That we have all of us one human heart. Sits by her fire, and builds her hope in Heaven. Then let him pass, a blessing on his head! And while in that vast solitude to which The tide of things has borne him, he appears To breathe and live but for himself alone, Unblamed, uninjured, let him bear about The good which the benignant law of Heaven Has hung around him: and, while life is his, Still let him prompt the unlettered villagers To tender offices and pensive thoughts. -Then let him pass, a blessing on his head! And, long as he can wander, let him breathe The freshness of the valleys; let his blood Struggle with frosty air and winter snows; And let the chartered wind that sweeps the heath Beat his gray locks against his withered face. Reverence the hope whose vital anxiousness Gives the last human interest to his heart. May never House, misnamed of INDUSTRY, Make him a captive! for that pent-up din, Those life consuming sounds that clog the air, Be his the natural silence of old age! Let him be free of mountain solitudes; And have around him, whether heard or not, THE FRENCH ARMY IN RUSSIA HUMANITY, delighting to behold A fond reflection of her own decay, Propped on a staff-and, through the sullen day, As though his weakness were disturbed by pain: An undisputed symbol of command, Infirmly grasped within a palsied hand. For he it was-dread Winter! who beset- He smote the blossoms of their warrior youth; He called on Frost's inexorable tooth Life to consume in manhood's firmest hold; Nor spared the reverend blood that feebly runs, For why, unless for liberty enrolled And sacred home, ah! why should heary Age be bold ? Fleet the Tartar's reinless steed, But fleeter far the pinions of the Wind, Which from Siberian caves the Monarch freed, No pitying voice commands a halt, LUCY. Three years she grew in sun and shower, Myself will to my darling be Both law and impulse: and with me, In earth and heaven, in glade and bower, T kindle or restrain. She shall be sportive as the Fawn The floating Clouds their state shall lend To her; for her the willow bend; Nor shall she fail to see, Even in the motions of the Storm Grace that shall mould the Maiden's form By silent sympathy. |