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Fire raged: and, when the spangled floor
Of ancient ether was no more,

New heavens succeeded, by the dream brought forth:
vine din det serve for couch or And all the happy Souls that rode

Transfigured through that fresh abode, 2 wpawn eye;

Had heretofore, in humble trust,

Shone meekly mid their native dust,
na naman dawl with kindred look,

The Glow-worms of the earth!
This knowledge, from an Angel's voice

Proceeding, made the heart rejoice out and wai huhbouring stream

Of Him who slept upon the open lea: boradie a mut sud dubrous dream,

Waking at morn he murmured not; Ingat, within whose shadowy bounds And, till life's journey closed, the spot *** posky na sed the earth born Star,

Was to the Pilgrim's soul endeared, !nk Which glittered from afar ;

Where by that dream he had been cheered
Hudba www do witnons !) from the frame

Beneath the shady tree.
I shot wateul Orb, there enme
Budak awmds,

1818.

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1833.

XXVIII.

Concealed from friends who might disturb Preserves her beauty mid autumnal leaves
Thy quiet with no ill intent,

And to her mournful habits fondly cleaves.
Secure from evil eyes and hands

When files of stateliest plants have ceased to bloom,
On barbarous plunder bent,

One after one submitting to their doom,

When her coevals each and all are fled,
Rest, Mother-bird ! and when thy young What keeps her thus reclined upon her lonesome
Take flight, and thou art free to roam,

bed ?
When withered is the guardian Flower,
And empty thy late home,

The old mythologists, more impress’d than we

Of this late day by character in tree Think how ye prospered, thou and thine, Or herb, that claimed peculiar sympathy, Amid the unviolated grove

Or by the silent lapse of fountain clear,
Housed near the growing Primrose-tuft

Or with the language of the viewless air
In foresight, or in love.

By bird or beast made vocal, sought a cause
To solve the mystery, not in Nature's laws
But in Man's fortunes. Hence a thousand tales
Sung to the plaintive lyre in Grecian vales.

Nor doubt that something of their spirit swayed
LOVE LIES BLEEDING.

The fancy-stricken Youth or heart-sick Maid,
You call it, “ Love lies bleeding,”-so you may, Who, while each stood companionless and eyed
Though the red Flower, not prostrate, only droops, | This undeparting Flower in crimson dyed,
As we have seen it here from day to day,

Thought of a wound which death is slow to cure,
From month to month, life passing not away : A fate that has endured and will endure,
A flower how rich in sadness ! Even thus stoops, And, patience coveting yet passion feeding,
(Sentient by Grecian sculpture’s marvellous power) Called the dejected Lingerer, Love lies bleeding.
Thus leans, with hanging brow and body bent
Earthward in uncomplaining languishment,
The dying Gladiator. So, sad Flower!
('Tis Fancy guides me willing to be led,
Though by a slender thread,)
So drooped Adonis bathed in sanguine dew
Of his death-wound, when he from innocent air

RURAL ILLUSIONS.
The gentlest breath of resignation drew;
While Venus in a passion of despair

Sylph was it ? or a Bird more bright
Rent, weeping over him, her golden hair

Than those of fabulous stock? Spangled with drops of that celestial shower.

A second darted by ;-and lo !
She suffered, as Immortals sometimes do ;

Another of the flock,
But pangs more lasting far, that Lover knew Through sunshine flitting from the bough
Who first, weighed down by scorn, in some lone

To nestle in the rock.
bower

Transient deception ! a gay freak Did press this semblance of unpitied smart

Of April's mimicries !
Into the service of his constant heart,

Those brilliant strangers, hailed with joy
His own dejection, downcast Flower ! could share Among the budding trees,
With thine, and gave the mournful name which Proved last year's leaves, pushed from the spray
thou wilt ever bear.

To frolic on the breeze.

XXX.

XXIX.

COMPANION TO THE FOREGOING.
Never enlivened with the liveliest ray
That fosters growth or checks or cheers decay,
Nor by the heaviest rain-drops more deprest,
This Flower, that first appeared as summer's guest,

Maternal Flora ! show thy face,

And let thy hand be seen,
Thy hand here sprinkling tiny flowers,

That, as they touch the green,
Take root (so seems it) and look up

In honour of their Queen.
Yet, sooth, those little starry specks,

That not in vain aspired

To be confounded with live growths,

Most dainty, most admired, Were only blossoms dropped from twigs

Of their own offspring tired.

Now she works with three or four,
Like an Indian conjurer ;
Quick as he in feats of art,
Far beyond in joy of heart.
Were her antics played in the eye
Of a thousand standers-by,
Clapping hands with shout and stare,
What would little Tabby care
For the plaudits of the crowd ?
Over happy to be proud,
Over wealthy in the treasure
Of her own exceeding pleasure !

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'Tis a pretty baby-treat ; Nor, I deem, for me unmeet; Here, for neither Babe nor me, Other play-mate can I see. Of the countless living things, That with stir of feet and wings (In the sun or under shade, Upon bough or grassy blade) And with busy revellings, Chirp and song, and murmurings, Made this orchard's narrow space, And this vale so blithe a place ; Multitudes are swept away Never more to breathe the day : Some are sleeping ; some in bands Travelled into distant lands ; Others slunk to moor and wood, Far from human neighbourhood; And, among the Kinds that keep With us closer fellowship, With us openly abide, All have laid their mirth aside.

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That way look, my Infant, lo!
What a pretty baby-show!
See the Kitten on the wall,
Sporting with the leaves that fall,
Withered leaves one-two-and three-
From the lofty elder-tree !
Through the calm and frosty air
Of this morning bright and fair,
Eddying round and round they sink
Softly, slowly: one might think,
From the motions that are made,
Every little leaf conveyed
Sylph or Faery hither tending,
To this lower world descending,
Each invisible and mute,
In his wavering parachute.

- But the Kitten, how she starts,
Crouches, stretches, paws, and darts !
First at one, and then its fellow
Just as light and just as yellow ;
There are many now—now one-
Now they stop and there are none :
What intenseness of desire
In her upward eye of fire !
With a tiger-leap half way
Now she meets the coming prey,
Lets it go as fast, and then
Has it in her power again :

Where is he that giddy Sprite, Blue-cap, with his colours bright, Who was blest as bird could be, Feeding in the apple-tree ; Made such wanton spoil and rout, Turning blossoms inside out ; Hung-head pointing towards the groundFluttered, perched, into a round Bound himself, and then unbound ; Lithest, gaudiest Harlequin ! Prettiest Tumbler ever seen ! Light of heart and light of limb; What is won become of Him ? Lambs, that through the mountains went Frisking, bleating merriment, When the year was in its prime, They are sobered by this time. If you look to vale or hill,

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