And she saw that her days were few.

But the Lord he is just, and the guilty alone
Have to fear of his vengeance the lash,

The thunderbolt harms not the innocent head,
While the criminal dies 'neath the flash.

His justice, she knew, would spare her awhile
For the child that she bare in her womb;
But she felt, that when it was borne therefrom
She must instantly go to her tomb.

The hour approach'd, and she view'd it with fear

As the date of her earthly time;

And she tried to pray to Almighty God,

To expiate her crime.

And she begged her relations would come at the day,

And the parson would pray at her side;

And the clerk would sing a penitent hymn,

With all the singers beside.

And she begg'd they would bar the windows so strong,

And put a new lock to the door;

And sprinkle with holy water the house,

And over her chamber floor.