I feel his absence in the hours of prayer, No more that meek and suppliant look in prayer, A wise good man contented to be poor. The Skylark. BIRD of the wilderness, Blythesome and cumberless, Sweet be thy matin o'er moorland and lea! Blest is thy dwelling-place, Oh, to abide in the desert with thee! Wild is thy lay and loud, Far in the downy cloud, Love gives it energy, love gave it birth; Where art thou journeying? Thy lay is in heaven, thy love is on earth. CRABBE. O'er fell and fountain sheen, O'er moor and mountain green, O'er the red streamer that heralds the day, Over the rainbow's rim, Musical cherub, soar, singing, away ; Then when the gloaming comes, Sweet will thy welcome and bed of love be; Blest is thy dwelling-place- Catharina. ADDRESSED TO MISS STAPLETON. SHЕ came—she is gone—we have met And meet perhaps never again; The sun of that moment is set, And seems to have risen in vain ; Catharina has fled like a dream, So vanishes pleasure, alas! But has left a regret and esteem That will not so suddenly pass. HOGG. The last evening ramble we made, Our progress was often delayed By the nightingale warbling nigh. We paused under many a tree, And much she was charmed with a tone Less sweet to Maria and me, Who so lately had witnessed her own. My numbers that day she had sung, Could infuse into numbers of mine. The longer I heard, I esteemed The work of my fancy the more, And even to myself never seemed Though the pleasures of London exceed Would feel herself happier here; Than aught that the city can show. So it is when the mind is imbued The achievements of art may amuse, But groves, hills, and valleys diffuse Since then in the rural recess From the clatter of street-pacing steeds, To measure the life that she leads! With her book, and her voice, and her lyre, She will have just the life she prefers, With little to hope or to fear, COWPER. Hymn to Diana. QUEEN and huntress, chaste and fair, Hesperus entreats thy light, Earth, let not thy envious shade Lay thy bow of pearl apart, And thy crystal shining quiver; Space to breathe, how short soever: Thou that makest a day of night, BEN JONSON. |