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Fare thee well, land of my birth,
The one spot most sacred of earth !—
At last I have burst through the spel
That bound my heart to thee!-Farewell!
Literary Gazette.

LINES,

WRITTEN AMONG THE RUINS IN AMPTHILL PARK.

BY J. H. WIFFEN, ESQ.

Out upon time.-LORD BYRON.

BRIGHTLY the moon-beams slept amid
Chambers 'mid rifled ruin hid;

For the alder rankled at the door,

And thistles grew on the chill damp floor;
And proudly the flourishing ivy wound
Pillar and column and roof around!
The vacant and desolate windows now
Waving grass and herbage flout;

And from the night raven's sheltering bough,
At times the howling fox looks out;
And each massy court and tower sublime,
Is eat by the silent tusk of TIME!

O, how unlike their years of prime,
By chieftains visited!—Out UPON TIME!
RUIN, and ravin, and wild decay,
Herald him on his blighting way!
Where points his finger,-lours the storm;
Where his eye fixes-feeds the worm;
Where treads his step,-there glory lies;
Where breathes his breath,-there beauty dies.
He breaks the oppressor's iron rod;
Crumbles the robes of the Priest of God;
On the palace of kings and the peasant's cot,
He turns his visage and they are not!

Even lofty song and the magic of rhyme

Yield at length to his power!-OUT-OUT UPON TIME! Leeds Intelligencer.

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THE HAPPY ISLE.

THERE was a light upon the stream,
Just one pale and silent beam
From the moon's departing car,
From the setting morning star,
Like Hope asking, timidly,
Whether it must live or die;
But that twilight pause is past!-
Crimson hues are colouring fast,
All the eastern clouds that fly,
Banners spread triumphantly.
The moon is but a speck of white,
The sun has looked away her light;
Farewell Night, thy shadowy gleams,
Dewy flowers, gentle dreams!
Be thy starry pinions furled,—
Day has blushed upon the world.
Never day-beam hath shone o'er
Lovelier or wilder shore !

1 -1 and half was sea,

THE MICHELMAS DAISY.

LAST Smile of the departing year,
Thy sister sweets are flown!
Thý pensive wreath is far more dear
From blooming thus alone!

Thy tender blush, thy simple frame,
Unnoticed might have passed;

But now thou com'st, with softer claim,
The loveliest and the last.

Sweet are the charms in thee we find,-
Emblem of Hope's gay wing;

"Tis thine to call past bloom to mind,
To promise future spring.

Literary Gazette.

L.

Fare thee well, land of my birth,
The one spot most sacred of earth!-
At last I have burst through the spell
That bound my heart to thee!-Farewell!
Literary Gazette.

LINES,

WRITTEN AMONG THE RUINS IN AMPTHILL PARK.

BY J. H. WIFFEN, ESQ.

Out upon time.-LORD BYRON.

BRIGHTLY the moon-beams slept amid
Chambers 'mid rifled ruin hid;

For the alder rankled at the door,

And thistles grew on the chill damp floor;
And proudly the flourishing ivy wound
Pillar and column and roof around!
The vacant and desolate windows now
Waving grass and herbage flout;

And from the night raven's sheltering bough,
At times the howling fox looks out;

And each massy court and tower sublime,
Is eat by the silent tusk of TIME!

O, how unlike their years of prime,
By chieftains visited!-OUT UPON TIME!
RUIN, and ravin, and wild decay,
Herald him on his blighting way!
Where points his finger,—lours the storm;
Where his eye fixes-feeds the worm;
Where treads his step,-there glory lies;
Where breathes his breath,-there beauty dies.
He breaks the oppressor's iron rod;
Crumbles the robes of the Priest of God;
On the palace of kings and the peasant's cot,
He turns his visage and they—are not!

Even lofty song and the magic of rhyme

Yield at length to his power!—Out—out uPON TIME! Leeds Intelligencer.

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THE HAPPY ISLE.

THERE was a light upon the stream,
Just one pale and silent beam
From the moon's departing car,
From the setting morning star,
Like Hope asking, timidly,
Whether it must live or die;
But that twilight pause is past!—
Crimson hues are colouring fast,
All the eastern clouds that fly,
Banners spread triumphantly.
The moon is but a speck of white,
The sun has looked away her light;
Farewell Night, thy shadowy gleams,
Dewy flowers, gentle dreams!
Be thy starry pinions furled,-
Day has blushed upon the world.
Never day-beam hath shone o'er
Lovelier or wilder shore!

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LAST Smile of the departing year,
Thy sister sweets are flown!
Thý pensive wreath is far more dear
From blooming thus alone!

-Thy tender blush, thy simple frame,
Unnoticed might have passed';

But now thou com'st, with softer claim,
The loveliest and the last.

Sweet are the charms in thee we find,-
Emblem of Hope's gay wing;

"Tis thine to call past bloom to mind,
To promise future spring.

Literary Gazette.

193

L.

Fare thee well, land oirth,

The one spot most sacred of earth!-
At last I have burst through the spell
That bound my heart to thee!-Farewell!
Literary Gazette.

LINES,.

WRITTEN AMONG THE RUINS IN AMPTHILL PARK.

BY J. H. WIFFEN, ESQ.

Out upon time.-LORD BYRON.

BRIGHTLY the moon-beams slept amid
Chambers 'mid rifled ruin hid;

For the alder rankled at the door,

And thistles grew on the chill damp floor;
And proudly the flourishing ivy wound
Pillar and column and roof around!
The vacant and desolate windows now
Waving grass and herbage flout

And fize on the fair-bosomed daughters of earth,

'Tis to turn to thy beauties-of beauty the Queen! And if from man's dwelling to Nature I flee,

Glen-mountain-and ocean-seem breathing of thee.

When a soft soothing glance from the eye of affection
Breaks my midnight of gloom with its halo divine,
How surpassingly sweet is the bright recollection

Of the passionate love ever beaming from thine !— 'Twill beam on me no more!-Yet though death has bereft me Of a form such as Seraphs from heaven might adore,

In this image-thy features of beauty are left me,

And the lines of thy soul in my heart's core of core ! Then reproach me not, sweet one! for time shall not see The hour that estranges one deep thought of thee. Literary Gazette.

A. A. W.

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