From the same author we have this charming lyric: Down the dimpled greensward dancing bursts a flaxen-headed bevy, Bud-lipt boys and girls advancing, Love's irregular little levy. Rows of liquid eyes in laughter, how they glimmer, how they quiver! Tipsy band of rubious faces, flushed with Joy's ethereal spirit, The following fine songs are from SHERIDAN's play of The Duenna : Oh, had love ne'er smiled on me, my I ne'er had known such anguish ; But think how false, how cruel she, Not worse his fate, who on a wreck, Then land was cried-no more resign'd, He glow'd with joy to hear it ; Soft pity never leaves the gentle breast LOGAN'S "magical stanzas of picture, melody, and sentiment," which Burke so much admired, addressed to the Cuckoo, are now before us: Hail, beauteous stranger of the grove! thou messenger of Spring! Now heaven repairs thy rural seat, and woods thy welcome sing. What time the daisy decks the green, thy certain voice we hear; Hast thou a star to guide thy path, or mark the rolling vear? Delightful visitant! with thee I hail the time of flowers, And hear the sound of music sweet from birds among the bowers. What time the pea puts on the bloom, thou fliest thy vocal vale, Oh, could I fly, I'd fly with thee! we'd make, with joyful wing, LEYDEN'S celebrated Ode to an Indian Gold Coin, has attracted the especial notice and commendation of Colton and other critics. This remarkable poem was written in Cherical, Malabar; the author having left his native land, Scotland, in quest of a fortune in India. He died shortly afterwards in Java : : Slave of the dark and dirty mine! What vanity has brought thee here? So bright, whom I have bought so dear? For twilight converse, arm in arm ; The jackal's shriek bursts on mine ear By Chéricál's dark, wandering streams, Of Teviot loved, while still a child, Of castled rocks, stupendous piled, By Esk or Eden's classic wave; Where loves of youth and friendship smiled, Fade, day-dreams sweet, from memory fade! Far from my sacred natal clime, The daring thoughts that soared sublime Are sunk in ocean's southern wave. Slave of the mine! thy yellow light Gleams baleful as the tomb-fire drear: A gentle vision comes by night My lonely, widowed heart to cheer: Her eyes are dim with many a tear, That once were guiding-stars to mine; Her fond heart throbs with many a fear: I cannot bear to see thee shine! For thee, for thee, vile yellow slave, I crossed the tedious ocean-wave, To roam in climes unkind and new. The cold wind of the stranger blew Chill on my withered heart the grave Dark and untimely met my view,— Ha! com'st thou now so late to mock Of sun-rays tipt with death has borne ? To memory's fond regrets the prey, Vile slave, thy yellow dross I scorn!— Go, mix thee with thy kindred clay! Another of Leyden's fine lyrics is that to the Evening Star : How sweet thy modest light to view, fair star, to love and lovers dear! While trembling on the falling dew, like beauty shining through a tear. Thine are the soft, enchanting hours when twilight lingers o'er the plain, And whispers to the closing flowers, that soon the sun will rise again. Thine is the breeze, that, murmuring bland as music, wafts the lover's sigh, And bids the yielding heart expand in love's delicious ecstasy. Fair star! though I be doom'd to prove that rapture's tears are mix'd with pain, Ah, still I feel 'tis sweet to love! but sweeter to be loved again! BEATTIE'S fine stanzas, descriptive of a morning landscape, commence thus: But who the melodies of morn can tell? The wild brook babbling down the mountain side; The lowing herd, the sheepfold's simple bell, The pipe of early shepherd dim descried The hollow murmur of the ocean tide, The cottage curs at early pilgrim bark; Crowned with her pail, the tripping milkmaid sings; The partridge bursts away on whirring wings, |