Exulting now, he clamours o'er his prey; 'Tis triumph for the base to overthrow Around thy mountain dwelling the winds lie- A boor has sent the shaft that leaves them lone, Thy clustering fellows, guardians of thy stateShaft from the reedy fen whence thou hast flown, And feather from the bird thy own wing hath struck down! THE BROOKLET. A LITTLE farther on, there is a brook Where the breeze lingers idly. The high trees Beside its banks, through the whole livelong day, With thought unchid by harsher din than came From the thick thrush, 'bat, gliding through the copse, Hurried above me; or the timid fawn That came down to the brooklet's edge to drink, And saunter'd through its shade, cropping the grass, Even where I lay,-having a quiet mood, Thou smilest-and on thy lip a straying thought THE SHADED WATER. It is a quiet glen as you may see, Shut in from all intrusion by the trees, Few know its quiet shelter,-none, like me, And listening, as the voiceless leaves respire,— When the far-travelling breeze, done wandering, Rests here his weary wing. And all the day, with fancies ever new, And sweet companions from their boundless Of merry elves, bespangled all with dew, [store Fantastic creatures of the old time lore,- A gracious couch,--the root of an old oak, There, with eye sometimes shut, but upward bent, And still the waters, trickling at my feet, Wind on their way with gentlest melody, Above them, to the gay breeze gliding by,— Hangs o'er the archway opening through the trees, How like-its sure and undisturb'd retreat. The bending trees that overshade my form; Thus, to my mind, is the philosophy The young bird teaches, who, with sudden flight Sails far into the blue that spreads on high, Until I lose him from my straining sight With a most lofty discontent, to fly Upward, from earth to sky. TO THE BREEZE: AFTER A PROTRACTED CALM AT SEA. T'Hou hast been slow to bless us, gentle breeze; Where hast thou been a lingerer, welcome friend? Where, when the midnight gather'd to her brow Her pale and crescent minister, wert thou? On what far, sullen, solitary seas, Piping the mariner's requiem, didst thou tend The home-returning bark, Curling the white foam o'er her lifted prow, [dark? White, when the rolling waves around her all were Gently, and with a breath Of spicy odour from Sabæan vales, Where subtle life defies and conquers death, Fill' dst thou her yellow sails! On, like some pleasant bird, With glittering plumage and light-loving eye, Camest thou with tidings of the land to cheer How, when the ocean slept. And his dumb waters, of all life bereft, His drapery of storm-clouds lifted high While a faint moaning o'er his bosom crept, How did the weary tar, His form reclined along the burning deck, To hail the finger, and delusive speck, Born in the solemn night, When the deep skies were bright, With all their thousand watchers on the sight- To hail the blessed birth, To guide to lowly earth The glorious glance, the holy wing of light! Music to us no less, Thou comest in our distress, To cheer our pathway. It is clear, through thee, How soothing to the heart that glides alone, Should he there perish, to thy deeper moan I bless thee, gentle breeze! Sweet minister to many a fond desire, What-0, thou Gon of this strong element!- Obedient to our fond and fervent hope? Which may not, through the thick and crowding He looks,--the shepherd on Chaldea's hills, And wonders the rich beacon doth not blaze, And, from his dreary watch along the rocks, Still wondering, as the drowsy silence fills And lone, Where its first splendours shone, Shall be that pleasant company of stars: Such perfect beauty mars; And, like the earth, its common bloom and brearr Fallen from on high, Their lights grow blasted by its touch, and die Of wailing sweetness, fill'd the earth and sky, The hope, heart-cherish'd, is the soonest lost; THE EDGE OF THE SWAMP. "Tis a wild spot, and hath a gloomy look; Dash from the lagoon, with marvellous haste, The steel-jaw'd monster, from his grassy bed, CHANGES OF HOME. They wind about our forms at noon, When panting, from the summer's heats, That gilds our passing thoughts of life, And well would they persuade us now In moments all too dear, That, sinful though our hearts may be, We have our Eden here. Ah, well has lavish nature, From out her boundless store, No sweeter stream than Ashley glides- May claim no softer hue; And let them sing of fruits of Spain, And none may say, it is not true, The burden of my lay, 'Tis written, in the sight of all, In flower and fruit and ray; And say if sung amiss, Her buds, her blooms, her flowers, Are still in rich perfection, As our fathers found them first, Wild thoughts are in our bosoms And a savage discontent; The merry dance delights us not, And all the smile is gone, JONATHAN LAWRENCE. [Born, 1807. Died, 1833.] FEW persons in private life, who have died so young, have been mourned by so many warm friends as was JONATHAN LAWRENCE. Devoted to a profession which engaged nearly all his time, and regardless of literary distinction, his productions would have been known only to his associates, had not a wiser appreciation