Gently ascending from a silvery flood, Above the palace rose the shaded hill, The lofty eminence was crowned with wood, And the rich lawns, adorned by nature's skill, The passing breezes with their odours fill; Here ever-blooming groves of orange glow, And here all flowers, which from their leaves distil Ambrosial dew, in sweet succession blow, And trees of matchless size a fragrant shade bestow. The sun looks glorious 'mid a sky serene, And bids bright lustre sparkle o'er the tide ; The clear blue ocean at a distance seen, Bounds the gay landscape on the western side, While closing round it with majestic pride, The lofty rocks mid citron groves arise; 'Sure some divinity must here reside,'

As tranced in some bright vision, Psyche cries, And scarce believes the bliss, or trusts her charmed eyes. When lo a voice divinely sweet she hears, From unseen lips proceeds the heavenly sound; 'Psyche approach, dismiss thy timid fears,

At length his bride thy longing spouse has found,
And bids for thee immortal joys abound;
For thee the palace rose at his command,
For thee his love a bridal banquet crowned;
He bids attendant nymphs around thee stand,
Prompt every wish to serve-a fond obedient band.'
Increasing wonder filled her ravished soul,
For now the pompous portals opened wide,
There, pausing oft, with timid foot she stole
Through halls high-domed, enriched with sculp-
tured pride,

While gay saloons appeared on either side,
In splendid vista opening to her sight;

And all with precious gems so beautified,
And furnished with such exquisite delight,

Once more she hears the hymeneal strain; Far other voices now attune the lay; The swelling sounds approach, awhile remain, And then retiring, faint dissolved away; The expiring lamps emit a feebler ray, And soon in fragrant death extinguished lie: Then virgin terrors Psyche's soul dismay, When through the obscuring gloom she nought can spy, But softly rustling sounds declare some being nigh. Oh, you for whom I write! whose hearts can melt At the soft thrilling voice whose power you prove, You know what charm, unutterably felt, Attends the unexpected voice of love: Above the lyre, the lute's soft notes above, With sweet enchantment to the soul it steals, And bears it to Elysium's happy grove; You best can tell the rapture Psyche feels, When Love's ambrosial lip the vows of Hymen seals. "Tis he, 'tis my deliverer! deep imprest Upon my heart those sounds I well recall,' The blushing maid exclaimed, and on his breast A tear of trembling ecstacy let fall. But, ere the breezes of the morning call Aurora from her purple, humid bed, Psyche in vain explores the vacant hall; Her tender lover from her arms is fled,

While sleep his downy wings had o'er her eyelids spread. *

*

Illumined bright now shines the splendid dome,
Melodious accents her arrival hail :

But not the torch's blaze can chase the gloom,
And all the soothing powers of music fail;
Trembling she seeks her couch with horror pale,
But first a lamp conceals in secret shade,
While unknown terrors all her soul assail.
Thus half their treacherous counsel is obeyed,

The amethyst was there of violet hue,

And there the topaz shed its golden ray,
The chrysoberyl, and the sapphire blue

As the clear azure of a sunny day,

Or the mild eyes where amorous glances play;
The snow-white jasper, and the opal's flame,

The blushing ruby, and the agate gray,

And there the gem which bears his luckless name Whose death, by Phoebus mourned, insured him deathless fame.

There the green emerald, there cornelians glow,
And rich carbuncles pour eternal light,
With all that India and Peru can show,
Or Labrador can give so flaming bright
To the charmed mariner's half-dazzled sight:
The coral-paved baths with diamonds blaze;
And all that can the female heart delight
Of fair attire, the last recess displays,
And all that luxury can ask, her eye surveys.

Now through the hall melodious music stole,
And self-prepared the splendid banquet stands,
Self-poured the nectar sparkles in the bowl,
The lute and viol, touched by unseen hands,
Aid the soft voices of the choral bands;
O'er the full board a brighter lustre beams
Than Persia's monarch at his feast commands:
For sweet refreshment all inviting seems

To taste celestial food, and pure ambrosial streams.
But when meek eve hung out her dewy star,
And gently veiled with gradual hand the sky,
Lo! the bright folding doors retiring far,
Display to Psyche's captivated eye

All that voluptuous ease could e'er supply
To soothe the spirits in serene repose:
Beneath the velvet's purple canopy,
Divinely formed, a downy couch arose,
While alabaster lamps a milky light disclose.

