s the selfsame song that found a path rough the sad heart of Ruth, when, sick for home, e stood in tears amid the alien corn; The same that oft-times hath Charmed magic casements, opening on the foam Of perilous seas, in faery lands forlorn. KEATS. THE NIGHTINGALE. As it fell upon a day In the merry month of May, Every thing did banish moan, None takes pity on thy pain: Senseless trees, they cannot hear thee, Ruthless beasts, they will not cheer thee; King Pandiva, he is dead, All thy friends are lapp'd in lead: R. BARNEFIELD, THE NIGHTINGALE'S SONG. ROUND my own pretty rose I have hovered all day, I have seen its sweet leaves one by one fall away: They are gone, they are gone; but I go not with them, I linger to weep o'er its desolate stem. They say if I rove to the south I shall meet With hundreds of roses more fair and more sweet; But my heart, when I'm tempted to wander, replies, Here my first love, my last love, my only love lies. When the last leaf is withered, and falls to the earth, The false one to southerly climes may fly forth; But truth cannot fly from his sorrows: he dies, Where his first love, his last love, his only love lies. T. H. BAYLY. THE NIGHTINGALE'S DEATHSONG. MOURNFULLY, sing mournfully, The rose, the glorious rose, is gone, The skies have lost their splendor, The waters changed their tone, And wherefore, in the faded world,' Should music linger on? Where is the golden sunshine, And where the flower-cup's glow? And where the joy of the dancing leaves, And the fountain's laughing flow? Tell of the brightness parted, Thou bee, thou lamb at play! Thou lark, in thy victorious mirth! Are ye, too, passed away? With sunshine, with sweet odor, Alone I shall not linger When the days of hope are past, To watch the fall of leaf by leaf, To wait the rushing blast. In nature's anthem, and made music such As pleased the ear of God! original, Unmarred, unfaded work of Deity! And unburlesqued by mortal's puny skill; From age to age enduring, and unchanged, Majestical, inimitable, vast, Loud uttering satire, day and night, on each Succeeding race, and little pompous work Of man; unfallen, religious, holy sea! Thou bowedst thy glorious head to none, fearedst none, Heardst none, to none didst honor, but to God Thy Maker, only worthy to receive Thy great obeisance. OCEAN. POLLOK. Waves on the beach, and the wild sea-foam, With a leap, and a dash, and a sudden cheer, W |