FOUNTAINS ABBEY.

BBEY! for ever smiling pensively,

How like a thing of Nature dost thou rise Amid her loveliest works! as if the skies, Clouded with grief, were arched thy roof to be, And the tall trees were copied all from thee! Mourning thy fortunes-while the waters dim Flow like the memory of thy evening hymn, Beautiful in their sorrowing sympathy;

As if they with a weeping sister wept,

Winds name thy name! But thou, tho' sad, art calm,
And Time with thee his plighted troth hath kept;
For harebells deck thy brow, and, at thy feet,
Where sleep the proud, the bee and redbreast meet,
Mixing thy sighs with Nature's lonely psalm.

TO THE GRASSHOPPER AND THE CRICKET.

REEN little vaulter in the sunny grass,

Catching your heart up at the feel of June,

Sole voice that's heard amidst the lazy noon,

When even the bees lag at the summoning brass;
And you, warm little housekeeper, who class

With those who think the candles come too soon,
Loving the fire, and with your tricksome tune
Nick the glad silent moments as they pass;
Oh sweet and tiny cousins, that belong,

One to the fields, the other to the hearth,

Both have your sunshine; both, tho' small, are strong At your clear hearts; and both seem given to earth To sing in thoughtful ears this natural song

In doors and out, summer and winter, Mirth.

THE NILE.

T flows through old hushed Egypt and its sands,
Like some grave mighty thought threading a

dream,

And times and things, as in that vision, seem

Keeping along it their eternal stands,—

Caves, pillars, pyramids, the shepherd bands

That roamed through the young world, the glory extreme

Of high Sesostris, and that southern beam,

The laughing queen that caught the world's great hands.

Then comes a mightier silence, stern and strong,

As of a world left empty of its throng,

And the void weighs on us; and then we wake,
And hear the fruitful stream lapsing along
'Twixt villages, and think how we shall take
Our own calm journey on for human sake.

ORFORD CASTLE.

EACON for barks that navigate the stream
Of Ore or Alde, or breast the ocean spray :
Landmark for inland travellers far away
O'er heath and sheep-walk-as the morning beam,
Or the declining sunset's mellower gleam,
Lights up thy weather-beaten turrets gray;
Still dost thou bear thee bravely in decay,
As if thy by-gone glory were no dream!

Yea, now with lingering grandeur thou look'st down
From thy once fortified, embattled hill,
As if thine ancient office to fulfil ;-

And though thy keep be but the ruin'd crown
Of Orford's desolate and dwindled town,
Seem'st to assert thy sovereign honour still.

HE butterfly, which sports on gaudy wing;
The brawling brooklet, lost in foam and spray,
As it goes dancing on its idle way;

The sunflower, in broad daylight glistening;
Are types of her who in the festive ring

Lives but to bask in fashion's vain display,
And glittering thro' her bright but useless day,
“Flaunts, and goes down a disregarded thing!”
Thy emblem, Lucy, is the busy bee,

Whose industry for future hours provides ;
The gentle streamlet, gladding as it glides

-

Unseen along, the flower which gives the lea

Fragrance and loveliness, are types of thee,

And of the active worth thy modest merit hides.