And now with softest whispers of delight,
Love welcomes Psyche still more fondly dear;
Not unobserved, though hid in deepest night,
The silent anguish of her secret fear.
He thinks that tenderness excites the tear,
By the late image of her parent's grief,

And half offended seeks in vain to cheer;
Yet, while he speaks, her sorrows feel relief,
Too soon more keen to sting from this suspension brief!
Allowed to settle on celestial eyes,

Soft sleep, exulting, now exerts his sway, From Psyche's anxious pillow gladly flies To veil those orbs, whose pure and lambent ray The powers of heaven submissively obey. Trembling and breathless then she softly rose, And seized the lamp, where it obscurely lay, With hand too rashly daring to disclose The sacred veil which hung mysterious o'er her woes. Twice, as with agitated step she went,

The lamp expiring shone with doubtful gleam, As though it warned her from her rash intent: And twice she paused, and on its trembling beam Gazed with suspended breath, while voices seem With murmuring sound along the roof to sigh; As one just waking from a troublous dream, With palpitating heart and straining eye, Still fixed with fear remains, still thinks the danger nigh.

Oh, daring Muse! wilt thou indeed essay

To paint the wonders which that lamp could show! And canst thou hope in living words to say The dazzling glories of that heavenly view? Ah! well I ween, that if with pencil true That splendid vision could be well expressed, The fearful awe imprudent Psyche knew Would seize with rapture every wondering breast, When Love's all-potent charms divinely stood confessed.

All imperceptible to human touch,

His wings display celestial essence light;
The clear effulgence of the blaze is such,
The brilliant plumage shines so heavenly bright,
That mortal eyes turn dazzled from the sight;
A youth he seems in manhood's freshest years;
Round his fair neck, as clinging with delight,
Each golden curl resplendently appears,

Or shades his darker brow, which grace majestic wears:

Or o'er his guileless front the ringlets bright
Their rays of sunny lustre seem to throw,
That front than polished ivory more white!
His blooming cheeks with deeper blushes glow
Than roses scattered o'er a bed of snow:
While on his lips, distilled in balmy dews,
(Those lips divine, that even in silence know
The heart to touch), persuasion to infuse,
Still hangs a rosy charm that never vainly sues.
The friendly curtain of indulgent sleep
Disclosed not yet his eyes' resistless sway,
But from their silky veil there seemed to peep
Some brilliant glances with a softened ray,
Which o'er his features exquisitely play,
And all his polished limbs suffuse with light.
Thus through some narrow space the azure day,
Sudden its cheerful rays diffusing bright,

Wide darts its lucid beams, to gild the brow of night.

His fatal arrows and celestial bow Beside the couch were negligently thrown, Nor needs the god his dazzling arms to show His glorious birth; such beauty round him shone As sure could spring from Beauty's self alone; The bloom which glowed o'er all of soft desire Could well proclaim him Beauty's cherished son: And Beauty's self will oft those charms admire, And steal his witching smile, his glance's living fire. Speechless with awe, in transport strangely lost, Long Psyche stood with fixed adoring eye; Her limbs immovable, her senses tossed Between amazement, fear, and ecstacy, She hangs enamoured o'er the deity.

Till from her trembling hand extinguished falls The fatal lamp-he starts-and suddenly Tremendous thunders echo through the halls, While ruin's hideous crash bursts o'er the affrighted walls.

Dread horror seizes on her sinking heart,
A mortal chillness shudders at her breast,
Her soul shrinks fainting from death's icy dart,
The groan scarce uttered dies but half expressed,
And down she sinks in deadly swoon oppressed:
But when at length, awaking from her trance,
The terrors of her fate stand all confessed,
In vain she casts around her timid glance;
The rudely frowning scenes her former joys enhance.

