IX.

And even when age hath strewn the brow
With many a trace of time and care,
When all around is bright as now,

The world-worn man may here repair,
And gaze on Childhood's frolics fair,
Its artless mirth and sports, until
He lives again o'er joys that were,-

O'er boyish days on RICHMOND-HILL

X.

Eden of many hearts! gay

haunt

Of Youth-Age-Wealth and Poverty !

How doth the prisoned bosom pant

For one sweet day, from drudgery free,

To dedicate to bliss and thee!

Oh! if 'tis brightest fame, to fill

Unnumbered hearts with ecstasy;

Such fame is thine, sweet RICHMOND-HILL.

XI.

But lo! the sun is sinking fast,

Emblem how meet of man's decline, When, life's obstructing shadows past, His evening hour grows bright as thine! And one mild gleam-Faith's glorious signLike yon bright bark that seems so still, Glides on the soul in light divine,

And leads it far from RICHMOND-HILL.

CHILDE HAROLD's LAST PILGRIMAGE.

BY THE REV. W. LISLE BOWLES.

I.

So ends Childe Harold his last Pilgrimage!--
Above the Malian surge he stood, and cried

'Liberty!" and the shores, from age to age

Renowned, and Sparta's woods and rocks, replied 'Liberty!" But a Spectre, at his side,

Stood mocking;-and its dart uplifting high

Smote him:-he sank to earth in life's fair pride:
Sparta! thy rocks echoed another cry,

And old Ilissus sighed "Die, generous exile, die!"

II.

I will not ask sad Pity to deplore

His wayward errors, who thus early died:

Still less, Childe Harold, now thou art no more,
Will I say aught of genius misapplied

44 CHILDE HAROLD'S LAST PILGRIMAGE.

Of the past shadows of thy spleen or pride:—
But I will bid the' Arcadian cypress wave,
Pluck the green laurel from Peneus' side,

And pray thy spirit may such quiet have,

That not one thought unkind be murmured o'er thy grave.

III.

So ends Childe Harold his last Pilgrimage!-
Ends in that region-in that land renowned,
Whose mighty genius lives in Glory's page,
And on the Muses' consecrated ground,-
His pale cheek fading where his brows were bound
With their unfading wreath! I will not call
The nymphs from Pindus' piny shades profound,
But strew some flowers upon thy sable pall,
And follow to the grave a Briton's funeral.

IV.

Slow move the plumed hearse, the mourning train,
I mark the long procession with a sigh,

Silently passing to that village fane

Where, Harold, thy fore-fathers mouldering lie;—
Where sleeps that mother, who with tearful eye
Pondering the fortunes of thy onward road,
Hung o'er the slumbers of thine infancy;
Who here, released from every human load,
Receives her long-lost child to the same calm abode.

CHILDE HAROLD'S LAST PILGRIMAGE. 45

V.

Bursting Death's silence-could that mother speak-
When first the earth is heaped upon thy head,
In thrilling, but with hollow accent weak,

She thus might give the welcome of the dead :--
"Here rest my son with me;-the dream is fled;-
The motley mask and the great coil are o'er:
Welcome to me, and to this wormy bed,
Where deep forgetfulness succeeds the roar
Of earth, and fretting passions waste the heart no more.

VI.

"Here rest!-On all thy wanderings peace repose, After the fever of thy toilsome way;

No interruption this long silence knows; Here no vain phantoms lead the soul astray: The earth-worm feeds on his unconscious prey; Here both shall sleep in peace till earth and sea Give up their dead, at that last awful day, King, Lord, Almighty Judge! remember me; And may Heav'n's mercy rest, my erring child, on thee!"

YOUTH RENEWED.

BY JAMES MONTGOMERY, ESQ.

I.

SPRING-FLOWERS, spring-birds, spring-breezes
Are felt, and heard, and seen;
Light trembling transport seizes

My heart, with sighs between ;
These old enchantments fill the mind

With scenes and seasons left behind ;-
Childhood, its smiles and tears,—
Youth, with its flush of years,

Its morning clouds, and dewy prime,
More exquisitely tinged by time!

II.

Fancies again are springing,
Like May-flowers in the vales;
While hopes long lost are singing,
From thorns, like nightingales;
And kindly spirits stir my blood,
Like vernal airs that curl the flood: