O'er thee may the tempest in gentleness blow, And the lightnings of summer pass harmlessly by; For ever thy buds keep their mellowing glow, Thy branches still wave to the southernly sigh. Because in thy shade, as I lately reclined,

The sweetest of visions arose to my view; 'Twas the swoon of the soul-'twas the transport of mind

'Twas the happiest minute that ever I knew. For this shalt thou still be my favourite tree,— In the heart of the poet thou never canst fade; It shall often be warm'd by remembering thee, And the dream which I dreamt in thy tremulous shade.

LORD STRANGFORD.

SONNET.

FROM THE PORTUGUESE OF DE MATOS.

HIGH in the front of conquering hosts to ride
Be yours, ye sons of fortune, sons of fame!
Be yours the triumph of a deathless name,
While spoils of vanquish'd nations swell your pride!
Lift to the breeze your banners streaming wide,
While captive nations bend the knee below!
Let the fair galley's lofty gilded prow

Shine o'er the dancing billows of the tide!
With vaunted chiefs of Greece and mighty Rome
Be yours beneath the sacred shade to march,
Where palm and laurel form the victor's arch,
While lofty minstrels chant the nations' doom!
But leave to me the conquest of my fair,
With her soft azure eyes and auburn hair.

DR. LEYDEN.

THE LAY OF THE LITTLE BIRD.

FROM A FRENCH FABLIAU.

IN days of yore, at least a century since,
There lived a carle as wealthy as a prince :
His name I wot not; but his wide domain
Was rich with stream and forest, mead and plain;
To crown the whole, one manor he possess'd,
In choice delight so passing all the rest,
No castle, burgh, or city might compare
With the quaint beauties of that mansion rare.
The sooth to say, I fear my words may seem
Like some strange fabling or fantastic dream,
If, unadvised, the portraiture I trace,

And each brave pleasure of that peerless place;
Foreknow ye then, by necromantic might
Was raised this paradise of all delight;

A good knight own'd it first; he, bow'd with age,
Died, and his son possess'd the heritage:
But the lewd stripling, all to riot bent
(His chattels quickly wasted and forespent),.
Was driven to see this patrimony sold

To the base carle of whom I lately told.

Ye wot right well there only needs be sought One spendthrift heir to bring great wealth to

nought.

A lofty tower and strong, the building stood
Midst a vast plain surrounded by a flood;
And hence one pebble-paved channel stray'd,
That compass'd in a clustering orchard's shade:
'Twas a choice charming plat; abundant round
Flowers, roses, odorous spices clothed the ground;
Unnumber'd kinds, and all profusely shower'd
Such aromatic balsam as they flower'd,

Their fragrance might have stay'd man's parting

breath,

And chased the hovering agony of death.
The sward one level held, and close above
Tall shapely trees their leafy mantles wove;
All equal growth, and low their branches came,
Thick set with goodliest fruits of every name :
In midst, to cheer the ravish'd gazer's view,
A gushing fount its waters upward threw,
Thence slowly on with crystal current pass'd,
And crept into the distant flood at last:

But nigh its source a pine's umbrageous head,
Stretch'd far and wide, in deathless verdure spread,
Met with broad shade the summer's sultry gleam,
And through the livelong year shut out the beam.
Such was the scene:-yet still the place was
bless'd

With one rare pleasure passing all the rest:
A wondrous bird of energies divine

Had fix'd his dwelling in the tufted pine;
There still he sat, and there with amorous lay
Waked the dim morn, and closed the parting day:
Match'd with these strains of linked sweetness
wrought,

The violin and full-toned harp were nought;
Of power they were with new-born joy to move
The cheerless heart of long-desponding love;
Of power so strange that should they cease to
sound,

And the blithe songster flee the mystic ground,
That goodly orchard's scene, the pine-tree's shade,
Trees, flowers, and fount would all like vapour
fade.

'Listen, listen to my lay!"
Thus the merry notes did chime;
'All who mighty love obey,
Sadly wasting in your prime,
Clerk and laick, grave and gay!
Yet do ye, before the rest,
Gentle maidens, mark me tell!
Store my lesson in your breast,
Trust me it shall profit well:

Hear, and heed me, and be bless'd!' So sang the bird of old; but when he spied The carle draw near, with alter'd tone he cried'Back, river to thy source! and thee, tall tower, Thee castle strong, may gaping earth devour! Bend down your heads, ye gaudy flowers, and fade,

And wither'd be each fruit-tree's mantling shade!
Beneath these beauteous branches once were seen
Brave gentle knights disporting on the green,
And lovely dames; and oft, these flowers among,
Stay'd the blithe bands, and joy'd to hear my song!
Nor would they hence retire, nor quit the grove,
Till many a vow were past of mutual love;
These more would cherish, those would more
deserve;

Cost, courtesy, and arms, and nothing swerve.
O bitter change! for master now we see
A faitour villain carle of low degree;
Foul gluttony employs his livelong day,
Nor heeds nor hears he my melodious lay.'

So spake the bird; and, as he ceased to sing,
Indignantly he clapp'd his downy wing,
And straight was gone; but no abasement stirr'd
In the clown's breast at his reproachful word:

Bent was his wit alone by quaint device To snare, and sell him for a passing price: So well he wrought, so craftily he spread In the thick foliage green his slender thread, That when at eve the little songster sought his heedless foot was caught. 'How have I harm'd you?' straight he 'gan to cry,

His wonted spray,

6

And wherefore would you do me thus to die?'—
6
Nay, fear not,' quoth the clown, for death or
I only seek to profit by thy song: [wrong;
I'll get thee a fine cage; nor shalt thou lack
Good store of kernels and of seeds to crack;
But sing thou shalt; for if thou play'st the mute,
I'll spit thee, bird, and pick thy bones to boot.'
'Ah, woe is me!' the little thrall replied,
Who thinks of song in prison doom'd to bide?
And were I cook'd, my bulk might scarce afford
One scanty mouthful to my hungry lord.'

What may

more relate? The captive wight Assay'd to melt the villain all he might; And fairly promised, were he once set free, In gratitude to teach him secrets three; Three secrets, all so marvellous and rare, [pare. His race knew nought that might with these comThe carle prick'd up his ears amain: he loosed The songster thrall, by love of gain seduced: Up to the summit of the pine-tree's shade Sped the blithe bird, and there at ease he stay'd, And trick'd his plumes full leisurely, I trow, Till the carle claim'd his promise from below: 'Right gladly,' quoth the bird; now grow thee

wise:

All human prudence few brief lines comprise: