FRIENDSHIP.

THERE is a sunbeam beautifully shining

Through the dark clouds with care and sorrow rife:

There is a rose-wreath delicately twining

Among the brambles in the path of life:

There is a sweet bird exquisitely singing,

Albeit rude thorns upon her bosom press :

There is a fountain musically springing

From the cold rocks of life's sad wilderness:

There is a fair orb, to this world pertaining,

Which strives full meekly with the gloom of night;

But all its radiance, all its beauty gaining,

From the great source of universal light.

Is it not friendship,-that delightful feeling,

All human griefs, all human joys above;

But most its purest, tenderest charms revealing,
When stamped and softened with the form of love?

Oh, 'tis the sunbeam mercifully lighting

Hope's glittering rainbow on the clouds of woe; 'Tis the sweet rose-wreath the tired eye inviting, That hides the harshness of the thorn below;

"Tis the dear bird, her cheering aid bestowing On others' griefs, unmindful of her own; 'Tis the clear streamlet, in the desert flowing, That springs most purely from the hardest stone.

'Tis the bright planet, whose benign attendance Doth half our darkness and our fears remove;

But borrows all its beautiful resplendence

From the high essence of a God of Love.

1826.

MATHEMATICS.

THERE is a peevish, cross, ill-natured creature,
With little charm to boast in mind or feature,
Figure squat, stumpy, anything but fair,
Curved legs, face circular, and body square,—
A curious animal;-but still, 'tis true,
This is the wretch my father bade me woo.
And I, full oft, most dutifully strove

To win her kindness or awake her love;

Content to leave and lose the sweeter bliss

Of one, who sometimes lets me steal a kiss,-—

A bright and airy spirit,—one of those,

Whose voice steals softly o'er the heart's repose,

Who paints with rainbow-touch the clouds of heaven,
Who weds the sunbeam to the waves at even ;-
One whom I knew my first, my dearest joy,-

Youth's fond companion,-childhood's early toy.

But I will chide her hence whate'er she be,

The other damsel is the bride for me.

You knew her, Carus, once, and bask'd the while

Beneath the favour of her sunniest smile;

And you did promise, you

would come and see

If you could not transfer her love to me.

I thought you could—at least I hoped you might Smooth down old quarrels and set new ones right,

Might bring us both, each angry feeling past,

Beneath one vinculum to stand at last,

Extract each root, impossible before,

Whence mutual hatred reared its deadly flower,— Transform to softness her ungracious parts,

Subtract our difference, and equate our hearts.

Come then, dear friend; at least 'tis worth the trial;
Methinks to you she dares not breathe denial;
And when we're married, as I hope we shall,

You and my wife shall lead the bridal ball;
Yours be the first fair slice of wedding cake,
And all the kisses you may choose to take

Wales, Summer of 1827.

WRITTEN ON THE TOP OF SNOWDON.

AGAIN* I rest me on thy eirie height,

Thou monarch of the cloudy diadem!
Again I quaff" the fierce and far delight,"-
The nectar of thy breezes,-and in them
There breathes a spirit, which upbears me high
O'er thy bare peak; so wild! so full

Of majesty of terror! I might try

To soar thus freely 'mid the stagnant, dull

Crowd of the city,-but in vain. Oh thus

Thus would I mount to heaven! but not as now

To see dark clouds careering over us;

But to view all the glory of His brow,

Whose very light is heaven; and spurn the clod

Of this cold world, to rest in happiness and God.

Wales, Sept. 4, 1827.

The following note was appended to these lines: "I had ascended it once before on that day." (ED.)