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The rose is the fairest of earthly flowers,

It is all of beauty and of sweetness, So my dear maid in the heavenly bowers,

Excels in beauty and in meekness ! She has kiss'd my cheek, she has kaim'd my hair,

And made a breast of heaven my pillow, And promised her God to take me there

Before the leaf falls from the willow !

Farewell, ye homes of living men,

I have no relish for your pleasures ; In the human face I naething ken

That with my spirit's yearning measures. I long for onward bliss to be,

A day of joy-a brighter morrow, And from this bondage to be free

Farewell this world of sin and sorrow!

ODE ON HEARING OF THE DEATH OF

MR PITT.

This and the two following are inserted as pieces that might be set to music, though as yet they never have been, and probably never will be.

And art thou departed, ere yet from the field

The tidings of glory are borne ?
And art thou departed, our bulwark, our shield,

And live I thy exit to mourn ?
My country's horizon for ever is shorn

Of the splendour that over it shone;
The darkness is shed, and the storm is gone forth,
Our sun and our moon have both dropp'd to the earth,
The child of the mighty hath'come to the birth,

But the strength of the parent is gone.

ODE ON HEARING OF THE DEATH OF MR PITT. 299

0, Pitt, I may wail thee, and wail without blame,

For here cannot party deride! 'Twas in the lone wild I first heard of thy name,

With Nature alone for my guide,
Who taught me to love thee-my boast and my pride

From thence thou hast been and shalt be;
I read and I wonder'd, but still I read on,
My bosom heaved high with an ardour unknown,
But I found it congenial in all with thine own,

And I set up my nest under thee.

I wonder'd when senators sternly express'd

Disgust at each measure of thine;
For I was as simple as babe at the breast,

And their motives I could not divine.
I knew not, and still small the knowledge is mine,

Of the passions that mankind dissever,
That minds there are framed like the turbulent ocean,
That foams on its barriers with ceaseless commotion,
On the rock that stands highest commanding devotion,

There dash its rude billows for ever.

300 ODE ON HEARING OF THE DEATH OF MR PITT.

They said thou wert proud ;—I have ponder'd it long,

I have tried thee by plummet and line,
Have weigh’d in the balance the right and the wrong,

And am forced in the charge to combine:
They call’d thee ambitious;—a censure condign-

I know it-I own it was true;
But it was of thy country alone thou wert proud,
Thy ambition was all for her glory and good,
For there thy wrung heart a wild torrent withstood,

Which broke what it could not subdue.

Be hallowd thy memory, illustrious shade!

A shepherd can ill understand,
But he weens that as clear and unbiass'd a head,

As clean and less sordid a hand,
Or a heart more untainted did never command

The wealth of a nation on earth;
And he knows that long hence, when his head's low as

thine,

That the good and the great, and the brave and benign, And the lovers of country and king, will combine

To hallow the hour of thy birth.

BUSACO.

BEYOND Busaco's mountains dun,
When far had rollid the sultry sun,
And night her pall of gloom had thrown

O’er nature's still convexity,
High on the heath our tents were spread,
The

green turf was our cheerless bed, And o'er the hero's dew-chill'd head

The banners flapp'd incessantly.

The loud war-trumpet woke the morn,
The quivering drum, the pealing horn,
From rank to rank the cry is borne,

“ Arouse! for death or victory !"

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