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Saw the grim night diffufe around .

A blacker pall upon the ground: "Alas! my fruitlefs prayer"—(he cried, Sunk orr the dew-cold mofs, and figh'd. O'er her fine form dilaftrous Sleep Wav'd his wand wet from Lethe's deep, Dire dreams convuls'd her labouring mind, And phantoms ftarted from behind: When, lo! through opening cloudt the moon Shed o'er the vales her lucid noon, , Silver'd the fable cheeks of night, And horror fniil'd at holy light. Inftant awaken'd by the glare Of glory foft diffus'd through air, She wonder'd much, with whom, and how, Her fteps e'er fought thefe wilds below, What fpirit of the midnight hour Dragg'd her from Cona's rock-foof 'd bower; When all at once remembrance dread Impetuous feiz'd her fhudd'ring head. "Who comes?" fhe fhriek'd, '• who hauuts this vale? "His looks! his robes of niift! how pale! "'Tis he! 'tis he! my life! my love! "Ye gods who hear me from above, "'Tis my Hidallan !—heaven! he flies, *' Drinks with unfeeling ear my cries." Thrice with impaffion'd grief flie pray'd, And thrice fhe clafp'd the fleeting {hade; But when (he faw his buoyant feet Through ether's argent realms retreat, Saw (tars dim twinkle in his veft, And moonfliiiie glimmer through- his bread-, Then with mad foot (he (mote the ground, Then ftarted at the burfting found; Wrung with wild hands her fhadowy hair, And ftar'd, and laugh'd with fierce defpairj Thrill'd with delirious (hoots the grove, As frenzy fann'd the flames of love.

Elinor, a Botany-bay Eclogue.
[From Poems by Robert Southey.j

ONCE more to daily toil, once more to wear ■
The weeds of infamy, from every joy
The heart can feel excluded, I arife
Worn out and faint with unremitting woe j
And once again with wearied fteps 1 trace
The hollow-fouading fliore, The fwelling waves

Gleam to the morning fun, and dazzle o'er

With many a fplendid hue the breezy 11 rand.

Oh there was once a tihie when Elinor

Gazed on thy opening beam with joyou* eye

Undimmed by guilt and grief! when her full foul

Filt thy mild radiance, and the rifing day

Waked but to pleafure! on thy fea-girt verge,

Oft, England! have my evening fteps ftoleon,

Oft have mine eyes furveyed the blue expanfe,

And mark'd the wild wind fwell the ruffled furge, _ » .

And feen the upheaved billows' bofomed rage

Ruftj on the rock; and then my timid foul

Shrunk at the perils of the boundlefs deep,

And heaved a figh for fuffering mariners.

Ah! little deeming I myfelf was doom'd

To tempt the perils of the boundlefs deep,

An outcaft—unbeloved and unbewail'd. ,

Why, ftern Remembrance! muft thine iron hand
Harrow my foul? why calls thy cruel power
The fields of England to my exil'd eyes,
The joys which once were mine? even now I fee
The lowly lovely dwelling! even now
Behold the woodbine clafpiog its white walls,
And hear the fearleft red-l>reafts chirp around
'To afk their morning meal:—for I was wont .
With friendly hand to give their morning m«rl,
Was wont to love their fong, when lingering morn
Streak'd o'er the chilly laudfcape the dim light,
And thro' the open'd latticf hung my head
To view the fnow-drop's bud: and thence at eve
When mildly fading funk the fnnnner fun,
Oft have I loved to mark the rook's flow courfe
And bear his hollow croak, what time he fought
The church-yard elm, wliofe wide-embowering boughs
Full-foKaged, halfconceard thehoufe of God.
There, my dead father! often have I heard
Thy hallowed voice explain the wondrous works
Of Heaven to finful man. Ah! little deein'd
Thy virtuous bofom, that thy fhamelefs child
So loon ftiould fpurn the leflbii! fink the Have
Of vice and infamy I the hireling prey
Of brutal appetite! at length worn out
With famine, and the avenging fcourge of guilt,
Should dare diflionefty—yet dread to die!

Welcome ye favage lands, ye barbarous cHmef,
Where angry Ens>Iand fends her outcaft fons-—
I hail your joylefs. (hores! my weary bark
Long tempeft-toft on Life's fncletnenr fea,

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Here hails hir haven! welcomes the drear fcene,
The marfliy plain, the briar-en (angled wood,
And all the perils of a world unknown.
For Elinor has nothing new to fear
From fickle Fortune! all her rankling (hafts
Barb'd with difgrace, and venom'd with difeafe,
Have pierced my bofom, and the dart of death
Has loft its terrors to a wretch iiks me.

