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While Spring shall pour his showers as oft he wont,

And bathe thy breathing tresses, meekest Eve!

While Summer loves to sport
Beneath thy lingering light;

While sallow Autumn fills thy lap with leaves;

Or Winter, yelling through the troublous air,

Affrights thy shrinking train,
And rudely rends thy robes;

So long, regardful of thy quiet rule, Shall Fancy, Friendship, Science. smiling Peace,

Thy gentlest influence own,
And love thy favorite name!

ODE ON THE DEATH OF THOMSON.

And oft suspend the dashing oar,
To bid his gentle spirit rest!

And oft, as Ease and Health retire
To breezy lawn, or forest deep,
The friend shall view yon whitening
spire

And mid the varied landscape weep.

But thou, who own'st that earthly bed,

Ah! what will every dirge avail; Or tears, which Love and Pity shed, That mourn beneath the gliding sail ?

Yet lives there one whose heedless eye

Shall scorn thy pale shrine glim mering near? ·

With him, sweet bard, may Fancy die, And Joy desert the blooming year.

[The scene is supposed to lie on the But thou, lorn stream, whose sullen Thames, near Richmond.]

IN yonder grave a Druid lies.

Where slowly winds the stealing

wave;

The year's best sweets shall duteous rise

To deck its poet's sylvan grave.

In yon deep bed of whispering reeds His airy harp shall now be laid, That he, whose heart in sorrow bleeds,

May love through life the soothing shade.

Then maids and youths shall linger here,

And while its sounds at distance swell,

Shall sadly seem in Pity's ear

To hear the woodland pilgrim's knell.

Remembrance oft shall haunt the shore

When Thames in summer wreaths is drest,

tide

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ELIZA COOK.

SONG OF THE HEMPseed.

Ay, scatter me well, 'tis a moist spring day;

Wide and far be the hempseed sown: And bravely I'll stand on the autumn land,

When the rains have dropped and

the winds have blown

Man shall carefully gather me up; His hand shall rule and my form shall change;

Not as a mate for the purple of state, Nor into aught that is "rich and strange.

But I will come forth all woven and spun,

With my fine threads curled in serpent length;

And the fire-wrought chain and the lion's thick mane

Shall be rivalled by me in mighty

strength.

I have many a place in the busy world, Of triumph and fear, of sorrow and joy;

I carry the freeman's flag unfurled; I am linked to childhood's darling toy. Then scatter me wide, and hackle me well;

For a varied tale can the hempseed tell.

Bravely I swing in the anchor-ring, Where the foot of the proud man cometh not;

Where the dolphin leaps and the seaweed creeps

O'er the rifted sand and the coral grot.

Down, down below I merrily go

When the huge ship takes her rocking rest:

The waters may chafe, but she dwelleth as safe

As the young bird in its woodland nest.

I wreathe the spars of that same fair ship, [about: Where the gallant sea-hearts cling

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But on I went the dreary mile,
And sung right cantie a' the while
I gae my plaid a closer fauld;
My hand was warm, my heart was
bauld,

I didna heed the storm and cauld,

While ganging to my Katie.

But when I trod the same way back,
It seemed a sad and waefu' track;
The brae and glen were lone and lang;
I didna sing my cantie sang;
I felt how sharp the sleet did fa',
And couldna face the wind at a'.
Oh, sic a change! how could it be?
I ken fu' well, and sae may ye-
The sunshine had been gloom to me
While ganging frue my Katie.

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But will they worship woman's worth
Unblent with woman's charms?
No! ah, no! 'tis little they prize
Crook-backed forms and rayless eyes.

Oh! 'tis a saddening thing to be
A poor and ugly one;

In the sand Time puts in his glass for me,

Few golden atoms run. For my drawn lids bear no shadowing fringe;

My locks are thin and dry; My teeth wear not the rich pearl tinge, I know full well I have nought of Nor my lips the henna dye. grace

That maketh woman "divine;" The wooer's praise and doting gaze Where'er I go all eyes will shun Have never yet been mine. The loveless mien of the ugly one.

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Would that I had passed away
Ere I knew that I was born;
For I stand in the blessed light of day
Like a weed among the corn,
The black rock in the wide blue sea,
The snake in the jungle green:
Oh! who will stay in the fearful way
Where such ugly things are seen?
Yet mine is the fate of lonelier state
Than that of the snake or rock;
For those who behold me in their
path

Not only shun, but mock.

O Ugliness! thy desolate pain

Had served to set the stamp on Cain!

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