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And afterwards, by my good father taught,

He well could love in grief: his faith he kept; I read, and loved the books in which I read; And in a quiet home once more my father slept. For books in every neighbouring house I sought,

We lived in peace and comfort; and were blest And nothing to my mind a sweeter pleasure brought.

With daily bread, by constant toil supplied. Can I forget what charm did once adorn

Three lovely infants lay upon my breast; My garden, stored with pease, and mint, and thyme, And often, viewing their sweet smiles, I sighed, And rose, and lily, for the sabbath morn?

And knew not why. My happy father died The sabbath bells, and their delightful chime;

When sad distress reduced the children's meal: The gambols and wild freaks at shearing time;

Thrice happy! that for him the grave did hide My hen's rich nest through long grass scarce espied; The empty loom, cold hearth, and silent wheel, The cowslip-gathering in June's dewy prime;

And tears which flowed for ills which patience could The swans, that, when I sought the water-side,

not heal. From far to meet me came, spreading their snowy

'Twas a hard change, an evil time was come; pride?

We had no hope, and no relief could gain. The staff I yet remember which upbore

But soon, with proud parade, the noisy drum The bending body of my active sire;

Beat round, to sweep the streets of want and pain. His seat beneath the honeyed sycamore

My husband's arms now only served to strain Where the bees hummed, and chair by winter fire; Me and his children hungering in his view: When market-morning came, the neat attire In such dismay my prayers and tears were vain: With which, though bent on haste, myself I deck'd; To join those miserable men he flew; {drew. My watchful dog, whose starts of furious ire, And now to the sea-coast with numbers more we When stranger passed, so often I have checked; The red-breast known for years, which at my case

There long were we neglected, and we bore ment pecked.

Much sorrow, ere the fleet its anchor weighed;

Green fields before us, and our native shore, The suns of twenty summers danced along,- We breathed a pestilential air, that made Ah! little marked how fast they rolled away: Ravage for which no knell was heard. We prayed But, through severe mischance, and cruel wrong, For our departure; wished and wished-nor knew My father's substance fell into decay;

'Mid that long sickness, and those hopes delayed, We toiled, and struggled—hoping for a day That happier days we never more must view: When fortune should put on a kinder look;

The parting signal streamed, at last the land with. But vain were wishes-efforts vain as they:

drew. He from his old hereditary nook

(we took. Must part,—the summons came-our final leave

But the calm summer season now was past. It was indeed a miserable hour

On as we drove, the equinoctial deep When from the last hill-top, my sire surveyed,

Ran mountains-high before the howling blast; Peering above the trees, the steeple tower

And many perished in the whirlwind's sweep.

We gazed with terror on their gloomy sleep, That on his marriage day sweet music made! Till then, he hoped his bones might there be laid,

Untaught that soon such anguish must ensue, Close by my mother in their native bowers;

Our hopes such barvest of affliction reap, Bidding me trust in God, he stood and prayed,

That we the mercy of the waves should rue: I could not pray:-through tears that fellin showers,

We reached the western world, a poor, devoted crew. Glimmered our dear-loved home, alas! no longer The pains and plagues that on our heads came down, ours!

Disease and famine, agony and fear, There was a youth whom I had loved so long,

In wood or wilderness, in camp or town, That when I loved him not I cannot say.

It would thy brain unsettle even to hear. 'Mid the green mountains many and many a song

All perished-all, in one remorseless year, We two had sung, like gladsome birds in May.

Husband and children! one by one, by sword When we began to tire of childish play

And ravenous plague, all perished: every tear We seemed still more and more to prize each other; Dried up, despairing, desolate, on board We talked of marriage and our marriage day;

A British ship I waked, as from a trance restored. And I in truth did love him like a brother, For never could I hope to meet with such another.

Peaceful as some immeasurable plain

By the first beams of dawning light imprest, Two years were passed since to a distant town In the calm sunshine slept the glittering main. He had repaired to ply the artist's trade.

The very ocean has its hour of rest. What tears of bitter grief till then unknown! I too was calm, though heavily distrest! What tender vows our last sad kiss delayed!

how quiet sky and ocean were! To him we turned: -we had no other aid.

