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3. “Yet that land to my mother will lonely appear';
She shrunk from the glance of a stranger while here';
And they welcome their child to the Land of the Blest.” 4. “How I long to partake of such meetings of bliss';
That land must be surely more happy than this';
To guide thy young steps to the Land of the Blest. 5. “ Thou must toil through a world full of dangers, my boy';
Thy peace it may blight', and thy virtues destroy';
THE ORPHAN'S SONG. Tambic. Each line has four feet; while the second and fourth
of each stanza has an additional short syllable.
For I am sad', and weť, and weary':-
When all was lonely', still, and dreary':
To purchase clothes', and food”, and dwelling',
Poor mè, and my young sister Ellen'.
In fortune's golden sunshine basking',
Because my lips are mute', unasking';
They have no heart for woes like mine;
Each word', each look', is cold—repelling';
And fortune smiled on mē' and Ellen!
As mine and morning's tears' could keep them!
Soon into fulness would be swelling ;
So mightmy little sister Ellen! 4. She's sleeping in the hollow treé,
Her only homè—its leaves her bedding';
To soothe the tears which she'll be shedding'.
That bell which heavily is knelling',
little sister Ellen! 5. When we in silence are laid down
In life's last fearless', blessed', sleeping',
Save those of pitying Heaven's own weeping.
No tongue the mournful tale be telling
Poor Mary' and her sister Ellen! 6. No one has bought of me to-day',
And night is now the town o'ershading';
Unnoticed and unwept am fading';
Ít lothes its wretched earthly dwelling'!
Oh God', protect lone orphan Ellen.
And my poor
ODE ON THE DEATH OF THOMPSON.
Iambic. Four feet to a line. 1. In yonder grave a druid lies', Where slowly winds the stealing wave';
The year's best sweets shall duteous rise'
To deck its poet's sylvan grave.
His airy harp shall now be laid',
May love through life the soothing shade. 3. Then maids and youths shall linger here'
, And while its sounds at distance swell', Shall sadly seem in pity's ear
To hear the woodland pilgrim's knell. 4. Remembrance oft shall haunt the shoré
When Thames in summer wreaths is drest',
To bid his gentle spirit rest!
To breezy lawn, or forest deep',
And 'mid the varied landscape weep. 6. But thou, who own'st that earthy bed,
Ah'! what will every dirge avail',
That mourn beneath the gliding sail ? 7. Yet lives there oné, whose heedless eyé
Shall scorn thy pale shrine glimmering near'?
And joy desert the blooming year.
No sedge-crowned sisters now attend',
Whose cold turf hides the buried friend'. 9. And see, the fairy valleys fade;
Dun night has veiled the solemn view'!
Meek nature's child’, again adieù ! 10. The genial meads', assigned to bless'
Thy life, shall mourn thy early doomo;
With simple hands', thy rural tomb. 11. Long', long', thy stone and pointed clay'
Shall melt the musing Briton's eyes': 0! vales and wild woods', shall he say',
In yonder grave your druid lies'
THE BIRD OF PARADISE.
In this ode is employed the iambic, trochaic, and anapestic
measure, in lines of various lengths. 1. An mè! I've lost my liberty';
And in this cagé
My active mind'
Is close confined';
My birthright to obtain',
Destroyed by some disaster or by age.
Of the freedom she enjoyed'
In the paradise of God',
Or in my breast create a fear'?
That robbed me of my liberty':
Justice triumphant over perfidy';
Yes, and he'll quickly come',
And publicly pronounce thy doom'.
By which thy malice had designed'
To draw down vengeance on mankind, With double fury light on thy devoted head. 4. In the mean while I sit',
And heré, in groans'
And silent moans',
Ah me', I once was used to mount and fly',
And as I passed along',
In sweetly pleasing strains',
All o'er the etherial plains.
I droop the wing',
Refuse to sing',
Comě, try thy voicè, and stretch thy wing';
Strike up some cheerful notè;
With fond desire'
Thy keeper 'll quickly come and let thee out. 6. This', o, this', is happy news'!
But Satan cannot keep me hēre ;
kind deliverer.” 7. Thus awhile
I will beguilé
Assured my Master 'll not forget'
To make my bed', and find me meat',
Whereforé, free from all cares',
O how happy I dwell',
Senseless I grow',
And scarcely know' What real freedom is.