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POEMS OF THE FANCY.
A MORNING EXERCISE.
FANCY, who leads the pastimes of the glad,
Blithe ravens croak of death; and when the owl
Tries his two voices for a favourite strain-
Through border wilds where naked Indians stray,
Myriads of notes attest her subtle skill;
1 See Waterton's "Wanderings in South America.”
What wonder? at her bidding, ancient lays Steeped in dire grief the voice of Philomel; 20 And that fleet messenger of summer days, The Swallow, twittered subject to like spell; But ne'er could Fancy bend the buoyant Lark To melancholy service-hark! O bark!
The daisy sleeps upon the dewy lawn, Not lifting yet the head that evening bowed; But He is risen, a later star of dawn,
Glittering and twinkling near yon rosy cloud; Bright gem instinct with music, vocal spark; The happiest bird that sprang out of the Ark! 30
Hail, blest above all kinds!-Supremely skilled
Restless with fixed to balance, high with low, Thou leav'st the halcyon free her hopes to build On such forbearance as the deep may show; Perpetual flight, unchecked by earthly ties, 35 Leav'st to the wandering bird of Paradise.
Faithful, though swift as lightning, the meek dove;
Yet more hath Nature reconciled in thee;
To the last point of vision, and beyond, Mount, daring warbler!-that love-prompted strain,
("Twixt thee and thine a never-failing bond), 45 Thrills not the less the bosom of the plain: Yet might'st thou seem, proud privilege! to sing All independent of the leafy spring.
How would it please old Ocean to partake, With sailors longing for a breeze in vain, The harmony thy notes most gladly make Where earth resembles most his own domain ! Urania's self might welcome with pleased ear These matins mounting towards her native sphere.
Chanter by heaven attracted, whom no bars To daylight known deter from that pursuit, 56 'Tis well that some sage instinct, when the stars Come forth at evening, keeps Thee still and mute;
For not an eyelid could to sleep incline
A FLOWER GARDEN.
AT COLEORTON HALL, LEICESTERSHIRE.
TELL me, ye Zephyrs! that unfold,
Did only softly-stealing hours
Say, when the moving creatures saw
Or peeped they often from their beds,
All summer-long the happy Eve
Yet, where the guardian fence is wound, 25
We see not nor suspect a bound,
And though the jealous turf refuse
And hither throngs of birds resort;
Apt emblem (for reproof of pride)