You see yon precipice; - it wears the shape
Of a vast building made of many crags;
And in the midst is one particular rock

That rises like a column from the vale,

Whence by our shepherds it is called THE PILLAR.
Upon its aëry summit crowned with heath,
The Loiterer, not unnoticed by his Comrades,
Lay stretched at ease; but, passing by the place
On their return, they found that he was gone.
No ill was feared; but one of them by chance
Entering, when evening was far spent, the house
Which at that time was James's home, there learned
That nobody had seen him all that day:

The morning came, and still he was unheard of:
The neighbours were alarmed, and to the Brook
Seme hastened, some towards the Lake: ere noon
They found him at the foot of that same Rock
Dead, and with mangled limbs. The third day after
I buried him, poor Youth, and there he lies!

Yes, long before he died, he found that time

Is a true friend to sorrow; and unless

The power of speech. Both left the spot in silence;
And Leonard, when they reached the church-yard gate,
As the Priest lifted up the latch turned round, —
And, looking at the grave, he said, "My Brother!"
The Vicar did not hear the words: and now,
Pointing towards the Cottage, he entreated
That Leonard would partake his homely fare:
The other thanked him with a fervent voice;
But added, that, the evening being calm,
He would pursue his journey. So they parted.
It was not long ere Leonard reached a grove
That overhung the road: he there stopped short,
And, sitting down beneath the trees, reviewed
All that the Priest had said: his early years
Were with him in his heart: his cherished hopes,
And thoughts which had been his an hour before,
All pressed on him with such a weight, that now,
This vale, where he had been so happy, seemed
A place in which he could not bear to live:
So he relinquished all his purposes.
He travelled on to Egremont: and thence,
That night, he wrote a letter to the Priest,
Reminding him of what had passed between them;
And adding, with a hope to be forgiven,
That it was from the weakness of his heart
He had not dared to tell him who he was.

This done, he went on shipboard, and is now
A Seaman, a gray-headed Mariner.

ARTEGAL AND ELIDURE.

tune,

PRIEST.

For his paternal Gods, the Trojan raised?
Gone like a morning dream, or like a pile
Of clouds that in cerulean ether blazed!-
Ere Julius landed on her white-cliffed shore,
They sank, delivered o'er

To fatal dissolution; and, I ween,

No vestige then was left that such had ever been.

Nathless, a British record (long concealed
In old Armorica, whose secret springs
No Gothic conqueror ever drank) revealed
The wondrous current of forgotten things;
How Brutus came, by oracles impelled,
And Albion's giants quelled-

A brood whom no civility could melt,

"Who never tasted grace, and goodness ne'er had felt."

The Stranger would have thanked him, but he felt

A gushing from his heart that took away

Whence golden harvests, cities, warlike towers,

And Pleasure's sumptuous bowers;

Whence all the fixed delights of house and home, Friendships that will not break, and love that cannot

roam.

O, happy Britain! region all too fair
For self-delighting fancy to endure
That silence only should inhabit there,
Wild beasts, or uncouth savages impure!
But, intermingled with the generous seed,
Grew many a poisonous weed;

Thus fares it still with all that takes its birth

From human care, or grows upon the breast of earth.

Hence, and how soon! that war of vengeance waged
By Guendolen against her faithless lord;
Till she, in jealous fury unassuaged,

Had slain his Paramour with ruthless sword:
Then, into Severn hideously defiled,

She flung her blameless child,
Sabrina-vowing that the stream should bear
That name through every age, her hatred to declare.

So speaks the Chronicle, and tells of Lear
By his ungrateful daughters turned adrift.
Ye lightnings, hear his voice!—they cannot hear,
Nor can the winds restore his simple gift.
But One there is, a Child of nature meek,

Who comes her Sire to seek;
And he, recovering sense, upon her breast
Leans smilingly, and sinks into a perfect rest.

And while he served the gods with reverence due, Fields smiled, and temples rose, and towns and cities grew.

He died, whom Artegal succeeds — his son;
But how unworthy of such sire was he!

A hopeful reign, auspiciously begun,
Was darkened soon by foul iniquity.

From crime to crime he mounted, till at length
The nobles leagued their strength

With a vexed people, and the tyrant chased;

And, on the vacant throne, his worthier Brother placed.

From realm to realm the humbled Exile went,
Suppliant for aid his kingdom to regain;

In many a court, and many a warrior's tent,
He urged his persevering suit in vain.
Him, in whose wretched heart ambition failed,

Dire poverty assailed;

And, tired with slights which he no more could brook Towards his native soil he cast a longing look.

Fair blew the wished-for wind-the voyage sped; He landed; and, by many dangers scared,

66

'Poorly provided, poorly followed,"

To Calaterium's forest he repaired.

How changed from him who, born to highest place,
Had swayed the royal mace,

Flattered and feared, despised yet deified,
In Troynovant, his seat by silver Thames's side!

From that wild region where the crownless king
Lay in concealment with his scanty train,
Supporting life by water from the spring,
And such chance food as outlaws can obtain,
Unto the few whom he esteems his friends

A messenger he sends;

And from their secret loyalty requires
Shelter and daily bread, the amount of his desires.

While he the issue waits, at early morn
Wandering by stealth abroad, he chanced to hear
A startling outcry made by hound and horn,
From which the tusky boar hath fled in fear;
And, scouring toward him o'er the grassy plain,
Behold the hunter train

He bids his little company advance
With seeming unconcern and steady countenance.

The royal Elidure, who leads the chase,
Can it be!
Hath checked his foaming courser —
Methinks that I should recognise that face,
Though much disguised by long adversity!
He gazed rejoicing, and again he gazed,
Confounded and amazed-

"It is the king, my brother!" and, by sound
the ground
Of his own voice confirmed, he leaps upon

"Believe it not," said Elidure; "respect

Awaits on virtuous life, and ever most

Which stands the universal empire's boast; This can thy own experience testify:

Nor shall thy foes deny

That, in the gracious opening of thy reign,
Our Father's spirit seemed in thee to breathe again.

"Who, when a crown is fixed upon his head, Would balance claim with claim, and right with right?

But thou - I know not how inspired, how led —

"And what if o'er that bright unbosoming
Clouds of disgrace and envious fortune past!
Have we not seen the glories of the spring
By veil of noontide darkness overcast?
The frith that glittered like a warrior's shield,
The sky, the gay green field,

Are vanished; - gladness ceases in the groves,
And trepidation strikes the blackened mountain coves.

"But is that gloom dissolved? how passing clear
Seems the wide world - far brighter than before!
Even so thy latent worth will re-appear,
Gladdening the people's heart from shore to shore;
For youthful faults ripe virtues shall atone;
Re-seated on thy throne,

Proof shalt thou furnish that misfortune, pain,
And sorrow, have confirmed thy native right to reign.

"But, not to overlook what thou mayst know,

Thy enemies are neither weak nor few;
And circumspect must be our course, and slow,
Or from my purpose ruin may ensue.
Dismiss thy followers; let them calmly wait
Such change in thy estate

As I already have in thought devised;

And which, with caution due, may soon be realised."

The Story tells what courses were pursued,

Until King Elidure, with full consent
Of all his Peers, before the multitude,

Rose, and, to consummate this just intent,
Did place upon his Brother's head the Crown,

Relinquished by his own;

Then to his people cried, "Receive your Lord,

FAREWELL LINES.

HIGH bliss is only for a higher state,' But, surely, if severe afflictions borne With patience merit the reward of peace, Peace ye deserve; and may the solid good, Sought by a wise though late exchange, and here With bounteous hand beneath a cottage roof To you accorded, never be withdrawn, Nor for the world's best promises renounced. Most soothing was it for a welcome friend, Fresh from the crowded city, to behold That lonely union, privacy so deep, Such calm employments, such entire content. So when the rain is over, the storm laid, A pair of herons oft-times have I seen, Upon a rocky islet, side by side,

Drying their feathers in the sun, at ease;

And so, when night with grateful gloom had fallen,
Two glow-worms in such nearness that they shared,
As seemed, their soft self-satisfying light,
Each with the other on the dewy ground,
Where He that made them blesses their repose.
When wandering among lakes and hills I note,
Once more, those creatures thus by nature paired,
And guarded in their tranquil state of life,
Even as your happy presence to my mind
Their union brought, will they repay the debt,
And send a thankful spirit back to you,
With hope that we, dear friends! shall meet again.

TO A BUTTERFLY.

I'VE watched you now a full half-hour, Self-poised upon that yellow flower; And, little Butterfly! indeed

I know not if you sleep or feed,