My heart was hushed within me, I was blest, Like one revived, upon his neck I wept,

And looked, and looked along the silent air, And her whom he had loved in joy, he said Until it seemed to bring a joy to my despair.


Oh me,

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Ah! how unlike those late terrific sleeps,

My memory and my strength returned; and, thence And groans, that rage of racking famine spoke! Dismissed, again on open day I gazed, The unburied dead that lay in festering heaps! At houses, men, and common light, amazed. The breathing pestilence that rose like smoke! The lanes I sought, and, as the sun retired, The shriek that from the distant battle broke! Came where beneath the trees a faggot blazed; The mine’s dire earthquake, and the pallid host The travellers saw me weep, my fate inquired, Driven by the bomb's incessant thunder-stroke And gave ine food, -and rest, more welcome, more Toloathsome vaults,where heart-sick anguish toss'd, desired. Hope died, and fear itself in agony was lost!

They with their panniered asses semblance made Some mighty gulf of separation past,

Of potters wandering on from door to door:
I seemed transported to another world :-

But life of happier sort to me pourtrayed,
A thought resigned with pain, when from the mast And other joys my fancy to allure;
The impatient mariner the sail unfurled,

The bag-pipe, dinning on the midnight moor,
And, whistling, called the wind that hardly curled In barn uplighted, and companions boon
The silent sea. From the sweet thoughts of home

Well met from far with revelry secure, And from all hope I was for ever hurled.

Among the forest glades, when jocund June For me- e-farthest from earthly port to roam

Rolled fast along the sky his warm and genial moon. Was best, could I but shun the spot where man

But ill they suited me; those journies dark might come.

O'er moor and mountain, midnight theft to hatch! And oft I thought (my fancy was so strong)

To charm the surly house-dog's faithful bark, That I, at last, a resting-place had found;

Or hang on tip-toe at the lifted latch. " Here will I dwell,” said I, “ my whole life long, The gloomy lantern, and the dim blue match, Roaming the illimitable waters round:

The black disguise, the warning whistle shrill, Here will I live:-of every friend disowned,

And ear still busy on its nightly watch, And end my days upon the ocean flood."

Were not for me, brought up in nothing ill: (still. To break my dream the vessel reached its bound: Besides, on griefsso fresh my thoughts were brooding And homeless near a thousand homes I stood,

What could I do, unaided and unblest? And near a thousand tables pined, and wanted fool.

My father! gone was every friend of thine: By grief enfeebled, was I turned adrift,

And kindred of dead husband are at best Helpless as sailor cast on desert rock;

Small help; and, after marriage such as mine, Nor morsel to my mouth that day did lift,

With little kindness would to me incline. Nor dared my hand at any door to knock.

Ill was I then for toil or service fit: I lay where, with his drowsy mates, the cock

With tears whose course no effort could confine, From the cross timber of an out-house hung:

By the road-side forgetful would I sit Dismally tolled, that night, the city clock !

Whole hours, my idle arms in moping sorrow knit. At morn my sick heart hunger scarcely stung, I led a wandering life among the fields; Nor to the beggar's language could I frame my

Contentedly, yet sometimes self-accused, tongue.

I lived upon what casual bounty yields, So passed another day, and so the third;

Now coldly given, now utterly refused. Then did I try in vain the crowd's resort.

The ground I for my bed have often used: - In deep despair, by frightful wishes stirred,

But, what afflicts my peace with keenest ruth Near the sea-side I reached a ruined fort:

Is, that I have my inner self abused, There, pains which nature could no more support,

Forgone the home delight of constant truth, With blindness link'd, did on my vitals fall,

And clear and open soul, so prized in fearless youth. And I had many interruptions short

Three years thus wandering, often have I viewed, Of hideous sense; I sank, nor step could crawl,

In tears, the sun towards that country tend And thence was carried to a neighbouring hospital. Where my poor beart lost all its fortitude: Recovery came with food: but still my brain

And now across this moor my steps I bend Was weak, nor of the past had memory.

