Thou art laughing and scorning; To be such a traveller as I. With a soul as strong as a mountain river, Hearing thee, or else some other, I on the earth will go plodding on, TO A SEXTON. LET thy wheelbarrow alone- In a field of battle made, Where three thousand skulls are laid. -These died in peace each with the other, Father, sister, friend, and brother, Mark the spot to which I point! From this platform, eight feet square, Take not even a finger-joint: Andrew's whole fireside is there. Here, alone, before thine eyes, Simon's sickly daughter lies, From weakness, now, and pain defended, Whom he twenty winters tended. Look but at the gardener's pride How he glories, when he sees Roses, lilies, side by side, Violets in families! By the heart of man, his tears, By his hopes and by his fears, Thou, old grey-beard! art the warden Of a far superior garden. Thus, then, each to other dear, Andrew there, and Susan here, Neighbours in mortality. And, should I live through sun and rain WHO fancied what a pretty sight Was it the humour of a child? Or rather of some love-sick maid, Whose brows, the day that she was styled I ask'd-'twas whisper'd, the device That prompts such work, a spirit strong, Where life is wise and innocent. SONG FOR THE WANDERING JEW. THOUGH the torrents from their fountains Though, as if with eagle pinion, If on windy days the raven Though the sea-horse in the ocean Day and night my toils redouble! THE SEVEN SISTERS; OR, THE SOLITUDE OF SEVEN daughters had Lord Archibald, I could not say in one short day Sing, mournfully, oh! mournfully, Fresh blows the wind, a western wind, Across the wave, a rover brave Right onward to the Scottish strand The gallant ship is borne ; The warriors leap upon the land, Beside a grotto of their own, They lie like fawns reposing. But now, upstarting with affright Of your fair household, father knight, Away the seven fair Campbells fly, With menace proud, and insult loud, Cried they, "Your father loves to roam Enough for him to find The empty house when he comes home For us your yellow ringlets comb, For us be fair and kind!" Sing mournfully, oh! mournfully, The Solitude of Binnorie. Some close behind, some side by side, They run and cry, Nay let us die, And let us die together." A lake was near; the shore was steep; They ran, and with a desperate leap Sing mournfully, oh! mournfully, The stream that flows out of the lake, Sing, mournfully, oh! mournfully, -"Pleasure is spread through the earth In stray gifts, to be claim'd by whoever shall find." By their floating mill, Which lies dead and still, Behold yon prisoners three! The miller with two dames, on the breast of the Thames; From the shore come the notes To their mill where it floats, To their house and their mill tether'd fast; To the small wooden isle where, their work to beguile, In sight of the spires, All alive with the fires Of the sun going down to his rest, In the broad open eye of the solitary sky, They themselves make the reel, And their music's a prey which they seize; Yet mine is their glee! Thus pleasure is spread through the earth Thus a rich loving-kindness, redundantly kind, The showers of the Spring Rouse the birds, and they sing; If the wind do but stir for his proper delight THE KITTEN, AND THE FALLING LEAVES. THAT way look, my infant, lo! Sporting with the leaves that fall, Wither'd leaves-one-two-and threo From the lofty elder-tree! Through the calm and frosty air -But the kitten how she starts, Crouches, stretches, paws, and darts! Just as light and just as yellow; There are many now-now one Now they stop; and there are none- In her upward eye of fire! With a tiger-leap half-way Now she meets the coming prey, Lets it go as fast, and then Has it in her power again : Now she works with three or four, Like an Indian conjuror; Quick as he in feats of art, Far beyond in joy of heart. Were her antics play'd in the eye Of a thousand standers-by, Clapping hands with shout and stare, What would little Tabby care For the plaudits of the crowd? Over happy to be proud, Over wealthy in the treasure |