¡TERNAL and Omnipotent Unseen!

Who bad'st the world, with all its lives complete,
Start from the void and thrill beneath thy feet,

Thee I adore with reverence serene;

Here, in the fields, thine own cathedral meet,

Built by thyself, star-roofed, and hung with green, Wherein all breathing things in concord sweet, Organed by winds, perpetual hymns repeat. Here hast thou spread that book to every eye, Whose tongue and truth all, all may read and prove, On whose three blessèd leaves, Earth, Ocean, Sky, Thine own right hand hath stamped might, justice, love; Grand Trinity, which binds in due degree

God, man, and brute, in social unity.

HORACE SMITH.

H

ON THE STATUE OF A PIPING FAUN.

ARK! hear'st thou not the pipe of Faunus,

sweeping,

In dulcet glee, through Thessaly's domain? Dost thou not see embowered wood-nymphs peeping To watch the Graces that around him reign; While distant vintagers, and peasants reaping, Stand in mute transport, listening to the strain ; And Pan himself, beneath a pine-tree sleeping, Looks round, and smiles, and drops to sleep again?

O happy Greece! while thy blest sons were rovers
Through all the loveliness this earth discovers,

They in their minds a brighter region founded,
Haunted by gods and sylvans, nymphs and lovers,

Where forms of grace through sunny landscapes bounded, By music and enchantment all surrounded.

HORACE SMITH.

1

1

ON A GREEN-HOUSE.

ERE, from earth's dædal heights and dingles lowly,

The representatives of Nature meet;

Not like a Congress, or Alliance Holy

Of Kings, to rivet chains, but with their sweet Blossomy mouths to preach the love complete, That with pearl'd misletoe, and beaded holly, Clothed them in green unchangeable, to greet Winter with smiles, and banish melancholy.

I envy not the Emathian madman's fame,

Who won the world, and built immortal shame

On tears and blood; but if some flower, new found,

In its embalming cup might shroud my name,

Mine were a tomb more worthily renowned
Than Cheops' pile, or Artemisia's mound.

HORACE SMITH.

:

THE HARVEST MOON.

HE crimson moon, uprising from the sea,
With large delight, foretells the harvest near :
Ye shepherds, now prepare your melody

To greet the soft appearance of her sphere ;-
And, like a page enamoured of her train,
The star of evening glimmers in the west :
Then raise, ye shepherds, your observant strain,
That so of the Great Shepherd here are blest :-
Our fields are full with the time-ripened grain,
Our vineyards with the purple clusters swell;
Her golden splendour glimmers on the main,
And vales and mountains her bright glory tell :
Then sing, ye shepherds, for the time is come
When we must bring the enriched harvest home.
LORD THURLOW.

TO A WATER BIRD.

MELANCHOLY bird !—a winter's day
Thou standest by the margin of the pool,

And, taught by God, dost thy whole being
school

To patience, which all evil can allay ;

God has appointed thee the fish thy prey;
And given thyself a lesson to the fool
Unthrifty, to submit to moral rule,

And his unthinking course by thee to weigh.
There need not schools, nor the professor's chair,
Though these be good, true wisdom to impart;

He who has not enough for these to spare

Of time or gold, may yet amend his heart, And teach his soul by brooks and rivers fair; Nature is always wise in every part.

LORD THURLOW.