He paced along; and, pensively,

Halting beneath a shady tree,

Whose moss-grown root might serve for couch or seat,

Fixed on a Star his upward eye;

Then, from the tenant of the sky

He turned, and watched with kindred look,

A Glow-worm, in a dusky nook,

Apparent at his feet.

The murmur of a neighbouring stream
Induced a soft and slumbrous dream,

A pregnant dream, within whose shadowy bounds
He recognised the earth-born Star,

And That which glittered from afar;
And (strange to witness!) from the frame
Of the ethereal Orb, there came

Intelligible sounds.

Much did it taunt the humbler Light

That now, when day was fled, and night

Hushed the dark earth- fast closing weary eyes,

A very Reptile could presume

To show her taper in the gloom,

As if in rivalship with One

Who sate a Ruler on his throne
Erected in the skies.

“Exalted Star!" the Worm replied,
"Abate this unbecoming pride,
Or with a less uneasy lustre shine;
Thou shrink'st as momently thy rays
Are mastered by the breathing haze;
While neither mist, nor thickest cloud
That shapes in Heaven its murky shroud,
Hath power to injure mine.

But not for this do I aspire

To match the spark of local fire,

- No!

That at my will burns on the dewy lawn,
With thy acknowledged glories;
Yet, thus upbraided, I may show
What favours do attend me here,
Till, like thyself, I disappear
Before the purple dawn."

When this in modest guise was said,
Across the welkin seemed to spread

A boding sound for aught but sleep unfit!
Hills quaked

- the rivers backward ran —

That Star, so proud of late, looked wan ;
And reeled with visionary stir

In the blue depth, like Lucifer

Cast headlong to the pit!

Fire raged,

and, when the spangled floor

Of ancient ether was no more,

New heavens succeeded, by the dream brought forth :

And all the happy Souls that rode

Transfigured through that fresh abode,

Had heretofore, in humble trust,
Shone meekly mid their native dust,
The Glow-worms of the earth!

lea:

This knowledge, from an Angel's voice
Proceeding, made the heart rejoice
Of Him who slept upon the open
Waking at morn he murmured not;
And, till life's journey closed, the spot
Was to the Pilgrim's soul endeared,
Where by that dream he had been cheered
Beneath the shady tree.

XXIII.

HINT FROM THE MOUNTAINS

FOR CERTAIN POLITICAL PRETENDERS.

"WHO but hails the sight with pleasure When the wings of genius rise, Their ability to measure

With great enterprise;

But in man was ne'er such daring
As yon Hawk exhibits, pairing
His brave spirit with the war in
The stormy skies!

Mark him, how his power he uses,
Lays it by, at will resumes!
Mark, ere for his haunt he chooses
Clouds and utter glooms!

There, he wheels in downward mazes;
Sunward now his flight he raises,
Catches fire, as seems, and blazes
With uninjured plumes!"-

ANSWER.

66 Stranger, 'tis no act of courage
Which aloft thou dost discern ;
No bold bird gone forth to forage
Mid the tempest stern;

But such mockery as the Nations
See, when public perturbations

Lift men from their native stations,
Like yon TUFT OF FERN;

Such it is; the aspiring Creature
Soaring on undaunted wing,
(So you fancied) is by nature
A dull helpless Thing,

Dry and withered, light and yellow;-
That to be the tempest's fellow!
Wait-and you shall see how hollow
Its endeavouring!"

6611

XXIV.

STRAY PLEASURES..

Pleasure is spread through the earth

In stray gifts to be claimed by whoever shall find."

By their floating Mill,

That lies dead and still,

Behold yon Prisoners three,

The Miller with two Dames, on the breast of the Thames! The Platform is small, but gives room for them all; And they're dancing merrily.

From the shore come the notes

To their Mill where it floats,

To their House and their Mill tethered fast;

To the small wooden Isle where, their work to beguile,

They from morning to even take whatever is given;And many a blithe day they have past.

In sight of the Spires,

All alive with the fires

Of the Sun going down to his rest,

In the broad open eye of the solitary sky,

They dance, there are three, as jocund as free,
While they dance on the calm river's breast.

Man and Maidens wheel,

They themselves make the Reel,

And their Music's a prey which they seize;
It plays not for them,-what matter? 'tis theirs;
And if they had care, it has scattered their cares,
While they dance, crying, "Long as ye please!"

They dance not for me,

Yet mine is their glee!

Thus pleasure is spread through the earth
In stray gifts to be claimed by whoever shall find;
Thus a rich loving-kindness, redundantly kind,
Moves all nature to gladness and mirth.

The Showers of the Spring

Rouse the Birds, and they sing;

If the Wind do but stir for his proper delight,
Each Leaf, that and this, his neighbour will kiss;
Each Wave, one and t'other, speeds after his brother;
They are happy, for that is their right!