"But is that gloom dissolved? how passing clear far brighter than before! Seems the wide world Even so thy latent worth will re-appear, Gladdening the people's heart from shore to shore; Re-seated on thy throne, Proof shalt thou furnish that misfortune, pain, "But, not to overlook what thou mayst know, And circumspect must be our course, and slow, let them calmly wait Such change in thy estate As I already have in thought devised; And which, with caution due, may soon be realised." The Story tells what courses were pursued, Rose, and, to consummate this just intent, Did place upon his Brother's head the Crown, Relinquished by his own; Then to his people cried, "Receive your Lord, Gorbonian's first-born Son, your rightful King restored!" The People answered with a loud acclaim: Yet more; heart-smitten by the heroic deed, The reinstated Artegal became Earth's noblest penitent; from bondage freed Or shake his high desert. Long did he reign; and, when he died, the tear Thus was a Brother by a Brother saved; And, from this triumph of affection pure, III. THE SPARROW'S NEST. BEHOLD, within the leafy shade, The home and sheltered bed, The Sparrow's dwelling, which, hard by Together visited. She looked at it as if she feared it; She gave me eyes, she gave me ears; And love, and thought, and joy. IV. TO A BUTTERFLY. I'VE watched you now a full half-hour, I know not if you sleep or feed. What joy awaits you, when the breeze This plot of Orchard-ground is ours; Come often to us, fear no wrong; Sit near us on the bough! We'll talk of sunshine and of song; And summer days, when we were young; Sweet childish days, that were as long As twenty days are now. V. A FAREWELL. COMPOSED IN THE YEAR 1802. FAREWELL, thou little Nook of mountain-ground, Of that magnificent Temple which doth bound The loveliest spot that Man hath ever found, Farewell! - we leave thee to Heaven's peaceful care Thee, and the Cottage which thou dost surround. Our boat is safely anchored by the shore, Sunshine and shower be with you, bud and bell! We go for one to whom ye will be dear; A gentle Maid, whose heart is lowly bred, Dear Spot! which we have watched with tender heed, Hast taken gifts which thou dost little need. And O most constant, yet most fickle Place, Who, being loved, in love no bounds dost know, Help us to tell her tales of years gone by, And this sweet spring, the best beloved and best; Joy will be flown in its mortality; Something must stay to tell us of the rest. Here, thronged with primroses, the steep rock's breast Glittered at evening like a starry sky; And in this Bush our Sparrow built her nest, Of which I sang one Song that will not die. |