The sunshine gleaming as through amber clouds,
I ween,
O'er all the western sky; full soon,
His rude expression and untutor'd airs,
Beyond the power of language, will unfold
The form of beauty smiling at his heart,

How lovely! How commanding! But though
Heaven

In every breast hath sown these early seeds
Of love and admiration, yet in vain,
Without fair Culture's kind parental aid,
Without enlivening suns, and genial showers,
And shelter from the blast, in vain we hope
The tender plant should rear its blooming head,
Or yield the harvest promised in its spring.
Nor yet will every soil with equal stores
Repay the tiller's labour; or attend
His will, obsequious, whether to produce
The olive or the laurel. Different minds
Incline to different objects: one pursues
The vast alone, the wonderful, the wild;
Another sighs for harmony and grace,

Casenting Zephyr sighs; the weeping rill
Joins in his plaint, melodious; mute the groves;
And hill and dale with all the echoes mourn.

And gentlest beauty. Hence, when lightning fires
The arch of heaven, and thunders rock the ground,
When furious whirlwinds rend the howling air,
And Ocean, groaning from its lowest bed,
Heaves his tempestuous billows to the sky;
Amid the mighty uproar, while below
The nations tremble, Shakspeare looks abroad
From some high cliff, superior, and enjoys
The elemental war. But Waller longs,
All on the margin of some flowery stream,
To spread his careless limbs amid the cool
Of plantane shades, and to the listening deer
The tale of slighted vows and love's disdain
Resound soft warbling all the live-long day:

Such, and so various, are the tastes of men.

How bright, and yet how calm this eve;
Above, below, all seems to me

So lovely, that we might believe
Twas nature's jubilee-

Fer earth and sky, this glorious even,
Seem glowing with the hues of heaven.

How beautiful that vivid sky,

Lit by the parting sun's last ray.
We gare till it appears more nigh-
And fancy, as we gaze.

That deep-blue sky a boundless sea,
Covered with vessels gloriously.

Yes: each dark cloud a barque appears,
Each whiter one the foam-
There one to distant countries steers
While these sail quick towards home;
And all look most tensely bright,
Glowing in heaven's own glorious light.
Turn now towards earth, and even there
All, all is beauty and repose-
The perfume-breathing evening air

Is wafted o'er the rose;

164

SACRED HARMONY.

The sunshine gleaming as through amber clouds.
O'er all the western sky; full soon, I ween,
His rude expression and untutor'd airs,
Beyond the power of language, will unfold
The form of beauty smiling at his heart,
How lovely! How commanding! But theagh
Heaven

In every breast hath sown these early seeds
Of love and admiration, yet in vain,
Without fair Culture's kind parental aid,
Without enlivening suns, and genial showers,
And shelter from the blast, in vain we hope
The tender plant should rear its blooming head,
Or yield the harvest promised in its spring.
Nor yet will every soil with equal stores
Repay the tiller's labour; or attend
His will, obsequious, whether to produce
The olive or the laurel. Different minds
ncline to different objects: one pursues
he vast alone, the wonderful, the wild;
nother sighs for harmony and grace,
nd gentlest beauty. Hence, when lightning s
he arch of heaven, and thunders rock the grou
When furious whirlwinds rend the bowling at
And Ocean, groaning from its lowest bed,
Heaves his tempestuous billows to the sky;
Amid the mighty uproar, while below
The nations tremble, Shakspeare looks abroad
From some high cliff, superior, and enjoys
The elemental war. But Waller longs,
All on the margin of some flowery stream,
To spread his careless limbs amid the cool
Of plantane shades, and to the listening deet
The tale of slighted vows and love's disdain
Resound soft warbling all the live-long day

Consenting Zephyr sighs; the weeping rill
Joins in his plaint, melodious; mute the groves;
And hill and dale with all the echoes mourn.
Such, and so various, are the tastes of men.

SUMMER AND WINTER EVENINGS.

SHARP.

How bright, and yet how calm this eve;
Above, below, all seems to me

So lovely, that we might believe
'Twas nature's jubilee-

For earth and sky, this glorious even,
Seem glowing with the hues of heaven.

How beautiful that vivid sky,

Lit by the parting sun's last ray,
We gaze till it appears more nigh-
And fancy, as we gaze,

That deep-blue sky a boundless sea,
Covered with vessels gloriously.

Yes: each dark cloud a barque appears,
Each whiter one the foam-
There one to distant countries steers
While these sail quick towards home;
And all look most tensely bright,
Glowing in heaven's own glorious light.