Oh! tell me whither--for no earthly friend I heard my neighbours, in their beds, complain

Have I.”-Sheceased, and weeping turned away;Of many things which never troubled me;

As if because her tale was at an end Of feet still bustling round with busy glee;

She wept;-because she had no more to say Of looks where common kindness had no part;

Of that perpetual weight which on her spirit lay. Of service done with careless cruelty, Fretting the fever round the languid heart; And

'TIS SAID, THAT SOME HAVE DIED groans, which, as they said, might make a dead man start.

FOR LOVE. These things just served to stir the torpid sense,

"Tis said, that some have died for love: Nor paina nor pity in my bosom raised.

And here and there a church-yard grave is found

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In the cold north's unhallowed ground,

I heard, and saw the flashes drive; Because the wretched man himself had slain,

And yet they are upon my eyes,
His love was such a grievous pain.

And yet I am alive.
And there is one whom I five years have known; Before I see another day,
He dwells alone

Oh let my body die away!
Upon Helvellyn's side:

My fire is dead: it knew no pain; He loved--the pretty Barbara died,

Yet is it dead, and I remain. And thus he makes his moan:

All stiff with ice the ashes lie; Three years had Barbara in her grave been laid,

And they are dead, and I will die. When thus his moan he made;

When I was well, I wished to live, “Oh, move, thou cottage, from behind that oak! For clothes, for warmth, for food, and fire; Or let the aged tree uprooted lie,

But they to me no joy can give, That in some other way yon smoke

No pleasure now, and no desire.
May mount into the sky!

Then here contented will I lie!
The clouds pass on; they from the heavens depart: Alone I cannot fear to die.
I look-the sky is empty space;

Alas! ye might have dragged me on
I know not what I trace;

Another day, a single one! But, when I cease to look, my hand is on my heart.

Too soon I yielded to despair; “ 0! what a weight is in these shades! Ye leaves, Why did ye listen to my prayer? When will that dying murmur be supprest?

When ye were gone my limbs were stronger; Your sound my heart of peace bereaves,

And oh how grievously I rue, It robs my heart of rest.

That, afterwards, a little longer, Thou thrush, that singest loud--and loud and free, My friends, I did not follow you! Into yon row of willows flit,

For strong and without pain I lay, Upon that alder sit;

My friends, when ye were gone away. Or sing another song, or choose another tree.

My child! they gave thee to another, “Roll back, sweet rill! back to thy mountain bounds, A woman who was not thy mother. And there for ever be thy waters chained!

When from my arms my babe they took, For thou dost haunt the air with sounds

On me how strangely did he look! That cannot be sustained;

Through his whole body something ran, If still beneath that pine-tree's ragged bough

A most strange working did I see; Headlong yon waterfall must come,

-As if he strove to be a man, Oh let it then be dumb!

That he might pull the sledge for me. Be any thing, sweet rill, but that which thou art now.

And then he stretched his arms, how wild! “ Thou eglantine, whose arch so proudly towers,

Oh mercy! like a helpless child. (Even like a rainbow spanning half the vale)

My little joy! my little pride! Thou one fair shrub, oh! shed thy flowers,

In two days more I must have died. And stir not in the gale.

Then do not weep and grieve for me ; For thus to see thee nodding in the air,

I feel I must have died with thee. To see thy arch thus stretch and bend,

Oh wind, that o'er my head art flying Thus rise and thus descend,

The way my friends their course did bend, Disturbs me, till the sight is more than I can bear."

I should not feel the pain of dying,

Could I with thee a message send! The man who makes this feverish complaint

Too soon, my friends, ye went away;
Is one of giant stature, who could dance

For I had many things to say.
Equipped from head to foot in iron mail.
Ah gentle Love! if ever thought was thine

I'll follow you across the snow;
To store up kindred hours for me, thy face

Ye travel heavily and slow; Turn from me, gentle Love! nor let me walk

In spite of all my weary pain, Within the sound of Emma's voice, or know

I'll look upon your tents again.
Such happiness as I have known to-day.

My fire is dead, and snowy white
The water which beside it stood;

The wolf has come to me to-night,

And he has stolen away my food.

For ever left alone am I,

Then wherefore should I fear to die?
Before I see another day,
Oh let my body die away!
In sleep I heard the northern gleams;

THE LAST OF THE FLOCK. The stars were mingled with my dreams ;

In distant countries have I been, In rustling conflict, through the skies,

And yet I have not often seen

A healthy man, a man full grown,

Another still! and still another! Weep in the public roads alone.

