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fox Cheered by this hope she bends her thither ;

over blackbird


Still laughs the radiant eye of Heaven,

Nor have the golden bowers of Even
In the rich West begun to wither ;-
When, o'er the vale of Balbec winging

Slowly, she sees a child at play,
Among the rosy wild-flowers singing,

and as wild as they ;
Chasing, with eager hands and eyes,
The beautiful blue damsel-flies,
That fluttered round the jasmine stems,
Like winged flowers or flying gems :-
And, near the boy, who tired with play,
Now nestling 'mid the roses lay,
She saw a wearied man dismount

From his hot steed, and on the brink
Of a small imaret's rustic fount

Impatient fling him down to drink. Then swift his haggard brow he turned

To the fair child, who fearless sat,
Though never yet hath day-beam burned

Upon a brow more fierce than that,
Sullenly fierce—a mixture dire,
Like thunder-clouds, of gloom and fire !
In which the Peri's eye could read
Dark tales of many a ruthless deed ;
The ruined maid—the shrine profaned-
Oaths broken-and the threshold stained
With blood of guests !—there written, all,
Black as the damning drops that fall
From the denouncing Angel's pen,
Ere Mercy weeps them out again!

Yet tranquil now that man of crime
(As if the balmy evening time
Softened his spirit), looked and lay,
Watching the rosy infant's play:
Though still, whene'er his eye by chance
Fell on the boy's, its lurid glance

Met that unclouded, joyous gaze,

As torches, that have burnt all night
Through some impure and godless rite,

Encounter morning's glorious rays.

But hark! the vesper-call to prayer,

As slow the orb of daylight sets,
Is rising sweetly on the air,

From Syria's thousand minarets !
The boy has started from the bed
Of flowers, where he had laid his head,
And down upon the fragrant sod

Kneels, with his forehead to the south,
Lisping the eternal name of God

From purity's own cherub mouth,
And looking, while his hands and eyes
Are lifted to the glowing skies,
Like a stray babe of Paradise,
Just lighted on that flowery plain,
And seeking for its home again!
Oh, 'twas a sight—that Heaven—that Child-
A scene, which might have well beguiled
Ev'n haughty Eblis of a sigh
For glories lost and peace gone by !



And how felt he, the wretched Man
Reclining there—while memory ran
O’er many a year of guilt and strife,
Flew o'er the dark flood of his life,
Nor found one sunny resting-place,
Nor brought him back one branch of grace ?
“There was a time,' he said, in mild,
Heart-humbled tones—thou blessed child !
When young and haply pure as thou,
I looked and prayed like thee—but now'-
He hung his head-each nobler aim

And hope and feeling, which had slept
From boyhood's hour, that instant came

Fresh o'er him, and he wept—he wept !

Blest tears of soul-felt penitence !

In whose benign, redeeming flow

KILMENY. From The Queen's Wake.

In that green wene Kilmeny lay,
Her bosom happed wi' the flowrets gay ;
But the air was soft, and the silence deep,
And bonny Kilmeny fell sound asleep ;
She kend nae mair, nor opened her e'e, knew no more
Till waked by the hymns of a far countrye,
She wakened on a couch of the silk sae slim,
All striped wi' the bars of the rainbow's rim;
And lovely beings round were rife,
Who erst had travelled mortal life. ..

They lifted Kilmeny, they led her away,
And she walked in the light of a sunless day ;
The sky was a dome of crystal bright,
The fountain of vision, and fountain of light;
The emerald fields were of dazzling glow,
And the flowers of everlasting blow.
Then deep in the stream her body they laid,
That her youth and beauty never might fade ;
And they smiled on heaven when they saw her lie
In the stream of life that wandered by ;
And she heard a song, she heard it sung
She kend not where, but sae sweetly it rung,
It fell on her ear like a dream of the morn.

Then Kilmeny begged again to see
The friends she had left in her own countrye,
To tell of the place where she had been,
And the glories that lay in the land unseen,
With distant music, soft and deep,
They lulled Kilmeny sound asleep;
And when she awakened, she lay her lane,
All happed with flowers in the greenwood wene.
When seven lang years had come and fled,
When grief was calm and hope was dead,
When scarce was remembered Kilmeny's name,
Late, late in a gloamin Kilmeny came hame !
And oh, her beauty was fair to see,
But still and steadfast was her e'e ;


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Such beauty bard may never declare,
For there was no pride nor passion there ;
And the soft desire of maiden's een,
In that mild face could never be seen.
Her seymar was the lily flower,
And her cheek the moss-rose in the shower ;
And her voice like the distant melodye,
That floats along the twilight sea.
But she loved to raike the lanely glen,
And keeped afar frae the haunts of men,
Her holy hymns unheard to sing,
To suck the flowers and drink the spring,
But wherever her peaceful form appeared,
The wild beasts of the hill were cheered ;
The wolf played blithely round the field,
The lordly bison lowed and kneeled,
The dun deer wooed with manner bland,
And cowered aneath her lily hand.
And when at eve the woodlands rung,
When hymns of other worlds she sung,
In ecstasy of sweet devotion,
Oh, then the glen was all in motion ;
The wild beasts of the forest came,
Broke from their bughts and faulds the tame,

pens And goved around, charmed and amazed ;

Even the dull cattle crooned 1 and gazed,
And murmured, and looked with anxious pain
For something the mystery to explain.
The buzzard came with the throstle-cock ;
The corby left her houf in the rock;

raven, haunt
The blackbird alang wi' the eagle flew;
The hind came tripping o'er the dew ;
The wolf and the kid their raike began,
And the tod, and the lamb, and the leveret ran ;

The hawk and the hern attour them hung,
And the merl
and the mavis forhooyed their young; {bloche

forsook And all in a peaceful ring were hurled : It was like an eve in a sinless world !


1 Croon, to emit a murmuring sound.

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