The small dust-coloured beetle climbs with pain O'er the smooth plantain-leaf, a spacious plain! [conveyed, Thence higher still, by countless steps He gains the summit of a shivering blade, And flirts his filmy wings, and looks around, Exulting in his distance from the ground. The tender speckled moth here dancing seen, The vaulting grasshopper of glossy green, Still louder breathes, and in the face of day her way. Close to his eyes his hat he instant bends, And forms a friendly telescope, that lends Just aid enough to dull the glaring light, And place the wandering bird before his sight; Yet oft beneath a cloud she sweeps along, Lost for awhile, yet pours her varied song. He views the spot, and as the cloud moves by, Again she stretches up the clear blue sky; Her form, her motion, undistinguished quite, [to light: Save when she wheels direct from shade The fluttering songstress a mere speck became, Like fancy's floating bubbles in a dream. He sees her yet, but yielding to repose, Unwittingly his jaded eyelids close. -:0: SAMUEL ROGERS. 1762-1855 THE OLD HOME. TWILIGHT'S Soft dews steal o'er the village green, With magic tints to harmonize the scene; Stilled is the hum that thro' the hamlet broke, When round the ruins of their ancient oak The peasants flocked to hear the minstrel play, And games and carols closed the busy day. Her wheel at rest, the matron thrills no more With treasured tales and legendary lore. All, all are fled; nor mirth nor music flows To chase the dreams of innocent repose. All, all are fled; yet still I linger here: What secret charms this silent spot endear! Mark yon old Mansion, frowning through the trees, [breeze. Whose hollow turret woos the whistling That casement, arched with ivy's brownest shade, [conveyed. First to these eyes the light of heaven The mouldering gateway shows the grassgrown court, [sport; Once the calm scene of many a simple When nature pleased, for life itself was new, Andthe heart promised what the fancy drew. See, thro' the fractured pediment revealed, Where moss inlays the rudely sculptured shield, The martin's old hereditary nest. [guest! Long may the ruin spare its hallowed As jars the hinge, what sullen echoes call! Oh, haste, unfold the hospitable hall! That hall where once, in antiquated state The chair of justice held the grave debate. Now stained with dews, with cobwebs darkly hung, Oft has its roof with peals of rapture rung; When round yon ample board, in due degree, We sweetened every meal with social glee; The heart's light laugh pursued the circling jest, And all was sunshine in each little breast. 'Twas here we chased the slipper by the sound, [round; And turned the blindfold hero round and 'Twas here, at eve, we formed our fairy ring, And Fancy fluttered on her wildest wing: Giants and genii claimed each wondering ear, And orphan sorrow drew the ready tear; Oft with the Babes we wandered in the wood, Or viewed the forest feats of Robin Hood; Oft, fancy led, at midnight's fearful hour, With startling steps we scaled the lonely tower, O'er int int innocence to hang and weep, Murdered by ruffian hands when smiling its sleep. As through the garden's desert paths I rove, What fond illusions swarm in every grove! How oft, when purple evening tinged the west, We watched the emmet. to her grainy nest; Welcomed the wild bee home on weary wing, Laden with sweets, the choicest of the spring. [rhyme, How oft inscribed, with Friendship's votive The bark now silvered by the touch of Time; afraid, Soared in the swing, half pleased, and half Thro' sister elms that waved their summer shade; [seat, Or strewed with crumbs yon root-inwoven To lure the redbreast from his lone retreat. The drowsy brood that on her back she Imps, in the barn with mousing owlet bred, From rifled roost at nightly revel fed; Whose dark eyes flashed through locks of [bayed; blackest shade, When in the breeze the distant watch-dog And heroes fled the sibyl's muttered call, Whose elfin prowess scaled the orchard wall. As o'er my palm the silver piece she drew, This truth once known-to bless is to be As in his scrip we dropt our little store, And sighed to think that little was no more, He breathed his prayer, "Long may such goodness live! 'Twas all he gave, 'twas all he had to give. Angels, when Mercy's mandate winged their flight, [sight. Had stopt to dwell with pleasure on the -0 MEMORY. HAIL, Memory, hail! in thy exhaustless And Place and Time are subject to thy Pour round her path a stream of living light, And gild those pure and perfect realms of [blest. rest. Where Virtue triumphs and her sons are THE BOY OF EGREMOND. " "SAY, what remains when Hope is fled?" * * The slid over the river Wharfe. As through the mist he winged his way That narrow place of noise and strife GINEVRA. IF thou shouldst ever come to Modena, ་་ 'Tis of a lady in her earliest youth ;She sits inclining forward as to speak, Her lips half open, and her finger up, As though she said Beware!"-her vest of gold [head to footBroidered with flowers, and clasped from An emerald stone in every golden clasp; And on her brow, fairer than alabaster, A coronet of pearls. But then her face, So lovely, yet so arch, so full of mirth, The overflowings of an innocent heartIt haunts me still, though many a year has fled, Like some wild melody!-Alone it hangs Over a mouldering heirloom, its companion, An oaken chest, half eaten by the worm. She was an only child; from infancy The young Ginevra was his all in life, Great was the joy; but at the bridal feast, When all sat down, the bride was wanting there Nor was she to be found! Her father cried, "'Tis but to make a trial of our love!" And filled his glass to all; but his hand shook, [spread. And soon from guest to guest the panic 'Twas but that instant she had left Fran[still, cesco, Laughing and looking back, and flying Her ivory tooth imprinted on his finger. But now, alas! she was not to be found; Nor from that hour could anything be guessed, seen But that she was not! Weary of his life, Francesco flew to Venice, and forthwith Flung it away in battle with the Turk. Orsini lived; and long might'st thou have [thing, An old man wandering as in quest of someSomething he could not find--he knew not what. [awhile When he was gone, the house remained Silent and tenantless, then went to strangers, Full fifty years were past, and all forgot, When on an idle day, a day of search 'Mid the old lumber in the gallery, That mouldering chest was noticed; and 'twas said [Ginevra, By one as young, as thoughtless, as "Why not remove it from its lurkingplace?" [way 'Twas done as soon as said; but on the It burst-it fell; and lo! a skeleton; And here and there a pearl,an emerald stone, A golden clasp, clasping a shred of gold: All else had perished-save a nuptial ring, And a small seal, her mother's legacy, Engraven with a name, the name of bothGINEVRA."There then had she found a grave! [self, Within that chest had she concealed herFluttering with joy, the happiest of the happy; [there, When a spring-lock, that lay in ambush Fastened her down for ever! No cloud, no relic of the sunken day Distinguishes the west, no long thin slip Of sullen light, no obscure trembling hues. Come, we will rest on this old mossy bridge! You see the glimmer of the stream beneath, But hear no murmuing: it flows silently O'er its soft bed of verdure. All is still; A balmy night! and though the stars be dim, Yet let us think upon the vernal showers That gladden the green earth, and we shall find A pleasure in the dimness of the stars. And hark! the Nightingale begins its song, "Most musical, most melancholy" bird! A melancholy bird? Oh, idle thought! In nature there is nothing melancholy. But some night-wandering man, whose heart was pierced With the remembrance of a grievous wrong, Or slow distemper, or neglected love (And so, poor wretch! filled all things with himself, [tale And made all gentle sounds tell back the |