While present sorrow's banish'd far away,
Unclouded azure gilds the placid day,
Or in the future's cloud-encircled face,
Fair scenes of bliss to come we fondly trace,
And draw minutely every little wile,

95

Which shall the feathery hours of time beguile.

100

73

So when forlorn, and lonesome at her gate,
The Royal Mary solitary sate,

And view'd the moon-beam trembling on the wave,
And heard the hollow surge her prison lave,
Towards France's distant coast she bent her sight,
For there her soul had wing'd its longing flight ;
There did she form full many a scheme of joy,
Visions of bliss unclouded with alloy,

Which bright through Hope's deceitful optics beam'd,
And all became the surety which it seemed;
She wept, yet felt, while all within was calm,

105

110

In every tear a melancholy charm.

To yonder hill, whose sides, deform'd and steep,

Just yield a scanty sust'nance to the sheep,

With thee, my friend, I oftentimes have sped,

115

To see the sun rise from his healthy bed;
To watch the aspect of the summer morn,
Smiling upon the golden fields of corn,
And taste delighted of superior joys,

Beheld through Sympathy's enchanted eyes:

120

With silent admiration oft we view'd

The myriad hues o'er heaven's blue concave strew'd;

When to the upland heights we bent our way,
To view the last beam of departing day ;
How calm was all around! no playful breeze
Sigh'd 'mid the wavy foliage of the trees,
But all was still, save when, with drowsy song,
The grey-fly wound his sullen horn along;
And save when, heard in soft, yet merry glee,
The distant church-bells' mellow harmony;
The silver mirror of the lucid brook,

That 'mid the tufted broom its still course took;
The rugged arch, that clasp'd its silent tides,

முல்

180

185

195

With moss and rank weeds hanging down its sides: 190
The craggy rock, that jutted on the sight;
The shrieking bat, that took its heavy flight;
All, all was pregnant with divine delight.
We lov'd to watch the swallow swimming high,
In the bright azure of the vaulted sky;
Or gaze upon the clouds, whose colour'd pride
Was scatter'd thinly o'er the welkin wide,
And ting'd with such variety of shade,
To the charm'd soul sublimest thoughts convey'd.
In these what forms romantic did we trace,
While fancy led us o'er the realms of space!
Now we espied the Thunderer in his car,
Leading the embattled seraphim to war,
Then stately towers descried, sublimely high,
In Gothic grandeur frowning on the sky-
Or saw, wide stretching o'er the azure height,
A ridge of glaciers in mural white,

200

205

Hugely terrific.But those times are o'er,

And the fond scene can charm mine eyes no more;

For thou art gone, and I am left below,

Alone to struggle through this world of woe.

The scene is o'er-still seasons onward roll,

210

And each revolve conducts me toward the goal;
Yet all is blank, without one soft relief,
One endless continuity of grief;

215

And the tir'd soul, now led to thoughts sublime,
Looks but for rest beyond the bounds of time.

Toil on, toil on, ye busy crowds, that pant

For hoards of wealth which ye will never want;

And, lost to all but gain, with ease resign

220

The calms of peace and happiness divine!
Far other cares be mine-Men little crave

In this short journey to the silent grave;

And the poor peasant, bless'd with peace and health,
I envy more than Croesus with his wealth.

225

Yet grieve not I, that fate did not decree

Paternal acres to await on me;

She gave me more, she placed within my breast

A heart with little pleas'd-with little blest :

230

I look around me, where, on every side,
Extensive manors spread in wealthy pride;
And could my sight be borne to either zone,
I should not find one foot of land my own.

But whither do I wander? shall the muse,
For golden baits, her simple theme refuse?

235

When to the upland heights we bent our way,
To view the last beam of departing day;
How calm was all around! no playful breeze
Sigh'd 'mid the wavy foliage of the trees,
But all was still, save when, with drowsy song,
The grey-fly wound his sullen horn along;
And save when, heard in soft, yet merry glee,
The distant church-bells' mellow harmony;

The silver mirror of the lucid brook,

That 'mid the tufted broom its still course took;
The rugged arch, that clasp'd its silent tides,

180

185

With moss and rank weeds hanging down its sides: 190 The craggy rock, that jutted on the sight;

The shrieking bat, that took its heavy flight;

All, all was pregnant with divine delight.

We lov❜d to watch the swallow swimming high,

In the bright azure of the vaulted sky;

195

Or gaze upon the clouds, whose colour'd pride
Was scatter'd thinly o'er the welkin wide,
And ting'd with such variety of shade,

To the charm'd soul sublimest thoughts convey'd.
In these what forms romantic did we trace,
While fancy led us o'er the realms of space!
Now we espied the Thunderer in his car,
Leading the embattled seraphim to war,
Then stately towers descried, sublimely high,
In Gothic grandeur frowning on the sky-
Or saw, wide stretching o'er the azure height,
A ridge of glaciers in mural white,

200

205

FRAGMENT

OF AN

ECCENTRIC DRAMA.

Written at a very early age.

In a little volume which Henry had copied out, apparently for the press, before the publication of Clifton Grove, the song with which this fragment commences was inserted, under the title of "The Dance of the Consumptives, in imitation of Shakespeare, taken from an Eccentric Drama, written by H. K. W. when very young." The rest was discovered among his loose papers, in the first rude draught, having, to all appearance, never been transcribed. The song was extracted when he was sixteen, and must have been written at least a year before, probably more, by the hand-writing. There is something strikingly wild and original in the fragment.

THE DANCE OF THE CONSUMPTIVES.

1.

DING-DONG! ding-dong!

Merry, merry, go the bells,

Ding-dong! ding-dong!

....

Over the heath, over the moor, and over the dale,
Swinging slow with sullen roar,"

Dance, dance away the jocund roundelay!

Ding-dong, ding-dong, calls us away.