The features, once so beautiful, 'Twas then unwearied, day and night, And fearlessly upon my breast She lived she loved me for My grief was at an end; I was a lonely being once, my care! THE SQUIRE'S PEW. BY JANE TAYLOR. A SLANTING ray of living light The window's gothic frame-work falls, And since those trappings first were new, How many a cloudless day, To rob the velvet of its hue, Has come and passed away! How many a setting sun hath made Crumbled beneath the hillock green, And now the worm hath done her part In days of yore (as now we call), All seated round in order due, With 'broidered suit and buckled shoe. On damask cushions decked with fringe, Each holding in a lily hand; Responsive to the priest's command. M Now streaming down the vaulted aisle, Of their inscription-stone; And there, in marble hard and cold, The knight with all his train behold: Outstretched together are expressed With hands uplifted on the breast Long-visaged, clad in armour, he,- Set forth in order as they died, For past omissions to atone, By saying endless prayers in stone. Those mellow days are past and dim; But generations new, In regular descent from him, Have filled that stately pew; And in the same succession go To occupy the vault below. And now the polished, modern squire, Who duly to the hall retire, A season every year; And fill the seats with belle and beau, As 'twas so many years ago. Perchance, all thoughtless as they tread In turn receive to silent rest The feathered hearse and sable train, In all their wonted state, And stand before the gate; And when the race is swept away, Still shall the mellow evening ray ON LEAVING SCHOOL. BY W. WORDSWORTH. DEAR native regions, I foretel, My soul will cast a backward view, A lingering light he fondly throws |