If to the valley she repair

For shelter and defence,
Thy wrath pursues the mourner there,

And drives her, weeping, thence.

She seeks the brook—the faithless brook,

Of her unmindful grown,
Feels the chill magic of thy look,

And lingers into stone.

She wooes her embryo-flowers in vain

To rear their infant heads ;—
Deaf to her voice, her flowers remain

Enchanted in their beds.

In vain she bids the trees expand
Their green luxuriant charms ;—

Bare in the wilderness they stand,
And stretch their withering arms.

Her favourite birds, in feeble notes,

Lament thy long delay: And strain their little stammering throats,

To charm thy blasts away.

Ah, Winter! calm thy cruel rage,

Release the struggling year; Thy power is past, decrepid sage!

Arise, and disappear.

SONG.

Round Love's Elysian bowers

The fairest prospects rise;
There bloom the sweetest flowers,
There shine the purest skies:
And joy and rapture gild awhile
The cloudless heaven of Beauty's smile.

Round Love's deserted bowers

Tremendous rocks arise;
Cold mildews blight the flowers,
Tornadoes rend the skies:
And Pleasure's waning moon goes down
Amid the night of Beauty's frown.

Then youth, thou fond believer!

The wily syren shun:
Who trusts the dear deceiver
Will surely be undone!
When Beauty triumphs, ah! beware !—
Her smile is hope !—her frown despair!

I SONG. ALTERED FROM A GERMAN AIR, IN THE OPERA 01 'DIE ZAUBERFL6TE.' SET TO MUSIC BY MOZART.

A Careless whistling lad am I,
On skylark wings my moments fly;
There's not a Fowler more renown'd
In all the world—for ten miles round!
Ah! who like me can spread the net,
Or tune the merry flageolet'/
Then why—O why should I repine,
Since all the roving birds are mine 'I

LINES WRITTEN UNDER A DRAWING OF
YARDLEY OAK.

CELEBRATED BY COWPER*

This sole survivor of a race
Of giant oaks, where once the wood
Rang with the battle or the chase,
In stern and lonely grandeur stood.

From age to age it slowly spread
Its gradual boughs to sun and wind;
From age to age its noble head
As slowly wither'd and declined.

A thousand years are like a day,
When fled;—no longer known than seoa;
This tree was doom'd to pass away,
And be as if it ne'er had been ;—

But mournful Cowper, wandering nigh,
For rest beneath its shadow came,
When, lo! the voice of days gone by
Ascended from its hollow frame.

0 that the poet had reveal'd
The words of those prophetic strains,
Ere death the eternal mystery seal'd!
—Yet in his song the Oak remains.

And, fresh in undecaying prime,
There may it live, beyond the power
Of storm and earthquake, Man and Time
Till Nature's conflagration-hour.

SONG.

WIUTTEN FOR A CONVIVIAL SOCIETY, WHOSE MOTTO WAS "FEIENDSHIP, LOVE, AND TRUTH."

When "Friendship, Love, and Truth" abound

Among a hand of brothers,
The cup of joy goes gaily round,

Each shares the bliss of others:
Sweet roses grace the thorny way

Along this vale of sorrow:
The flowers that shed their leaves to-day

Shall bloom again to-morrow:
How grand in age, how fair in youth,
Are holy " Friendship, Love, and Truth!"

On halcyon wings our moments pass,

Life's cruel cares beguiling;
Old Time lays down his scythe and glass,

In gay good humour smiling:
With ermine beard and forelock grey,

His reverend front adorning,
lie looks like Winter turn'd to May,

Night soften'd into morning!
How grand in age, how fair in youth,
Are holy " Friendship, Love, and Truth!;'

From these beautiful fountains flow

Ambrosial rills of pleasure:—
Can man desire, can Heaven bestow,

A more resplendent treasure?
Adorn'd with gems so richly bright,

We'll form a constellation,
Where every star, with modest light,
Shall gild his proper station.
How giand in age, how fair in youth,
Are holy " Friendship, Love, and Truth !*