Or guide of soul-subduing power

The glance, that from the half-confessing eye
Darts the fond question or the soft reply.

VI.

Or through the mystic ringlets of the vale
We flash our faery feet in gamesome prank;
Or, silent-sandal'd, pay our defter court,
Circling the Spirit of the Western Gale,
Where wearied with his flower-caressing sport,
Supine he slumbers on a violet bank;

Then with quaint music hymn the parting gleam
By lonely Otter's sleep-persuading stream;
Or where his wave with loud unquiet song
Dashed o'er the rocky channel froths along;
Or where, his silver waters smoothed to rest,
The tall tree's shadow sleeps upon his breast.

VII.

Hence, thou lingerer Light!
Eve saddens into Night.

Mother of wildly-working dreams! we view
The sombre hours, that round thee stand
With down-cast eyes (a duteous band!),
Their dark robes dripping with the heavy dew.
Sorceress of the ebon throne!
Thy power the Pixies own,
When round thy raven brow
Heaven's lucent roses glow,

And clouds in watery colors drest

Float in light drapery o'er thy sable vest:

What time the pale moon sheds a softer day

Mellowing the woods beneath its pensive beam:

For 'mid the quivering light 'tis ours to play,
Aye dancing to the cadence of the stream.

VIII.

Welcome, Ladies! to the cell

Where the blameless Pixies dwell:

But thou, sweet Nymph! proclaimed our Faery Queen,

With what obeisance meet

Thy presence shall we greet!

For lo! attendant on thy steps are seen
Graceful Ease in artless stole,
And white-robed Purity of soul,
With Honor's softer mien;

Mirth of the loosely-flowing hair,
And meek-eyed Pity eloquently fair,

Whose tearful cheeks are lovely to the view. As snow-drop wet with dew.

IX.

Unboastful Maid! though now the Lily pale
Transparent grace thy beauties meek;

Yet ere again along the impurpling vale,
The purpling vale and elfin-haunted grove,
Young Zephyr his fresh flowers profusely throws,
We'll tinge with livelier hues thy cheek;
And haply, from the nectar-breathing Rose
Extract a Blush for Love!

4

THE RAVEN.

A CHRISTMAS TALE, TOLD BY A SCHOOL-BOY TO HIS LITTLE BROTHERS AND SISTERS.

UNDERNEATH an old oak tree

There was of swine a huge company,

That grunted as they crunched the mast:
For that was ripe, and fell full fast.

Then they trotted away, for the wind grew high:
One acorn they left, and no more might you spy.
Next came a Raven, that liked not such folly:
He belonged, they did say, to the witch Melancholy!
Blacker was he than blackest jet,

Flew low in the rain, and his feathers not wet.
He picked up the acorn and buried it straight
By the side of a river both deep and great.
Where then did the Raven go?

He went high and low,

Over nil, over dale, did the black Raven go.
Many Autumns, many Springs
Travelled he with wandering wings:
Many Summers, many Winters-

I can't tell half his adventures.

At length he came back, and with him a She.
And the acorn was grown to a tall oak tree.
They built them a nest in the topmost bough,
And young ones they had, and were happy enow.
But soon came a woodman in leathern guise,
His brow, like a pent-house, hung over his eyes.
He'd an axe in his hand, not a word he spoke,
But with many a hem! and a sturdy stroke,
At length he brought down the poor Raven's own

oak.

His young ones were killed; for they could not depart,

And their mother did die of a broken heart.
The boughs from the trunk the Woodman did sever;
And they floated it down on the course of the river.
They sawed it in planks, and its bark they did strip,
And with this tree and others they made a good ship.
The ship, it was launched; but in sight of the land
Such a storm there did rise as no ship could with-
stand.

It bulged on a rock, and the waves rushed in fast:
Round and round flew the Raven, and caw'd to the blast.
He heard the last shriek of the perishing souls-
See! See! o'er the topmast the mad water rolls!

Right glad was the Raven, and off he went fleet, And Death riding home on a cloud he did meet, And he thank'd him again and again for this treat: They had taken his all, and Revenge it was sweet!

ABSENCE.

A FAREWELL ODE, ON QUITTING SCHOOL FOR
JESUS COLLEGE, CAMBRIDGE.

WHERE graced with many a classic spoil

Cam rolls his reverend stream along,

I haste to urge the learned toil

That sternly chides my love-lorn song:

Ah me! too mindful of the days

Illumed by Passion's orient rays,

When Peace, and Cheerfulness, and Health
Enriched me with the best of wealth.

Ah fair Delights! that o'er my soul
On Memory's wing, like shadows, fly!

Ah Flowers! which Joy from Eden stole
While Innocence stood smiling by!—

But cease, fond Heart! this bootless moan:
Those Hours on rapid Pinions flown
Shall yet return, by Absence crowned,
And scatter livelier roses round.

The Sun who ne'er remits his fires
On heedless eyes may pour the day;
The Moon, that oft from Heaven retires,
Endears her renovated ray.

What though she leave the sky unblest
To mourn awhile in murky vest?
When she relumes her lovely Light,
We bless the Wanderer of the Night.

F

SONNET.

ON THE SAME.

AREWELL parental scenes! a sad farewell! To you my grateful heart still fondly clings, Tho' fluttering round on Fancy's burnished wings Her tales of future Joy Hope loves to tell. Adieu, adieu! ye much loved cloisters pale! Ah! would those happy days return again, When 'neath your arches, free from every stain, I heard of guilt and wondered at the tale! Dear haunts! where oft my simple lays I sang, Listening meanwhile the echoings of my feet, Lingering I quit you, with as great a pang, As when ere while, my weeping childhood, torn By early sorrow from my native seat,

Mingled its tears with hers-my widowed Parent lorn.