And from the blessed power that rolls

About, below, above,

We'll frame the measure of our souls:

They shall be tuned to love.

Then come, my Sister! come, I

pray,

With speed put on your woodland dress; -And bring no book: for this one day

We'll give to idleness.

XI.

TO A YOUNG LADY,

Who had been reproached for taking long Walks in the Country.

DEAR Child of Nature, let them rail!
-There is a nest in a green dale,

A harbour and a hold,

Where thou, a Wife and Friend, shalt see

Thy own delightful days, and be

A light to young and old.

There, healthy as a Shepherd-boy,

As if thy heritage were joy,

And pleasure were thy trade,

Thou, while thy Babes around thee cling,

Shalt shew us how divine a thing

A Woman may be made.

Thy thoughts and feelings shall not die,

Nor leave thee when grey-hairs are nigh

A melancholy slave;

But an old age serene and bright,

And lovely as a Lapland night,

Shall lead thee to thy grave.

XII.

LINES

WRITTEN IN EARLY SPRING.

1 HEARD a thousand blended notes, While in a grove I sate reclined,

In that sweet mood when pleasant thoughts Bring sad thoughts to the mind.

To her fair works did Nature link

The human soul that through me ran;

And much it grieved my heart to think

What man has made of man.

Through primrose tufts, in that sweet bower,

The periwinkle trailed its wreaths;

And 'tis my faith that every flower

Enjoys the air it breathes.

The birds around me hopped and played: Their thoughts I cannot measure :—

But the least motion which they made,

It seemed a thrill of pleasure.

The budding twigs spread out their fan,

To catch the breezy air;

And I must think, do all I can,

That there was pleasure there.

If I these thoughts may not prevent,
If such be of my creed the plan,
Have I not reason to lament

What man has made of man?

XIII.

SIMON LEE,

THE OLD HUNTSMAN,

With an Incident in which he was concerned.

In the sweet shire of Cardigan,
Not far from pleasant Ivor-hall,
An Old Man dwells, a little man,
I've heard he once was tall.

Of years he has upon his back,
No doubt, a burthen weighty;
He

says he is three score and ten, But others say he's eighty.

A long blue livery-coat has he,

That's fair behind, and fair before;

Yet, meet him where you will, you see

Full five-and-twenty years he lived

A running Huntsman merry ;

And, though he has but one eye left,

His cheek is like a cherry.