Whose power hath a true consent
With planet, or with element.

Sometime let gorgeous Tragedy
In sceptred pall come sweeping by,
Presenting Thebes, or Pelops' line,
Or the tale of Troy divine,
Or what (though rare) of later age,
Ennobled hath the buskined stage.
But, O sad virgin! that thy power
Might raise Musæus from his bower,
Or bid the soul of Orpheus sing
Such notes as, warbled to the string,
Drew iron tears down Pluto's cheek,
And made hell grant what love did
seek;

Or call up him that left half told
The story of Cambuscan bold,
Of Camball, and of Algarsife,
And who had Canace to wife,
That owned the virtuous ring and
glass;

And of the wondrous horse of brass,
On which the Tartar king did ride;
And if aught else great bards beside
In sage and solemn tunes have sung,
Of tourneys and of trophies hung;
Of forests and enchantments drear,
Where more is meant than meets the

ear.

There in close covert by some brook,
Where no profaner eye may look,
Hide me from day's garish eye,
While the bee with honeyed thigh,
That at her flowery work doth sing,
And the waters murmuring,
With such consort as they keep,
Entice the dewy-feathered sleep:
And let some strange mysterious
dream

Wave at his wings in airy stream
Of lively portraiture displayed,
Softly on my eyelids laid:
And as I wake, sweet music breathe
Above, about, or underneath,
Sent by some spirit to mortals good,
Or the unseen genius of the wood.

But let my due feet never fail
To walk the studious cloister's pale,
And love the high embowèd roof,
With antic pillars massy proof,
And storied windows richly dight,
Casting a dim religious light.
There let the pealing organ blow,
To the full-voiced choir below,
In service high, and anthems clear,
As may with sweetness, through
mine ear,

Dissolve me into ecstasies,

career,

'Till civil-suited Morn appear,

eyes.

And may at last my weary age

The hairy gown and mossy cell,
Where I may sit and rightly spell
Of every star that heaven doth shew,
And every herb that sips the dew;
Till old experience do attain
To something like prophetic strain.

These pleasures, Melancholy, give, And I with thee will choose to live.

daunt,

flowery May, who from her green lap throws

Or fright them from their hallowed

The

haunt.

yellow cowslip, and the pale primrose.

ger lies;

Nature in awe to Him

Had doffed her gaudy trim,

With her great Master so to sympa

While birds of calm sit brooding on the charmed wave.

Endowed with all their gifts: and oh!

too like

In sad event, when to the unwiser son Of Japhet brought by Hermes, she ensnared

Mankind with her fair looks, to be avenged

On him who had stole Jove's authentic fire.

[From Paradise Lost.]

APOSTROPHE TO LIGHT.

HAIL, holy Light, offspring of Heaven first-born,

Or of the Eternal, co-eternal beam, May I express thee unblamed ? since God is Light,

And never but in unapproachèd light

Dwelt from eternity, dwelt then in thee,

[create. Bright effluence of bright essence inOr hearest thou rather, pure ethereal stream,

Whose fountain who shall tell? Before the sun,

Before the heavens thou wert, and at the voice [vest Of God, as with a mantle, didst inThe rising world of waters dark and deep,

Won from the void and formless infinite.

Thee I revisit now with bolder wing, Escaped the Stygian pool, though long detained

bright,

carnationed

pea

Are

changed; we

saw the world

through thee, Casa Wappy!

And though, perchance, a smile may gleam

Of casual mirth,

white,

Casa Wappy!

The nursery shows thy pictured wall, Thy bat, thy bow,

Thy cloak and bonnet, club and ball,

But where art thou?

A corner holds thine empty chair;
Thy playthings, idly scattered there,
But speak to us of our despair,
Casa Wappy!

Even to the last, thy every word — To glad to grieve

Was sweet as sweetest song of bird

On summer's eve;

In outward beauty undecayed,

Death o'er thy spirit cast no shade,

An inward birth;

fade,

Casa Wappy!

-

LOVE OF COUNTRY AND OF HOME.

THERE is a land, of every land the pride, Beloved by heaven, o'er all the world beside;

Where brighter suns dispense serener light,

And milder moons emparadise the night:

A land of beauty, virtue, valor, truth, Time-tutored age and love-exalted youth: