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II.

Not Love, nor War, nor the tumultuous swell
Of civil conflict, nor the wrecks of change,
Nor Duty struggling with afflictions strange,
Not these alone inspire the tuneful shell;
But where untroubled peace and concord dwell,
There also is the Muse not loth to range,

Watching the blue smoke of the elmy grange,
Skyward ascending from the twilight dell.
Meek aspirations please her, lone endeavour,
And sage content, and placid melancholy;
She loves to gaze upon a crystal river,
Diaphanous, because it travels slowly;
Soft is the music that would charm for ever;
The flower of sweetest smell is shy and lowly.

III.

SEPTEMBER, 1815.

WHILE not a leaf seems faded, — while the fields,

With ripening harvest prodigally fair,

In brightest sunshine bask, this nipping air,

Sent from some distant clime where Winter wields

His icy scimitar, a foretaste yields

Of bitter change- and bids the Flowers beware; And whispers to the silent Birds, "Prepare Against the threatening Foe your trustiest shields." For me, who under kindlier laws belong

To Nature's tuneful quire, this rustling dry

Through leaves yet green, and yon crystalline sky,
Announce a season potent to renew,

Mid frost and snow, the instinctive joys of song,
And nobler cares than listless summer knew.

IV.

NOVEMBER 1.

How clear, how keen, how marvellously bright
The effluence from yon distant mountain's head,
Which, strewn with snow as smooth as heaven can shed,
Shines like another Sun on mortal sight

Uprisen, as if to check approaching night,

And all her twinkling stars. Who now would tread, If so he might, yon mountain's glittering head

Terrestrial

- but a surface, by the flight

Of sad mortality's earth-sullying wing,

Unswept, unstained? Nor shall the aerial Powers

Dissolve that beauty · destined to endure,

White, radiant, spotless, exquisitely pure,

Through all vicissitudes till genial spring

Have filled the laughing vales with welcome flowers.

V.

COMPOSED DURING A STORM.

ONE who was suffering tumult in his soul

Yet failed to seek the sure relief of

Went forth

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prayer,

- his course surrendering to the care

Of the fierce wind, while mid-day lightnings prowl
Insidiously, untimely thunders growl;

While trees, dim-seen, in frenzied numbers tear
The lingering remnant of their yellow hair,

And shivering wolves, surprised with darkness, howl
As if the sun were not. He raised his eye
Soul-smitten- for, that instant, did appear
Large space, mid dreadful clouds, of purest sky,
An azure orb-shield of Tranquillity,
Invisible, unlooked-for minister

Of providential goodness ever nigh!

VI.

TO A SNOW-DROP.

LONE Flower, hemmed in with snows and white as they, But hardier far, once more I see thee bend

Thy forehead, as if fearful to offend,

Like an unbidden guest. Though day by day,
Storms, sallying from the mountain-tops, way-lay
The rising sun, and on the plains descend;
Yet art thou welcome, welcome as a friend
Whose zeal outruns his promise! Blue-eyed May
Shall soon behold this border thickly set
With bright jonquils, their odours lavishing
On the soft west-wind and his frolic peers;
Nor will I then thy modest grace forget,
Chaste Snow-drop, vent'rous harbinger of Spring,
And pensive monitor of fleeting years!

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