A little lamb, and then its inother! But such a one, on English ground,

It was a vein that never stopp'dAnd in the broad high-way, I met;

Like blood-drops from my heart they droppid. Along the broad high-way he came,

Till thirty were not left alive His cheeks with tears were wet.

They dwindled, dwindled, one by one, Sturdy he seemed, though he was sad;

And I may say, that many a time And in his arms a lamb he had.

I wished they all were gone:

They dwindled one by one away; He saw me, and he turned aside,

For me it was a woeful day. As if he wished himself to hide:

To wicked deeds I was inclined, Then with his coat he made essay

And wicked fancies crossed my mind;
To wipe those briny tears away.

And every man I chanced to see,
I followed him, and said, “ My friend,
What ails you? wherefore weep you so :"

I thought he knew some ill of me. -“ Shame on me, sir! this lusty lamb,

No peace, no comfort could I find,

No ease, within doors or without;
He makes my tears to flow.

And crazily, and wearily,
To-day I fetched him from the rock;
He is the last of all my flock.

I went my work about.

Oft-limes I thought to run away; When I was young, a single man,

For me it was a woeful day. And after youthful follies ran,

Sir! 'twas a precious flock to me, Though little given to care and thought,

As dear as my own children be; Yet, so it was, a ewe I bought;

For daily with my growing store And other sheep from her I raised,

I loved my children more and more. As healthy sheep as you might see;

Alas! it was an evil time; And then I married, and was rich

God cursed me in my sore distress; As I could wish to be;

I prayed, yet every day I thought Of sheep I numbered a full score,

I loved my children less ; And every year increased my store.

And every week, and every day,

My flock, it seemed to melt away.
Year after year my stock it grew;
And from this one, this single ewe,

They dwindled, sir, sad sight to see! # Full fifty comely sheep I raised,

From ten to five, from five to three, As sweet a flock as ever grazed !

A lamb, a wether, and a ewe;Upon the mountain did they feed,

And then at last, from three to two; They throve, and we at home did thrive.

And of my fifty, yesterday -This lusty lamb, of all my store,

I had but only one: Is all that is alive;

And here it lies upon my arm, And now I care not if we die,

Alas! and I have none;And perish all of poverty.

To-day I fetched it from the rock;

It is the last of all my flock."
Six children, sir! had I to feed;
Hard labour in a time of need!
My pride was tamed, and in our grief

I of the parish asked relief.

“ With sacrifice, before the rising morn They said I was a wealthy man;

Performed, my slaughtered lord have I required; My sheep upon the mountain fed,

And in thick darkness, amid shades forlorn, And it was fit that thence I took

Him of the infernal gods have I desired: Whereof to buy us bread. “ Do this: how can we give to you,”

Celestial pity I again implore ;They cried, “ what to the poor is due?"

Restore him to my sight-great Jove, restore !"

So speaking, and by fervent love endowed [hands; I sold a sheep, as they had said,

With faith, the suppliant heaven-ward lifts her And bought my little children bread,

While, like the sun emerging from a cloud, And they were healthy with their food;

Her countenance brightens—and her eye expands, For me-it never did me good.

Her bosom heaves and spreads, her stature grows, A woeful time it was for me,

And she expects the issue in repose.
To see the end of all my gains,
The pretty flock which I had reared

O terror! what hath she perceived ?-Ojoy! With all my care and pains,

What doth she look on i-whom doth she behold: To see it melt like snow away!

Her hero slain upon the beach of Troy? For me it was a woeful day.

His vital presence-his corporeal mold?


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It is-if sense deceive her not-'tis he!

“ Be taught, O faithful consort, to control And a god leads him-winged Mercury!

Rebellious passion: for the gods approve

The depth, and not the tumult of the soul;
Mild Hermes spake—and touched her with his wand

A fervent, not ungovernable love.
That calms all fear,“ Such grace hath crowned thy

Thy transports moderate; and meekly moura
Laodamia, that at Jove's command (prayer,

When I depart, for brief is my sojourn—"
Thy husband walks the paths of upper air:
He comes to tarry with thee three hours' space; “ Ah, wherefore ?-Did not Hercules by force
Accept the gift, behold him face to face !"

