II. Yes, Autumn's gloom to me is dearer Than their all cloudless skies. The wile Methinks, are emblemed in her tears, Her bright though fading hues, and even The tempests that deform her heaven. November, 1819. AN EPICEDIUM. By foreign hands his dying eyes were closed; РОРЕ. I. He left his home with a bounding heart, And felt it scarce a pain to part, Such sun-bright beams came o'er him. He turned him to visions of future years, The rainbow's hues were round them; And a father's bodings-a mother's tears— Might not weigh with the hopes that crowned them. I II. That mother's cheek is far paler now, There's an added gloom on that father's brow, Oh, that all human hopes should prove Like the flowers that will fade to-morrow; And the cankering fears of anxious love III. He left his home with a swelling sail, With a spirit as free as the vernal gale, And stranger-forms bent o'er his grave When the last sad rites were paid him. IV. He should have died in his own loved land, Not have withered thus on a foreign strand, With no thought save of Heaven to cheer him. But what recks it now? Is his sleep less sound In the port where the wild winds swept him, Than if home's green turf his grave had bound, Or the hearts he loved had wept him? V. Then why repine? Can he feel the rays Or share the griefs that may cloud the days No: his bark's at anchor-its sails are furled,-- It hath 'scaped the storm's deep chiding; And, safe from the buffeting waves of the world, In a haven of Peace is riding. EUROPA. FROM A PAINTING BY GUIDO IN THE DULWICH GALLERY. HER golden ringlets float around her form (Pennons of beauty to a bark of love) Loose to the ocean breezes. Her blue eyes, |