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And sage content, and placid melancholy ;
She loves to gaze upon a crystal river, -
Diaphanous because it travels slowly;
Soft is the music that would charm for ever;
The Aower of sweetest smell is shy and lowly.

MARK the concentred hazels that inclose
Yon old gray Stone, protected from the ray
Of noontide suns:-—and even the beams that play
And glance, while wantonly the rough wind blows,
Are seldom free to touch the moss that grows
Upon that roof, amid embowering gloom,
The very image framing of a Tomb,
In which some ancient Chieftain finds repose
Among the lonely mountains. — Live, ye trees!
And thou, gray Stone, the pensive likeness keep
Of a dark chamber where the Mighty sleep:
For more than Fancy to the influence bends
When solitary Nature condescends
To mimic Time's forlorn humanities.

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DARK and more dark the shades of evening fell; The wished-for point was reached; but at an hour When little could be gained from that rich dower

Of prospect, whereof many thousands tell.
Yet did the glowing west with marvellous power
Salute us; there stood Indian citadel,
Temple of Greece, and minster with its tower
Substantially expressed, — a place for bell
Or clock to toll from! Many a tempting isle,
With groves that never were imagined, lay

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'Mid seas how steadfast! objects all for the eye
Of silent rapture; but we felt the while
We should forget them; they are of the sky,
And from our earthly memory fade away.

-“they are of the sky,

And from our earthly memory fade away."
THOSE words were uttered as in pensive mood
We turned, departing from that solemn sight:
A contrast and reproach to gross delight,
And life's unspiritual pleasures daily wooed !
But now upon this thought I cannot brood;
It is unstable as a dream of night;
Nor will I praise a cloud, however bright,
Disparaging Man's gifts, and proper food.
Grove, isle, with every shape of sky-built dome,
Though clad in colors beautiful and pure,
Find in the heart of man no natural home:
The immortal Mind craves objects that endure:
These cleave to it; from these it cannot roam,
Nor they from it: their fellowship is secure.


SEPTEMBER, 1815. WHILE not a leaf seems faded; while the fields, With ripening harvest prodigally fair, In brightest sunshine bask; this nipping air, Sent from some distant clime where Winter wields His icy scymitar, a foretaste yields Of bitter change, and bids the flowers beware ; And whispers to the silent birds, “Prepare Against the threatening foe your trustiest shields.” For me, who under kindlier laws belong To Nature's tuneful choir, this rustling dry Through leaves yet green, and yon crystalline sky, Announce a season potent to renew, 'Mid frost and snow, the instinctive joys of song, And nobler cares than listless summer knew.

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How clear, how keen, how marvellously bright, The effluence from yon distant mountain's head, Which, strewn with snow smooth as the sky can

shed, Shines like another sun, — on mortal sight Uprisen, as if to check approaching Night, And all her twinkling stars. Who now would


If so he might, yon mountain's glittering head,
Terrestrial, but a surface by the flight
Of sad mortality's earth-sullying wing
Unswept, unstained? Nor shall the aërial Powers
Dissolve that beauty, destined to endure,
White, radiant, spotless, exquisitely pure,
Through all vicissitudes, till genial Spring
Has filled the laughing vales with welcome flowers.

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COMPOSED DURING A storu. ONE who was suffering tumult in his soul, Yet failed to seek the sure relief of prayer, Went forth, his course surrendering to the care Of the fierce wind, while midday lightnings prowl Insidiously, untimely thunders growl ; While trees, dim-seen, in frenzied numbers, tear The lingering remnants of their yellow hair, And shivering wolves, surprised with darkness,

howl As if the sun were not. He raised his eye Soul-smitten ; for, that instant, did appear Large space ('mid dreadful clouds) of purest sky, An azure disc, — shield of tranquillity; Invisible, unlooked-for minister Of providential goodness ever nigh!



LONE Flower, hemmed in with snows and white

as they But hardier far, once more I see thee bend Thy forehead, as if fearful to offend, Like an unbidden guest. Though day by day, Storms, sallying from the mountain-tops, waylay The rising sun, and on the plains descend ; Yet art thou welcome, welcome as a friend Whose zeal outruns his promise! Blue-eyed May Shall soon behold this border thickly set With bright jonquils, their odors lavishing On the soft West-wind and his frolic peers ; Nor will I then thy modest grace forget, Chaste Snowdrop, venturous harbinger of Spring, And pensive monitor of fleeting years !



With a selection from the Poems of Anne, Countess of Win

chilsea; and extracts of similar character from other Writers ; transcribed by a female friend.

LADY! I rifled a Parnassian Cave
(But seldom trod) of mildly gleaming ore;
And culled, from sundry beds, a lucid store
Of genuine crystals, pure as those that pave

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