Wrest from the guardian monster of the tomb

Alcestis, a reanimated corse,
Forth sprang the impassioned queen her lord to Given back to dwell on earth in beauty's bloon!
Again that consummation she essayed; (clasp;

Medea's spells dispersed the weight of years,
But unsubstantial form eludes her grasp

And Æson stood a youth 'mid youthful peers.
As often as that eager grasp was made.
The phantom parts—but parts to re-unite,

“ The gods to us are merciful—and they
And re-assume his place before her sight.

Yet further may relent: for mightier far

Than strength of nerve and sinew, or the sway “ Protesilaus, lo! thy guide is gone!

Of magic potent over sun and star,
Confirm, I pray, the vision with thy voice:

Is love, though oft to agony distrest, [bree!
This is our palace,-yonder is thy throne;

And though his favourite seat be feeble womaa'i
Speak, and the floor thou tread'st on will rejoice.
Not to appal me have the gods bestowed

" But if thou go'st, I follow"_“ Peace!” he saidThis precious boon,-and blest a sad abode." She looked upon him and was calmed and cheeret;

The ghastly colour from his lips had Jed; “Great Jove, Laodamia, doth not leave

In his deportment, shape, and mien, appeared
His gifts imperfect:-Spectre though I be,

Elysian beauty-melancholy grace-
I am not sent to scare thee or deceive;

Brought from a pensive though a happy place.
But in reward of thy fidelity.
And something also did my worth obtain ;

He spake of love, such love as spirits feel
For fearless virtue bringeth boundless gain.

In worlds whose course is equable and pure;

No fears to beat away-no strife to heal-
“ Thou know'st, the Delphic oracle foretold The past unsighed for, and the future sure;
That the first Greek who touched the Trojan strand Spake, as a witness, of a second birth
Should die; but me the threat could not withhold: For all that is most perfect upon earth:
A generous cause a victim did demand;
And forth I leapt upon the sandy plain;

Of all that is most beauteous—imaged there
A self-devoted chief-by Hector slain.”

In happier beauty; more pellucid streams,

An ampler ether, a diviner air,
Supreme of heroes-bravest, noblest, best! And fields invested with purpureal gleams;
Thy matchless courage I bewail no more,

Climes which the sun, who sheds the brightest day
Which then, when tens of thousands were deprest Earth knows, is all unworthy to survey.
By doubt, propelled thee to the fatal shore:
Thou found’st—and I forgive thee-here thou art-

Yet there the soul shall enter which hath earned A nobler counsellor than my poor heart.

That privilege by virtue.—“ III,” said he,

* The end of man's existence I discerned, “ But thou, though capable of sternest deed, Who from ignoble games and revelry Wert kind as resolute, and good as brave;

Could draw, whien we had parted, vain delight, And he, whose power restores thee, hath decreed While tears were thy best pastime,-day and night: That thou shouldst cheat the malice of the grave; Redundant are thy lucks, thy lips as fair

“ And while my youthful peers, before my eyes, As when their breath enriched Thessalian air. (Each hero following his peculiar bent)

Prepared themselves for glorious enterprize “ No spectre greets me,-no vain shadow this:

By martial sports,-or, seated in the tent, Come, blooming hero, place thee by my side!

Chieftains and kings in council were detained ; Give, on this well-known couch, one nuptial kiss What time the fleet at Aulis lay enchained. To me, this day, a second time thy bride!" Jove frowned in heaven; the conscious Parcæ threw “ The wish’d-for wind was given :- I then revolved Upon those roseate lips a Stygian hue.

The oracle, upon the silent sea;

And, if no worthier led the way, resolved “ This visage tells thee that my doom is past:

That, of a thousand vessels, mine should be Know, virtue were not virtue if the joys

The foremost prow in pressing to the strand,Of sense were able to return as fast

Mine the first blood that tinged the Trojan sand. And surely as they vanish.-Earth destroys Those raptures duly-Erebus disdains:

“ Yet bitter, oft-times bitter, was the pang Calm pleasures th abide-majestic pains. When of thy loss I thought, beloved wife;


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