XLIX.

Amid the flap of bands and whirr of wheels,
And scream and hiss of swift revolving saw,

My mind, impulsive from the general law
Of rapid motion, stimulated feels;

And vagrant Fancy to the country steals

To roam through hawthorn dell-by hazel shawWhere she, from silence, peace was wont to draw, And pleasure out of beauty's soft appeals.

Memory and Fancy thus unite to bring,

E'en while I labour, some long passed delight, And, with sweet voice and beauteous colouring, Intone and brighten it to ear and sightWhich in the day-time prompts my harp to sing, And furnishes a pleasing dream at night.

L.

The tones that breath'd our passion were an hymn
Sung at Love's altar, where inspired we knelt,
And, at the change wrought in us, wondering dwelt,
As wild emotions shot through every limb:
Impatient Fancy sought through gleamings dim
T'anticipate the bliss that would be felt,

Could beating breast and glowing lip but melt,
And in elysian joy our senses swim.

Brief dream! But long, long waking! Though each hour Sheds over it a chillness from its wings;

Those tones have still a charm, and mem'ry's power, When aught of sorrow or unkindness wrings,

From out that fading wreath can snatch some flower, That to my heart a passing solace brings.

LI.

ON THE REBUKE OF A FRIEND.

Though I at times affect the poet's strain,

I ne'er neglect the source that brings my bread; This sonneteering art hath never fed

A sickly self-importance in my brain;

I write to cheer me-thus it gives no pain
The path of honest industry to tread :

Were Fame to weave a garland round my head,

I could not look on labour with disdain.

Our varied powers were given us for our good,

And he's a prodigal who wasteth time

In profitless unmeaning solitude

Who but devotes his days to making rhyme : When Fancy's dreams on serious cares intrude,

The negligence is little short of crime.

LII.

ON THE SUBSCRIPTION FOR COBDEN.

Give pounds to Cobden! gather pence for Peel!
But where is Colonel Thompson's great reward?
And where's a guerdon for the Sheffield Bard?
Those first and fearless champions of "Repeal!"
Shall this one's stern, bold song, and that one's zeal,
Which on monopoly bore long and hard,

Of your munificence have no award,

Though they first made the law-mailed monster reel? I would not be invidious, nor dispute

The merits of your "chosen" from the ranks;

Their noble labours well deserve the fruit:

Yet it would seem, as one of Fortune's pranks. That over Elliott's claims the nation's mute,

And Thompson gets but-our most grateful thanks!

LIII.

Scarcely my lonely pillow had I press'd,
When straightway dream'd I, that again my head,
As it was wont to be, was softly laid
Upon thy beautifully-rounded breast,

And that thy humid lip once more caress'd
My throbbing temples, and the loosen'd braid

Of thy cool auburn hair at last allay'd

The burning breathings that my neck oppressed.
And then methought I slumber'd-but the brain,
O'erwrought with deep sensation, stay'd the blood.
And I awoke abruptly—and in vain

Besought the magic Morpheus that he would
Renew that vision'd slumber-but he stood

Aloof, and mocked me in my amorous pain.