WRITTEN AT AN INN AT HENLEY,

To thee, fair Freedom, I retire

From flattery, cards, and dice, and din;

Nor art thou found in mansions higher

Than the low cot or humble inn.

'Tis here with boundless power I reign,

And every health which I begin Converts dull port to bright champagne!

I

Such freedom crowns it at an inn, fly from pomp, I fly from plate, Freedom I love, and form I hate, I fly from Falsehood's specious grin;

And choose my lodgings at an inn. Here, waiter! take my sordid ore, Which lackeys else might hope to win;

It buys what courts have not in store, It buys me freedom at an inn. Whoe'er has travelled life's dull round,

Where' er his stages may have been, May sigh to think he still has found His warmest welcome at an inn.

cree,

I blame thee not, the strife is done,
Or bow my drooping wing to dust
I knew thou wert the weaker one,
The vase of earth, the trembling clod,
Constrained to hold the breath of
God.

-Well hast thou in my service wrought;

me?

thought,

Oh, quit thy hold, For thou art faint, and chill, and cold, And long thy gasp and groan of pain Have bound me pitying in thy chain, Though angels urge me hence to soar, Where I shall share thine ills no more. Yet we shall meet. To soothe thy pain

Remember we shall meet again. Quell with this hope the victor's sting,

And keep it as a signet-ring,

When the dire worm shall pierce thy breast,

And nought but ashes mark thy rest, When stars shall fall, and skies grow dark,

And proud suns quench their glowworm spark,

Keep thou that hope, to light thy gloom,

Till the last trumpet rends the tomb. -Then shalt thou glorious rise, and fair,

Nor spot, nor stain, nor wrinkle bear,
And I, with hovering wing elate,
The bursting of thy bonds shall wait,
And breathe the welcome of the sky-
"No more to part, no more to die,
Co-heir of Immortality."

THE CORAL INSECT.

TOIL On! toil on! ye ephemeral train, Who build on the tossing and treacherous main;

Toil on! for the wisdom of man ye mock,

With your sand-based structures, and domes of rock;

Your columns the fathomless fountains lave,

And your arches spring up through
the crested wave;
Ye're a puny race, thus boldly to rear
A fabric so vast, in a realm so drear.

Ye bind the deep with your secret

zone.

The ocean is sealed, and the surge a stone;

Fresh wreaths from the coral pavement spring,

Like the terraced pride of Assyria's king:

Nor for the guerdon stoop, nor vainly ask

within, 'Tis I that must repay thee.

Mor

tal fame, If won, is but at best the hollow din, The vulgar freedom with a mighty

good-will,

[still, Go, working on, and uncomplaining Assured of fit reward, or soon or late!

SOLACE OF THE WOODS.

WOODS, waters, have a charn t soothe the ear,

When common sounds have vexed it. When the day

Grows sultry, and the crowd is in thy way,

And working in thy soul much coil and care,Betake thee to the forests. In the shade

ing streams

host,

Whose labors have been thought to need defence.

Rise

though he reap no honors,— what though death

terrible between him and the wreath,

That had been his reward, ere, in the dust,

He too is dust; yet hath he in his heart,

The happiest consciousness of what is just,

Sweet, true, and beautiful,-which will not part [faith, From his possession. In this happy He knows that life is lovely,- that all things

Are sacred; that the air is full of wings

Bent heavenward, and that bliss is born of scath!

HEART ESSENTIAL TO GENIUS.

WE are not always equal to our fate, Nor true to our conditions. Doubt

and fear

Beset the bravest in their high

career,

At moments when the soul, no more elate

With expectation, sinks beneath the time.

The masters have their weakness. "I would climb,"

Said Raleigh, gazing on the highest hill,

"But that I tremble with the fear to fall!"

Apt was the answer of the highsouled Queen,—

"If thy heart fail thee, never climb at all!"

The heart! if that be sound, confirms the rest,

Crowns genius with his lion wil and mien,

And, from the conscious virtue in the breast,

To trembling nature gives both strength and will!