You were a MOTHER! at your bosom fed The Babes that loved you. You with laughing eye Each twilight thought, each nascent feeling read, Which you yourself created. O delight! A second time to be a Mother Without the Mother's bitter groans : Another thought and yet another, By touch, or taste, by looks, or tones, O'er the growing sense to roll, The Mother of your Infant's soul ! The ANGEL of the Earth, who while he guides Blest intuitions and communions fleet, With living Nature in her joys and woes! O beautiful! O Nature's Child! Twas thence you hail'd the Platform wild, Where once the Austrian fell Beneath the shaft of TELL! O Lady, nurs'd in pomp and pleasure, ESTEESE To the NIGHTINGALE. By GEORGE DYER: Sweet Songstress, that unseen, unknown,. Why dost thou wander still alone, Oft have I linger'd in the grove, To hear thy melting, soothing song; To me it seem'd a song of love, Nor could I think the darkness long. "But oh! sweet bird, why shun the light? Why still repeat the lonesome lay? "Those notes, that smooth the brow of night, 66 Might kindle bright the face of day." Thus have I cried, but cried in vain, But though she shuns my wistful sight, OMAR at the TOMB of AZZA. By GEORGE GOODWIN. Roses! alas in vain ye bloom! In vain your rubied blossoms glow, Azza is dead! and o'er her tomb, The night-wind glides in murmurs low. Almond in vain thy drops of light, For me in vain the ambrosial showers, In vain for me the Tamarinds wave, Their shadowy branches o'er yon hill; Azza is dead! and from her grave, A thousand flowers fresh sweets distil. |