Turn now towards earth, and even there
All, all is beauty and repose-
The perfume-breathing evening air
Is wafted o'er the rose;

While a thousand bright and glowing flowers
Are cooled with dew in these evening hours.

And hushed the sky-lark's merry song,
And silent all the humming bees:
The soft west wind, that sighs among
Those gently waving trees,
Seems to lament each parting ray
Until the next returning day.

The bright and glowing summer's past;
'Tis winter, and in storm and rain
The day was darkened,-now at last
The sun appears again-

Just for a moment glads our sight,

And, seen midst clouds, seems doubly bright.

Again look upwards-once again
Behold the wintry sun has set;
None of the summer barques remain:
A nobler image yet

Strikes on the Christian gazer's mind,
And leaves all others far behind.

The sun, whose way through that expanse
Has been, since first his course began,
Through storms and clouds, seems to our glance
A fitting type of man;

For thus the Christian's narrow way
With clouds is darkened day by day.

Thus, as the sun in winter's gloom
Sinks more than ever bright,
The Christian's hopes his way illume,
And gild his path with light:

As the sun sets the Christian dies,-
Both, on a brighter, happier day to rise.

167

COLERIDGE.

Low was our pretty cot! our tallest rose
Pep at the chamber-window. We could hear
At slent noon, and eve, and early morn,
The sea's faint murmur. In the open air
Our yrtles blossom'd! and across the porch
Thek jasmins twin'd: the little landscape round
Was green and woody, and refresh'd the eye.
It was a spot, which you might aptly call
The valley of seclusion! Once I saw
(Halowing his Sabbath-day by quietness)
A wealtby son of commerce saunter by,
Bristowa's citizen: methought, it calm'd
Ha thirst of idle gold, and made him muse
With wiser feelings: for he paus'd, and look'd
With a pleas'd sadness, and gaz'd all around,
Then eyed our cottage, and gaz'd round again,
And sigh'd, and said, it was a blessed place.
And we were blessed. Oft with patient ear
Long listening to the viewless sky-lark's note,
(Viewless, or haply for a moment seen
Gleaning on sunny wing,) "And such," I said,
"The inobtrusive song of happiness-
Unearthly minstrelsy! then only heard

When the soul seeks to hear! when all is hush'd
And the heart listens !"

From that low dell steep up the stony mount
But the time, when first
I climb'd with perilous toil and reach'd the top.

While a thousand bright and glowing flowers
Are cooled with dew in these evening hours.

And hushed the sky-lark's merry song,
And silent all the humming bees:
The soft west wind, that sighs among
Those gently waving trees,
Seems to lament each parting ray
Until the next returning day.

The bright and glowing summer's past;
'Tis winter, and in storm and rain
The day was darkened,-now at last
The sun appears again-
Just for a moment glads our sight,

And, seen midst clouds, seems doubly bright.

Again look upwards-once again

Behold the wintry sun has set;
None of the summer barques remain:

A nobler image yet
Strikes on the Christian gazer's mind,
And leaves all others far behind.

The sun, whose way through that expanse
Has been, since first his course began,
Through storms and clouds, seems to our glas
A fitting type of man;
For thus the Christian's narrow way
With clouds is darkened day by day.
Thus, as the sun in winter's gloom
Sinks more than ever bright,
The Christian's hopes his way illume,
And gild his path with light:
As the sun sets the Christian dies,-
Both, on a brighter, happier day to rise.

REFLECTIONS

ON HAVING LEFT A PLACE OF RETIREMENT.

COLERIDGE.

Low was our pretty cot! our tallest rose
Peep'd at the chamber-window. We could hear
At silent noon, and eve, and early morn,
The sea's faint murmur. In the open air
Our myrtles blossom'd! and across the porch
Thick jasmins twin'd: the little landscape round
Was green and woody, and refresh'd the eye.
It was a spot, which you might aptly call
The valley of seclusion! Once I saw
(Hallowing his Sabbath-day by quietness)
A wealthy son of commerce saunter by,
Bristowa's citizen: methought, it calm'd
His thirst of idle gold, and made him muse
With wiser feelings: for he paus'd, and look'd
With a pleas'd sadness, and gaz'd all around,
Then eyed our cottage, and gaz'd round again,
And sigh'd, and said, it was a blessed place.
And we were blessed. Oft with patient ear
Long listening to the viewless sky-lark's note,
(Viewless, or haply for a moment seen
Gleaming on sunny wing,)" And such," I said,
"The inobtrusive song of happiness-
Unearthly minstrelsy! then only heard

When the soul seeks to hear! when all is hush'd
And the heart listens !"

But the time, when first
From that low dell steep up the stony mount

I climb'd with perilous toil and reach'd the top,