Welcome ye marfliy heaths! ye pathlefs woods,
Where the rude native refts his wearied frame
Beneath the llieltering lhade; where, when the ftorm,
As rough and bleak it roll* along the fky,
Benumbs his naked limbs, he flies to feek
The dripping (belter. Welcome ye wild plains
Unbroken by the plough, undelv'd by hand
Of patient ruftic; where for lowing herds,
And for the mufic of the bleating flocks,
Alone is heard the kangaroo's fad note
Deepening in diftance. Welcome ye rude climes.
The realm of Nature! for as yet unknown
The crimes and comforts of luxurious life,
Nature benignly gives to all enough,
Denies o all a fnperfluity.
What tho' the garb of infamy I wear,
Tho' day by day along the echoing beach
I cull the wave-worn (hells, yet day by day
I earn in honefty my frugal food,
And lay me down at night to calm repofe,
No more condemn'd the mercenary tool
Of brutal luft, while heaves the indignant heart
With Virtue's ftifled figh, to fold my arms
Round the rank felon, and for daily bread
To hug contagion to my poifon'd breaft;
On thefe wild (bores Repentance' faviour hand
Shall probe my fecret foul, (hall cleanfe its wounds,
And fit the faithful penitent for Heaven.

Mary the Maid of the Inn.

[From the fame Work.]

I.

WHO is (he, the poor Maniac, whofe uildly-fiVd eyes
Seem a heart overcharged to exprefs?
She weeps not, yet often and deeply (lie (ighs:
She never complains, but her filence implies
The compofure of fettled diftrefs.

No aid, no compaflion the Maniac will feek;

Cold and hunger awake not her care:
Thro' her rags d<> the winds of the winter blow bleak
On her poor withe'r'd bofom half bare, and her cheek

Has the deathly pale hue of defpair.

III.

Yet cheerful and happy, nor diftant the day,

Poor Mary the Maniac has been;
The traveller remembers who journeyed this way
No damfel fo lovely, no damfel fo gay ,

As Mary the Maid of the Inn.

IV.

Her cheerful addrefs fill'd the guefls with delight

As fhe welcomed them in with a fmile;
Her heart was a ftranger to childifh affright,
And Mary would walk by the Abbey at night

When the wind whittled down the dark aide.

V.

She loved, and young Richard had fettled the day,

And (lie hoped to be happy for life;
But Richard was idle and worthlefs, and they
Who knew him.would pity poor Mary, and fay

That fhe was too good for his wife.

VI.

'Tivas in autumn, and ftormy and dark was the night,

And fall were the windows and door;
Two guefls fat enjoying the fire that burnt bright,
And fmoking in filence with tranquil delight

They liften'O to hear the wind roar.

VII.

"'Tis pleafant," cried one, "feated by the fire-fide

"To hear the wind whillle without." "A fine night for the Abbey '." his comrade replied, •* Methinks a man's courage would now be well tried

"Who fliould wander the ruins about.

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Vii r.

"I myfelf, like a fchool-boy, fhould tremble to hear

"The hoarfe ivy fhake over my head; "And could fancy I faw, half perfuaded by fear, "Some ugly old Abbot's white fpirit appear, "For this wind might awaken the dead!"

IX.

"I'll wager a dinner," the other one cried,
"That Mary would venture ihere now."
"Then wager and lofe!" with a fneer he replied,
** I'll warrant fhe'd fancy a ghoft by her fide,
"And faint if file faw a while cow."

"Will Mary this charge on her courage allow ?M

His companion exclaim'd with a fmile; "I fhall win, for I know fhe will venture there how, "And earn a new bonnet by bringing a bough "From the elder that grows in the aide."

XI.

With fearlefs good humour did Mary comply,

And her way to the Abbev fhe bent:
The night it was dark, and the wind it was high,
And as hollowly howling it i'wept thro' the fky

She fhiver'd with cold as fhe went.

XII.

O'er the path fo well known fttll proceeded the Maid

Where the Abbey rofe dim on the fight, Thro' the gate-way fhe entered, fhe felt not afraid, Yet the ruins were lonely and wild, and their fhade Seem'd to deepen the gloom of the night.

XIII.

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All around her was filent, fave when the rude blaft

Howl'd difmally round the old pile;
Over weed-cover'd fragments ftill learlefs fhe paft,
And arrived at the innermoft ruin at laft

Where the elder-tree grew in the aifle.

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