The beauties of the wilderness are His, He sets the bright procession on its way, He marks the bounds which Winter may not pass, And, ere one flowery season fades and dies, Whose cause is God. . . . One Spirit-His Who wore the platted thorns, with bleeding brows— But shows some touch, in freckle,, streak, or stain, COWPER. 182. THE EBB TIDE. LOWLY thy flowing tide Came in, old Avon! scarcely did mine eyes, As watchfully I roamed thy greenwood side, With many a stroke and strong Now down thine ebbing tide Now o'er the rocks that lay Avon! I gaze, and know The lesson emblemed in thy varying way : Kingdoms which long have stood, And slow to strength and power attained at last, Thus like thy flow appears Time's tardy course to manhood's envied stage; SOUTHEY. 183. NAPOLEON'S FAREWELL. FAREWELL to the land where the gloom of my glory, Arose and o'ershadowed the earth with her nameShe abandons me now - but the page of her story, The brightest or blackest, is filled with my fame. I have warred with a world which vanquished me only When the meteor of conquest allured me too far; I have coped with the nations which dread me thus lonely, The last single captive to millions in war. Farewell to thee, France! when thy diadem crowned me, I made thee the gem and the wonder of earth; But thy weakness decrees I should leave as I found thee Decayed in thy glory and sunk in thy worth. Oh for the veteran hearts that were wasted In strife with the storm when their battles were won! Then the eagle whose gaze in that moment was blasted, Had still soared with eyes fixed on victory's sun! Farewell to thee, France! but when liberty rallies Then turn thee, and call on the chief of thy choice! LORD BYRON. 184. THE WATERFALL AND THE BRIER ROSE. "BEGONE, thou fond presumptuous elf," Exclaim'd a thundering voice, "Nor dare to thrust thy foolish self That, all bespatter'd with his foam, "Dost thou presume my course to block? I'll hurl thee headlong with the rock The flood was tyrannous and strong; Nor did he utter groan or sigh, Hoping the danger would be past; But seeing no relief, at last He ventured to reply. "Ah!" said the brier, "blame me not: Once lived a happy life! You stirr'd me on my rocky bed What pleasure through my veins you spread! That did your cares repay. "When spring came on with bud and bell, Before you hang my wreath, to tell What more he said I cannot tell : The stream came thundering down the dell, I listen'd, nor aught else could hear: WORDSWORTH, |