No traces of those joys, alas, remain!
A desert solitude alone appears;
No verdant shade relieves the sandy plain,
The wide-spread waste no gentle fountain cheers;
One barren face the dreary prospect wears;
Nought through the vast horizon meets her eye
To calm the dismal tumult of her fears;
No trace of human habitation nigh;

A sandy wild beneath, above a threatening sky.

The Lily.

[By Mrs Tighe.]

How withered, perished seems the form
Of yon obscure unsightly root!
Yet from the blight of wintry storm,
It hides secure the precious fruit.

The careless eye can find no grace,
No beauty in the scaly folds,
Nor see within the dark embrace

What latent loveliness it holds.

Yet in that bulb, those sapless scales,
The lily wraps her silver vest,
Till vernal suns and vernal gales

Shall kiss once more her fragrant breast.

Yes, hide beneath the mouldering heap
The undelighting slighted thing;
There in the cold earth buried deep,
In silence let it wait the spring.

Oh! many a stormy night shall close
In gloom upon the barren earth,
While still, in undisturbed repose,
Uninjured lies the future birth:
And Ignorance, with sceptic eye,
Hope's patient smile shall wondering view:
Or mock her fond credulity,

As her soft tears the spot bedew.
Sweet smile of hope, delicious tear!

The sun, the shower indeed shall come; The promised verdant shoot appear,

And nature bid her blossoms bloom. And thou, O virgin queen of spring!

Shalt, from thy dark and lowly bed, Bursting thy green sheath's silken string, Unveil thy charms, and perfume shed; Unfold thy robes of purest white,

Unsullied from their darksome grave, And thy soft petals' silvery light

In the mild breeze unfettered wave. So Faith shall seek the lowly dust

Where humble Sorrow loves to lie, And bid her thus her hopes intrust,

And watch with patient, cheerful eye; And bear the long, cold wintry night,

And bear her own degraded doom; And wait till Heaven's reviving light, Eternal spring! shall burst the gloom.

ROBERT BLOOMFIELD.

·

ROBERT BLOOMFIELD, author of The Farmer's Boy, and other poems illustrative of English rural life and customs, was born at Honington, near Bury St Edmunds, Suffolk, in the year 1766. His father, a tailor, died whilst the poet was a child, and he was placed under his uncle, a farmer. Here he remained only two years, being too weak and diminutive for field labour, and he was taken to London by an elder brother, and brought up to the trade of a shoemaker. His two years of country service, and occasional visits to his friends in Suffolk, were of inestimable importance to him as a poet, for they afforded materials for his Farmer's Boy,' and gave a freshness and reality to his descriptions. It was in the shoemaker's garret, however, that his poetry was chiefly composed; and the merit of introducing it to the world belongs to Mr Capel Lofft, a literary gentleman residing at Troston, near Bury, to whom the manuscript was shown, after being rejected by several London booksellers. Mr Lofft warmly befriended the poet, and had the satisfaction of seeing his prognostications of success fully verified. At this time Bloomfield was thirty-two years of age, was married, and had three children. The 'Farmer's Boy' immediately became popular; the Duke of Grafton patronised the poet, settling on him a

Rosy Hannah.

A spring, o'erhung with many a flower, The gray sand dancing in its bed, Embanked beneath a hawthorn bower, Sent forth its waters near my head. A rosy lass approached my view;

I caught her blue eyes' modest beam; The stranger nodded How-d'ye-do?'

And leaped across the infant stream. The water heedless passed away;

With me her glowing image stayed; I strove, from that auspicious day,

To meet and bless the lovely maid. I met her where beneath our feet

Through downy moss the wild thyme grew; Nor moss elastic, flowers though sweet,

Matched Hannah's cheek of rosy hue.

I met her where the dark woods wave,
And shaded verdure skirts the plain;
And when the pale moon rising gave
New glories to her rising train.
From her sweet cot upon the moor,

Our plighted vows to heaven are flown;
Truth made me welcome at her door,
And rosy Hannah is my own.

Lines addressed to my Children.

[Occasioned by a visit to Whittlebury Forest, Northamptonshire, in August 1800.]

