O silent spirit of the place,

If lingering with the ruined year, Thy hoary form and awful face

I yet might watch and worship here! Thy storm were music to my ear, Thy wildest walk a shelter given

Sublimer thoughts on earth to find, And share, with no unhallowed mind, The majesty of heaven.

What though the bosom friends of Fate,—
Prosperity's unwearied brood,-

Thy consolations cannot rate,
O self-dependent solitude!
Yet with a spirit unsubdued,

Though darkened by the clouds of Care,
To worship thy congenial gloom,
A pilgrim to the Prophet's tomb
Misfortune shall repair.

On her the world hath never smiled
Or looked but with accusing eye;-
All-silent goddess of the wild,

To thee that misanthrope shall fly!
I hear her deep soliloquy,

I mark her proud but ravaged form,
As stern she wraps her mantle round,
And bids, on winter's bleakest ground,
Defiance to the storm.

Peace to her banished heart, at last,
In thy dominions shall descend,
And, strong as beechwood in the blast,
Her spirit shall refuse to bend ;
Enduring life without a friend,
The world and falsehood left behind,
Thy votary shall bear elate,

And triumph o'er opposing Fate,
Her dark inspired mind.

But dost thou, Folly, mock the muse
A wanderer's mountain walk to sing,
Who shuns a warring world, nor wooes
The vulture cover of its wing?

Then fly, thou towering, shivering thing,
Back to the fostering world beguiled,
To waste in self-consuming strife
The loveless brotherhood of life,
Reviling and reviled !

Away, thou lover of the race

That hither chased yon weeping deer!
If nature's all majestic face

More pitiless than man's appear;
Or if the wild winds seem more drear
Than man's cold charities below,
Behold around his peopled plains,
Where'er the social savage reigns,
Exuberance of woe!

His art and honours wouldst thou seek
Embossed on grandeur's giant walls?
Or hear his moral thunders speak

Where senates light their airy halls,
Where man his brother man enthralls;
Or sends his whirlwind warrants forth

To rouse the slumbering fiends of war,
To dye the blood-worn waves afar,
And desolate the earth?

From clime to clime pursue the scene,
And mark in all thy spacious way,
Where'er the tyrant man has been,
There Peace, the cherub, cannot stay;
In wilds and woodlands far away
She builds her solitary bower,

Where only anchorites have trod,
Or friendless men, to worship God,
Have wandered for an hour.

In such a far forsaken vale,

And such sweet Eldun vale is thine,

Afflicted nature shall inhale

Heaven-borrowed thoughts and joys divine;

No longer wish, no more repine

For man's neglect or woman's scorn ;

Then wed thee to an exile's lot,

For if the world hath loved thee not,

Its absence may be borne.

ai..

And warh- the mi

An

Day's latest. 1 veliest sudle:

aw the bright, broad. in vin.

Sal up the sapphire skies of June!

Kirkstall Abbey Revisited.

DRAWN BY C.COPE. ENGRAVED BY E.FINDEN PUBLISHED BY HURST. ROBINSON. &C LONDON.