What if the bee love not these barren. boughs? 5 Yet, if the wind breathe soft, the curling waves, That break against the shore, shall lull thy mind 40 By one soft impulse saved from vacancy. 10 First covered, and here taught this aged tree With its dark arms to form a circling bower, I well remember.1-He was one who owned No common soul. In youth by science nursed, And led by Nature into a wild scene 15 Of lofty hopes, he to the world went forth A favored Being, knowing no desire Which genius did not hallow; 'gainst the taint Of dissolute tongues, and jealousy, and hate, And scorn,-against all enemies prepared, 20 All but neglect. The world, for so it thought, Owed him no service; wherefore he at once In solitude. Stranger! these gloomy 25 Had charms for him; and here he loved to sit, His only visitants a straggling sheep, The stone-chat,2 or the glancing sandpiper And on these barren rocks, with fern and heath, And juniper and thistle, sprinkled o'er. 30 Fixing his downcast eye, he many an hour A morbid pleasure nourished, tracing here An emblem of his own unfruitful life: And, lifting up his head, he then would gaze On the more distant scene,-how lovely 'tis 35 Thou seest,-and he would gaze till it became Far lovelier, and his heart could not sustain The beauty, still more beauteous! Nor, that time, 1 "He was a gentleman of the neighborhood, a man of talent and learning, who had been educated at one of our universities, and returned to pass his time in seclusion on his own estate."-Wordsworth. A common European singing bird. If thou be one whose heart the holy forms Of young imagination have kept pure, 50 Stranger! henceforth be warned; and know that pride, Howe'er disguised in its own majesty, 55 Is in its infancy. The man whose eye Is ever on himself doth look on one, The least of Nature's works, one who might move The wise man to that scorn which wisdom holds Unlawful, ever. O be wiser, thou! 60 Instructed that true knowledge leads to love: True dignity abides with him alone What if the bee love not these barren. boughs? 5 Yet, if the wind breathe soft, the curling waves, That break against the shore, shall lull thy mind By one soft impulse saved from vacancy. Who he was That piled these stones and with the mossy sod 10 First cover vered, and here taught this aged tree With its dark arms to form a circling bower, I well remember.1-He was one who owned In youth by science No common soul. nursed, And led by Nature into a wild scene 15 Of lofty hopes, he to the world went forth A favored Being, knowing no desire Which genius did not hallow; 'gainst the taint Of dissolute tongues, and jealousy, and hate, And scorn, against all enemies prepared, 20 All but neglect. The world, for so it thought, Owed him no service; wherefore he at once 25 Had charms for him; and here he loved His only visitants a straggling sheep, The stone-chat,2 or the glancing sandpiper And on these barren rocks, with fern and heath, And juniper and thistle, sprinkled o'er, 30 Fixing his downcast eye, he many an hour A morbid pleasure nourished, tracing here An emblem of his own unfruitful life: And, lifting up his head, he then would gaze On the more distant scene,-how lovely 'tis 35 Thou seest,-and he would gaze till it became Far lovelier, and his heart could not sustain The beauty, still more beauteous! Nor, that time, 1 "He was a gentleman of the neighborhood, a man of talent and learning, who had been educated at one of our universities, and returned to pass his time in seclusion on his own estate."--Wordsworth. A common European singing bird. When Nature had subdued him to herself, Would he forget those Beings to whose minds, 40 Warm from the labors of benevolence, The world and human life appeared a scene Of kindred loveliness: then he would sigh, 45 On visionary views would fancy feed, Till his eye streamed with tears. In this deep vale He died, this seat his only monument. If thou be one whose heart the holy forms Of young imagination have kept pure, Howe'er disguised in its own majesty, 55 Is in its infancy. The man whose eye The wise man to that scorn which wis- Unlawful, ever. O be wiser, thou! 60 Instructed that true knowledge leads to love; True dignity abides with him alone THE REVERIE OF POOR SUSAN At the corner of Wood Street, when daylight appears, Hangs a thrush that sings loud, it has sung for three years: Poor Susan has passed by the spot, and has heard In the silence of morning the song of the bird. 5 'Tis a note of enchantment; what ails her? She sees A mountain ascending, a vision of trees; Bright volumes of vapor through Loth- And a river flows on through the vale of |