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But from mountain, dell, or stream,
Not a Autt'ring zephyr springs ; Fearful lest the noon-tide beam
Scorch it's soft, it's filken wings.
Not a leaf has leave to stir,
Nature's lullid-serene--and still ! Quiet e’en the shepherd's cur,
Sleeping on the heath-clad hill.
Languid is the landscape round,
Till the fresh-descending shower, Grateful to the thirsty ground,
Raises ev'ry fainting flower.
Now the hill-the hedge is green,
Now the warbler's chroats in tune; Blithsome is the verdant scene,
Brighten’d by the beams of Noon!
Free-(the furrow'd task is done ;)
Burnilh'd by the setting fun.
Now he sets behind the hill,
Sinking from a golden sky; Can the pencil's mimic skill
Copy the refulgent dye ?
Trudging as the ploughmen go,
(To the smoking hamlet bound) Giant-like their shadows grow,
Lengthen’d o'er the level ground.
Where the rising forest spreads
Shelter for the lordly dome! To their high-built airy beds,
See the rocks returning home!
As the lark with vary'd tune,
Carols to the evening loud ; Mark the mill resplendent moon,
Breaking through a parted cloud !
Now the hermit howlet peeps
From the barn or twisted brake; And the blue mist slowly creeps,
Curling on the silver lake,
As the trout in speckled pride,
Playful from its bosom springs ; To the banks, a ruffled tide
Verges in successive rings.
Tripping through the hilken grafs,
O'er the path divided dale. Mark the rose-complexon’d-lass
With her well-pois’d milking pail !
Linnets with unnumber'd notes,
And the cuckow-bird with two, Tuning sweet their mellow throats, Bid the setting-fun adieu.
A Receipt for Courtship. Two
WO or three dears, and two or three
Two or three balls, and two or three treats ;
Two or three ferenades, given as a lure ;
rules, Can never fail making a couple of fools.
The Editor's Wish.
ULL humble is my prayer 1 ween,
On the Prospect' of Death.
Of all my hope and fear!
If I have wander'd in those paths
of life I ought to shun; As Something, loudly, in my breast,
Remonstrates I have done :
Thou know'ft that Thou hast formed me
With passions wild and strong; And lift'ning to their witching voice
Has often led me wrong.
Where human weakness has come short,
Or frailty stept aside, Do Thou, All-Good ! for such Thou art, In shades of darkness hide.