Neither checked by the rich nor the needy they roam; For gray-headed Dan has a daughter at home, Who will gladly repair all the damage that's done; And three, were it asked, would be rendered for one. Old Man! whom so oft I with pity have eyed, A whirl-blast from behind the hill Rushed o'er the wood with startling sound: And showers of hail-stones pattered round. Of tallest hollies, tall and green; A fairer bower was never seen. From year to year the spacious floor With withered leaves is covered o'er, You could not lay a hair between : And all the year the bower is green. But see! where'er the hailstones drop The withered leaves all skip and hop, There's not a breeze-no breath of airYet here, and there, and every where Along the floor, beneath the shade Some Robin Good-fellow were there, Oh! grant me Heaven a heart at ease, That I may never cease to find, Even in appearances like these, Enough to nourish and to stir my mind! SONG FOR THE WANDERING JEW. Though the torrents from their fountains Roar down many a craggy steep, Though almost with eagle pinion Yet he has some small dominion If on windy days the Raven Not the less he loves his haven On the bosom of the cliff. |