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I see-but not by sight alone,
Loved Yarrow, have I won thee;
A ray of fancy still survives-
Her sunshine plays upon thee!
Thy ever youthful waters keep
A course of lively pleasure;
And gladsome notes my lips can breathe,
Accordant to the measure.

The vapors linger round the Heights,
They melt, and soon must vanish ;
One hour is theirs, por more is mine-
Sad thought, which I would banish,
But that I know, where'er I go,
Thy genuine image, Yarrow!
Will dwell with me—to heighten joy
And cheer my mind with sorrow.


A MONG the dwellers in the silent field

The natural heart is touched, and public way And crowded street resound with ballad strains, Inspired by one whose very name bespeaks Favor divine, exalting human love ; Whom, since her birth on bleak Northumbria's

coast, Known unto few, but prized as far as known, A single Act endears to high and low Through the whole land-to Manhood, moved in

spite Of the world's freezing cares

-to generous Youth

To Infancy, that lisps her praise—to Age

eye reflects it, glistening through a tear
Of tremulous admiration. Such true fame
Awaits her now ; but, verily, good deeds
Do no imperishable record find
Save in the rolls of heaven, where hers may live
A theme for angels, when they celebrate
The high-souled virtues which forgetful earth
Has witness'd. Oh! that winds and waves could

Of things which their united power called forth
From the pure depths of her humanity !
A Maiden gentle, yet, at duty's call,
Firm and unflinching, as the Lighthouse reared
On the Island-rock, her lonely dwelling-place ;
Or like the invincible Rock itself that braves,
Age after age, the hostile elements,
As when it guarded holy Cuthbert's cell.

All night the storm had raged, nor ceased, nor

paused, When, as day broke, the Maid, through misty air, Espies far off a Wreck, amid the surf, Beating on one of those disastrous isles Half of a Vessel, half-no more; the rest Had vanished, swallowed up with all that there Had for the common safety striven in vain, Or thither thronged for refuge. With quick glance Daughter and Sire through optic-glass discern, Clinging about the remnant of this Ship, Creatures, how precious in the Maiden's sight! For whom, belike, the old Man grieves still more Than for their fellow-sufferers engulfed Where every parting agony is hushed,

And hope and fear mix not in open strife.
“But courage, Father! let us out to sea-
A few may yet be saved." The Daughter's words,
Her earnest tone, and look beaming with faith,
Dispel the Father's doubts: nor do they lack
The noble-minded Mother's helping hand
To launch the boat; and with her blessing cheered,
And inwardly sustained by silent prayer,
Together they put forth, Father and Child !
Each grasps an oar, and struggling on they go-
Rivals in effort; and, alike intent
Here to elude and there surmount, they watch
The billows lengthening, mutually crossed
And shattered, and re-gathering their might;
As if the tumult, by the Almighty's will
Were, in the conscious sea, roused and prolonged
That woman's fortitude--so tried, so proved-
May brighten more and more!

True to the mark, They stem the current of that perilous gorge, Their arms still strengthening with the strengthening

heart, Though danger, as the Wreck is near’d, becomes More imminent. Not unseen do they approach; And rapture, with varieties of fear Incessantly conflicting, thrills the frames Of those who, in that dauntless energy, Foretaste deliverance; but the least perturbed Can scarcely trust his eyes, when he perceives That of the pair-tossed on the waves to bring Hope to the hopeless, to the dying, lifeOne is a Woman, a poor earthly sister, Or, be the Visitant other than she seems,

A guardian Spirit sent from pitying Heaven,
In Woman's shape. But why prolong the tale,
Casting meek words amid a host of thoughts
Armed to repel them? Every hazard faced
And difficulty mastered, with resolve
That no one breathing should be left to perish,
This last remainder of the crew are all
Placed in the little boat, then o'er the deep
Are safely borne, landed upon the beach,
And, in fulfilment of God's mercy, lodged
Within the sheltering Lighthouse.

Shout, ye
Send forth a song of triumph. Waves and Winds,
Exult in this deliverance wrought through faith
In Him whose Providence your rage hath served !
Ye screaming Sea-mews, in the concert join!
And would that some immortal Voice-a Voice
Fitly attuned to all that gratitude
Breathes out from floor or couch, through pallid lips
Of the survivors to the clouds might bear-
Blended with praise of that parental love,
Beneath whose watchful eye

the Maiden grew Pious and pure, modest and yet so brave, Though young so wise, though meek so resoluteMight carry to the clouds and to the stars, Yea, to celestial Choirs, GRACE Darling's name!


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GREAT men have been among us; hands that

And tongues that uttered wisdom-better none:
The later Sidney, Marvel, Harrington,
Young Vane, and others who called Milton friend.
These moralists could act and comprehend:
They knew how genuine glory was put on;
Taught us how rightfully a nation shone
In splendor: what strength was, that would not

But in magnanimous meekness. France, 't is strange,
Hath brought forth no such souls as we had then.
Perpetual emptiness ! unceasing change!
No single volume paramount, no code,
No master spirit, no determined road;
But equally a want of books and men !





(This extract is reprinted from "The FRIEND.") WISDOM and Spirit of the Universe !

Thou Soul, that art the Eternity of thought!
And giv’st to forms and images a breath
And everlasting motion! not in vain,
By day or star-light, thus from my first dawn
Of childhood didst thou intertwine for me
The passions that build up our human soul:


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