With thy clear keen joyaunce

Languor cannot be ;

Shadow of annoyance

Never came near thee;

Thou lovest, but never knew love's fad fatiety.

Waking or asleep

Thou of death muft deem

Things more true and deep

Than we mortals dream,

Or how could thy notes flow in such a crystal ftream?

We look before and after,

And pine for what is not;

Our fincereft laughter

With fome pain is fraught;

Our sweetest songs are those which tell of faddeft thought.

Yet if we could fcorn

Hate, and pride, and fear,—

If we were things born

Not to fhed a tear,

I know not how thy joy we ever could come

near.

Better than all measures

Of delightful found;

Better than all treasures

That in books are found,

To poet were thy fkill, thou scorner of the

ground.

Teach me half the gladness

That thy foul must know; Such harmonious madness

From my lips fhould flow,

The world would liften then as I am liftening

now.

XXVIII.

SHELLEY.

THE SKYLARK.

IRD of the Wilderness,

Blithefome and cumberless,

Sweet be thy matin o'er moorland and

lea,

Emblem of happiness,

Bleft be thy dwelling-place,

Oh to abide in the defert with thee.

Wild is thy lay and loud,

Far in the downy cloud,

Love gives it energy, love gave it birth;

Where on thy dewy wing,

Where art thou foaring,

Thy lay is in Heaven, thy love is on earth.

O'er moor and mountain green,
O'er fell and mountain fheen,

O'er the red ftreamer that heralds the day;
Over the cloudlet dim,

Over the rainbow's rim,

Mufical cherub, foar finging away.

Then when the gloaming comes,

Far where the heather blooms,

Sweet will thy welcome and bed of love be;
Emblem of happiness,

Bleft be thy dwelling-place,

Oh! to abide in the defert with thee.

HOGG.

XXIX.

THE CORAL ISLE.

SAW the living pile ascend,

The Maufoleum of its architects;

Still dying upwards as their labours clofed.

Slime the material, but the flime was turned

To adamant by their petrific touch.

Frail were their frames, ephemeral their lives,

Their masonry imperishable. All

Life's needful functions, food, exertion, reft,
By nice economy of Providence,

Were overruled to carry on the process,

Which out of water brought forth folid rock.
Atom by atom thus the mountain

grew, A coral island, stretching east and west.

Compared with this amazing edifice,

Raised by the weakest creatures in existence,
What are the works of intellectual man,
His temples, palaces, and sepulchres ?
Duft in the balance, atoms in the gale,
Compared with these achievements in the deep,
Were all the monuments of olden time.

The Pyramids would be mere pinnacles, The giant ftatues wrought from rocks of granite, puny ornaments for such a pile

But

As this stupendous mound of catacombs,

Filled with dry mummies of the builder, worms.

JAMES MONTGOMERY.

XXX.

THE MOLE HILL.

ELL me, thou duft beneath my feet,
Thou duft that once had ft breath-
Tell me how many mortals meet,
In this fmall hill of death?

By wafting winds and flooding rains,
From ocean, earth, and sky;
Collected here, the frail remains
Of flumbering millions lie.

The mole that scoops, with curious toil,
Her fubterranean bed,

Thinks not fhe ploughs fo rich a foil,
And mines among the dead.

But oh! where'er fhe turns the ground,

My kindred earth I fee;

Once every atom of this mound

Lived, breathed, and felt like me.

Like me, these elder-born of clay
Enjoyed the cheerful light;
Bore the brief burden of a day

And went to reft at night.