And if a sleeping tear should wake,
Then be it neither check'd nor stay'd:
For Matthew a request I make
Which for himself he had not made.

Poor Matthew, all his frolics o'er,
Is silent as a standing pool,

Far from the chimney's merry roar,
And murmur of the village school.

The sighs which Matthew heav'd were sighs
Of one tir'd out with fun and madness;
The tears which came to Matthew's eyes
Were tears of light, the oil of gladness.

Yet sometimes when the secret cup
Of still and serious thought went round,
It seem'd as if he drank it up,
He felt with spirit so profound.

-Thou soul of God's best earthly mould!

Thou happy soul! and can it be

That these two words of glittering gold
Are all that must remain of Thee?

THE

TWO APRIL MORNINGS.

WE walk'd along, while bright and red Uprose the morning sun,

And Matthew stopp'd, he look'd, and said "The Will of God be done!''.

A village Schoolmaster was he,
With hair of glittering grey;
As blithe a man as you could see
On a spring holiday,

And on that morning, through the grass,

And by the steaming rills,

We travell'd merrily to pass

A day among the hills

"Our work (said I) was well begun;

"Then, from thy breast what thought, "Beneath so beautiful a sun,

"So sad a sigh has brought?"

A second time did Matthew stop,
And fixing still his eye

Upon the eastern mountain-top
To me he made reply.-

Yon cloud with that long purple cleft
Brings fresh into my mind

A day like this which I have left
Full thirty years behind.

• And on that slope of springing corn 'The self same crimson hue

• Fell from the sky that April morn, The same which now I view!

• With rod and line my silent sport I plied by Derwent's wave,

'And coming to the church, stopp'd short Beside my daughter's grave.

• Nine summers had she scarcely seen;

The pride of all the vale;

And then she sang!-she would have been
A very nightingale.

• Six feet in earth my Emma lay,

And yet I lov'd her more,

"For so it seem'd, than till that day 'I e'er had lov'd before.

And, turning from her grave, I met • Beside the church-yard Yew

'A blooming Girl, whose hair was wet "With points of morning dew.

* A basket on her head she bear,
Her brow, was smooth and white,
• To see a child so very fair,
'It was a pure delight!

'No fountain from its rocky cave

6

' E'er tripp'd with foot so free,

'She seem'd as happy as a wave That dances on the sea.

There came from me a sigh of pain 'Which I could ill confine;

'I look'd at her, and look'd again: -And did not wish her mine.'

Matthew is in his grave, yet now
Methinks I see him stand,

As at that moment, with his bough
Of wilding in his hand.

THE FOUNTAIN,

A Conversation.

WE talk'd with open heart, and tongué Affectionate and true,

A pair of Friends, though I was young, And Matthew seventy-two!

We lay beneath a spreading oak,

Beside a mossy seat,

And from the turf a fountain broke,

And gurgled at our feet.

Now, Matthew, let us try to match
This water's pleasant tune

With some old Border-song, or Catch

That suits a summer's noon.

Or of the Church-clock and the Chimes

Sing, here beneath the shade,

That half-mad thing of witty rhymes Which you last April made!