of their merits withdrawn them from the obscurity to which his own low estimate had consigned them. He was born in New York, in November, 1807, and, after the usual preparatory studies, entered Columbia College, at which he was graduated before he was fifteen years of age. He soon after became a student in the office of Mr. W. SLOSSON, an eminent lawyer, where he gained much regard by the assiduity with which he prosecuted his studies, the premature ripeness of his judgment, and the undeviating purity and honourableness of his life. On being admitted to the bar, he entered into a partnership with Mr. SLOSSON, and daily added confirmation to the promise of his probational career, until he was suddenly called to a better life, in April, 1833. The industry with which he attended to his professional duties did not prevent him from giving considerable attention to general literature; and in moments-to use his own language "Stolen from hours I should have tied he produced many poems and prose sketches of considerable merit. These, with one or two ex ceptions, were intended not for publication, but as tributes of private friendship, or as contributions to the exercises of a literary society-still in existence of which he was for several years an active member. After his death, in compliance with a request by this society, his brother made a collection of his writings, of which a very small edition was printed, for private circulation. Their character is essentially meditative. Many of thern are devotional, and all are distinguished for the purity of thought which guided the life of the man. THOUGHTS OF A STUDENT. MANY a sad, sweet thought have I, Many a wild and wandering dream, Oft, when the south wind's dancing free The frolic Spring as she wantons by; To slight their voice, and away I'm straying Then can I hear the earth rejoice, That sings of its glad festivity; Many a hue of fancy, when The hues of earth are about to perish; Love hath its thoughts, we cannot keep, The secret transports of the soul; I worship like an idolater. Many a big, proud tear have I, When from my sweet and roaming track, From the green earth and misty sky, And spring, and love, I hurry back; And almost make me gay and bright. And, though I sometimes sigh to think Of earth and heaven, and wind and sea, And know that the cup which others drink Shall never be brimm'd by me; That many a joy must be untasted, And many a glorious breeze be wasted, Yet would not, if I dared, repine, That toil, and study, and care are mine. SEA-SONG. OVER the far blue ocean-wave, On the wild winds I flee, Yet every thought of my constant heart For each foaming leap of our gallant ship Had not thy form, through sun and storm, O, the sea-mew's wings are fleet and fast, And lovelier, too, than yon rainbow's hue, Are the daylight dreams and sunny gleams And when moon and stars are asleep on the wares, And the sailor is guiling the long watch-hour When our sail is white in the dark midnight, O, never knew hall such festival LOOK ALOFT. In the tempest of life, when the wave and the gale If the friend, who embraced in prosperity's glow, "Look aloft" to the friendship which never shall fade. Should the visions which hope spreads in light to thine eye, Like the tints of the rainbow, but brighten to fly, Then turn, and, through tears of repentant regret, "Look aloft" to the sun that is never to set. Should they who are dearest, the son of thy heart, And, O! when death comes in his terrors, to cast TO MAY. COME, gentle May! Come with thy robe of flowers, Come with thy sun and sky, thy clouds and sł. ɔwers, Come, and bring forth unto the eye of day, From their imprisoning and mysterious night, The buds of many hues, the children of thy light. Come, wondrous May! For, at the bidding of thy magic wand, In all their green and glorious array Come, vocal May! Come with thy train, that high On some fresh branch pour out their melody; Come, sunny May! Come with thy laughing beam, What time the lazy mist melts on the stream. Or seeks the mountain-top to meet thy ray, Ere yet the dew-drop on thine own soft flower Hath lost its light, or died beneath his power. Come, holy May! When, sunk behind the cold and western hill, His light hath ceased to play on leaf and rill, And twilight's footsteps hasten his decay; Come with thy musings, and my heart shall be Like a pure temple consecrate to thee. Come, beautiful May! Like youth and loveliness, Like her I love; O, come in thy full dress, The drapery of dark winter cast away; To the bright eye and the glad heart appear Queen of the spring, and mistress of the year. Yet, lovely May! Teach her whose eyes shall rest upon this rhyme To spurn the gilded mockeries of time, The heartless pomp that beckons to betray, And keep, as thou wilt find, that heart each year, Pure as thy dawn, and as thy sunset clear. And let me too, sweet May! Let thy fond votary see, As fade thy beauties, all the vanity Of this world's pomp; then teach, that though decay In his short winter bury beauty's frame, In fairer worlds the soul shall break his sway, Another spring shall bloom, eternal and the same |