And when merry May-time is kissing with June, At the feast of sheep-shearing he loves to make one; Where the bleating, and mirth, and the clapping of shears, Like the sweetest of music resounds in his ears. And when Whitsuntide comes with a morrising mea sure, To the bells, pipe, and tabor, his heart leaps with pleasure; A brief sparkle relumed of his manhood's gay fires Stirs his limbs, as though shot through electrical wires. He cannot be idle: sometimes with his neighbours He fares forth, like a child, to promiscuous labours; But for all he can do, though he rallies his powers, He might just as well sit in the sun for three hours. The poor of the village in turn may repair To the house of the Vicar, his bounty to share; But old Nash comes and goes when he lists; it were sorrow And shame to put off the old man with "to-morrow." May he peacefully breathe his last breath! He shall sleep Where the fresh grassy hillocks lie couching like sheep, And the south wind that woos the wild flowers of the spring Comes with early perfume and repose on its wing. 1843. ASTHALL, OXFORDSHIRE. A SKETCH. IN early summer, when the meadow grass Was ripening, and no one that way might pass, By lanes and open pastures I drew nigh Unto a village that aslope did lie Upon the north-side of a vale: below, Through water-meads I saw the Windrush flow. Beyond, where'er the undulating wolds Uprose to meet the sky, the distant folds Were gemmed with fleeces. Thence I turned my horse Down a rough road-half road, half watercourse Towards a spacious farm, with gables quaint, And here and there a Gothic ornament, And underneath, the kine, with twinkling tails, Lashing the viewless flies, waited the evening milking pails.8 Alighting at the church, I took my way Through the encincture where the gravestones lay To where the sacred doors of carven wood Stole from a tomb within a gilded rail, G SONNET.-ON THE PAINTINGS OF REAT Poet of the pencil! Thou wert born With power to see into the soul of things; And dowered with an intellectual scorn Of slavish detail. For imaginings Sublimed from Nature thanks are due to thee: |