Genius of the forest shades,

Lend thy power, and lend thine ear;
A stranger trod thy lonely glades,

Amidst thy dark and bounding deer;
Inquiring childhood claims the verse,
O let them not inquire in vain ;
Be with me while I thus rehearse
The glories of thy sylvan reign.

Thy dells by wintry currents worn,
Secluded haunts, how dear to me!
From all but nature's converse borne,
No ear to hear, no eye to see.
Their honoured leaves the green oaks reared,
And crowned the upland's graceful swell;
While answering through the vale was heard
Each distant heifer's tinkling bell.

Hail, greenwood shades, that, stretching far,
Defy e'en summer's noontide power,
When August in his burning car

Withholds the clouds, withholds the shower.
The deep-toned low from either hill,

Down hazel aisles and arches green
(The herd's rude tracks from rill to rill),

Roared echoing through the solemn scene.
From my charmed heart the numbers sprung,
Though birds had ceased the choral lay;
I poured wild raptures from my tongue,
And gave delicious tears their way.
Then, darker shadows seeking still,

Where human foot had seldom strayed,

I read aloud to every hill

Sweet Emma's love,' the Nut-brown maid.'

Shaking his matted mane on high,

The gazing colt would raise his head,
Or timorous doe would rushing fly,
And leave to me her grassy bed;
Where, as the azure sky appeared
Through bowers of ever varying form,
'Midst the deep gloom methought I heard
The daring progress of the storm.

How would each sweeping ponderous bough
Resist, when straight the whirlwind cleaves,
Dashing in strengthening eddies through

A roaring wilderness of leaves?
How would the prone descending shower
From the green canopy rebound?
How would the lowland torrents pour?

How deep the pealing thunder sound?
But peace was there: no lightnings blazed;
No clouds obscured the face of heaven;
Down each green opening while I gazed,
My thoughts to home and you were given.
O, tender minds! in life's gay morn,

Some clouds must dim your coming day;
Yet bootless, pride and falsehood scorn,

And peace like this shall cheer your way.
Now, at the dark wood's stately side,
Well pleased I met the sun again;
Here fleeting fancy travelled wide;

My seat was destined to the main.
For many an oak lay stretched at length,
Whose trunks (with bark no longer sheathed)
Had reached their full meridian strength
Before your father's father breathed!
Perhaps they'll many a conflict brave,
And many a dreadful storm defy;
Then, groaning o'er the adverse wave,
Bring home the flag of victory.
Go, then, proud oaks; we meet no more!
Go, grace the scenes to me denied,
The white cliffs round my native shore,
And the loud ocean's swelling tide.
'Genius of the forest shades,'

Sweet from the heights of thy domain,
When the gray evening shadow fades,
To view the country's golden grain;
To view the gleaming village spire
'Midst distant groves unknown to me-
Groves that, grown bright in borrowed fire,
Bow o'er the peopled vales to thee.

Where was thy elfin train, that play

Round Wake's huge oak, their favourite tree, Dancing the twilight hours away?

Why were they not revealed to me? Yet, smiling fairies left behind,

Affection brought you all to view; To love and tenderness resigned,

My heart heaved many a sigh for you. When morning still unclouded rose,

Refreshed with sleep and joyous dreams,
Where fruitful fields with woodlands close,
I traced the births of various streams.
From beds of clay, here creeping rills,

Unseen to parent Ouse, would steal;
Or, gushing from the northward hills,
Would glitter through Tove's winding dale.
But ah! ye cooling springs, farewell!
Herds, I no more your freedom share;
But long my grateful tongue shall tell
What brought your gazing stranger there.
'Genius of the forest shades,'

Lend thy power, and lend thine ear;
But dreams still lengthen thy long glades,
And bring thy peace and silence here.

[Description of a Blind Youth.]

For from his cradle he had never seen
Soul-cheering sunbeams, or wild nature's green.
But all life's blessings centre not in sight;
For Providence, that dealt him one long night,
Had given, in pity, to the blooming boy
Feelings more exquisitely tuned to joy.