There as I pass'd with careless steps and slow,
The mingling notes came soften'd from below;
The swain responsive as the milk-maid sung,
The sober herd that low'd to meet their young,
The noisy geese that gabbled o'er the pool,
The playful children just let loose from school,
The watch-dog's voice that bay'd the whispering wind,
And the loud laugh that spoke the vacant mind,—
These all in soft confusion sought the shade,
And fill'd each pause the nightingale had made.
Morning Sounds.

Up springs the lark,

Shrill-voic'd, and loud, the messenger of morn;
Ere yet the shadows fly, he mounted sings
Amid the dawning clouds, and from their haunts
Calls up the tuneful nations. Every copse,
Deep-tangled, tree irregular, and bush,
Bending with dewy moisture o'er the heads
Of the coy quiristers that lodge within,
Are prodigal of harmony. The thrush
And woodlark, o'er the kind contending throng
Superior heard, run through the sweetest length
Of notes; when listening Philomela deigns
To let them joy, and purposes in thought
Elate, to make her night excel their day.
The black-bird whistles from the thorny brake;
The mellow bulfinch answers from the grove;
Nor are the linnets, o'er the flowering furze
Pour'd out profusely, silent. Join'd to these,
Innumerous songsters, in the freshening shade
Of new-sprung leaves, their modulations mix
Mellifluous. The jay, the rook, the daw,
And each harsh pipe, discordant heard alone,
Aid the full concert; while the stock-dove breatnes
A melancholy murmur through the whole.

1. FRIENDSHIP in truth is but a name,
Unless to few we stint the flame.
The child, whom many fathers share,
Hath seldom known a father's care.

'Tis thus in friendship; who depend
On many, rarely find a friend.
A hare, who in a civil way,
Complied with every thing like Gay,
Was known by all the bestial train,
Who haunt the woods, or graze the plain.
Her care was never to offend;
And ev'ry creature was her friend.

2. As forth she went at early dawn, To taste the dew-besprinkled lawn, Behind she hears the hunter's cries, And from deep-mouthed thunder flies. She starts, she stops, she pants for breath; 'She hears the near advance of death; She doubles to mislead the hound, And measures back her mazy round, Till, fainting in the public way, Half-dead with fear she gasping lay.

3. What transport in her bosom grew,
When first the horse appear'd in view!
"Let me," says she, "your back ascend,
And owe my safety to a friend.

You know my feet betray my flight;
To friendship ev'ry burthen's light."
The horse replied,-"Poor honest puss!
It grieves my heart to see thee thus:
Be comforted, relief is near;
For all your friends are in the rear."

4. She next the stately bull implor'd;
And thus replied the mighty lord-
"Since ev'ry beast alive can tell
That I sincerely wish you well,
I may, without offense, pretend
To take the freedom of a friend.-
To leave you thus might seem unkind;
the goat is just behind."

But see,

5. The goat remark'd her pulse was high, Her languid head, her heavy eye,— "My back," says he, "may do you harm; The sheep's at hand, and wool is warm."

The sheep was feeble, and complain'd
His sides a load of wool sustain'd;
Said he was slow, confess'd his fears;
For hounds eat sheep as well as hares.

6. She now the trotting calf address'd, To save from death a friend distress'd.

5. Then spoke the warrior chief, and bade
To shred his locks away;

And, one by one, each heavy braid
Before the vietor lay.

Thick were the plaited locks and long,
And deftly hidden there,

Shone many a wedge of gold among
The dark and crisped hair.

6. "Look! feast thy greedy eyes with gold,
Long kept for sorest need:
Take it, thou askest sums untold,
And say that I am freed.

Take it-my wife, the long, long day,
Weeps by the cocoa-tree:

And my young children leave their play,
And ask in vain for me."

7. "I take thy gold; but I have made
Thy fetters fast and strong;
And ween that by the cocoa shade
Thy wife shall wait thee long."
Strong was the agony inat shook
The captive's frame to hear;
And the proud meaning of his look
Was changed to mortal fear.

8. His heart was broken-crazed his brain;
At once his eye grew wild:

He struggled fiercely with his chain,
Whispered, and wept, and smiled!
Yet wore not long those fatal bands;
And once at shut of day,

They drew him forth upon the sand,
The foul hyena's prey.

SECTION III.

The Sacrifice of Abraham.

Bryant.

1. MORN breaketh in the east. The purple clouds Are putting on their gold and violet,

To look the meeter for the sun's bright coming.
Sleep is upon the waters and the wind;

And nature from the wary forest-leaf
To her majestic master, sleeps. As yet
There is no mist upon the deep blue sky,
And the clear dew is, on the blushing blossoms
Of crimson roses in a holy rest.

2. How hallowed is the hour of morning! meet,
Aye-beautifully meet for the pure prayer.
The patriarch standeth at his tented door,
With his white locks uncover'd. 'Tis his wont

To gaze upon the gorgeous orient;
And at that hour the awful majesty
Of man who talketh often with his God,
Is wont to come again and clothe his brow,
As at his fourscore strength.

3. But now, he seemeth

To be forgetful of his vigorous frame,
And boweth to his staff as at the hour

Of noontide sultriness. And that bright sun-
He looketh at his pencil'd messengers,
Coming in golden raiment, as if all
Were but a graven scroll of fearfulness.
Ah, he is waiting till it herald in

The hour to sacrifice his much lov'd son!
4. Light poureth on the world.

And Sarah stands, Watching the steps of Abraham and her child, Along the dewy sides of the far hills, And praying that her sunny boy faint notWould she have watched their paths 'so silently, If she had known that he was going up, Ev'n in his fair hair'd beauty, to be slain, As a white lamb for sacrifice?

5.

They trod

Together onward, patriarch and child

The bright sun throwing back the old man's shade
In straight and fair proportion, as of one
Whose years were freshly number'd. He stood up,
Even in his vigorous strength, and like a tree.
Rooted in Lebanon, his frame bent not;
His thin, white hairs had yielded to the wind,
And left his brow uncover'd; and his face,
Impress'd with the stern majesty of grief,
Nerved to a solem duty, now stood forth
Like a rent rock, submissive, yet sublime.
6. But the young boy-he of the laughing eye
And ruby lip, the pride of life was on him.
He seemed to drink the morning.
And the aroma of the spicy trees,
And all that giveth the delicious east
Its fitness for an Eden, stole like light
Into his spirit, ravishing his thoughts
With love and beauty. Every thing he met,

The sun and dew,