Every thing did banish moan, None takes pity on thy pain: Senseless trees, they cannot hear thee, Ruthless beasts, they will not cheer thee; King Pandiva, he is dead, All thy friends are lapp'd in lead: R. BARNEFIELD, THE NIGHTINGALE'S SONG. ROUND my own pretty rose I have hovered all day, I have seen its sweet leaves one by one fall away: They are gone, they are gone; but I go not with them, I linger to weep o'er its desolate stem. They say if I rove to the south I shall meet With hundreds of roses more fair and more sweet; But my heart, when I'm tempted to wander, replies, Here my first love, my last love, my only love lies. When the last leaf is withered, and falls to the earth, The false one to southerly climes may fly forth; But truth cannot fly from his sorrows: he dies, Where his first love, his last love, his only love lies. T. H. BAYLY. THE NIGHTINGALE'S DEATHSONG. MOURNFULLY, sing mournfully, The rose, the glorious rose, is gone, The skies have lost their splendor, The waters changed their tone, And wherefore, in the faded world, Should music linger on? Where is the golden sunshine, And where the flower-cup's glow? And where the joy of the dancing leaves, And the fountain's laughing flow? Tell of the brightness parted, With sunshine, with sweet odor, Alone I shall not linger When the days of hope are past, To watch the fall of leaf by leaf, To wait the rushing blast. FLIGHT OF THE WILD GEESE. RAMBLING along the marshes, Whether I was in the right, And if I burnt the strongest light; High in the air, I heard the travelled geese Stirred above the patent ball, Nor near so wild as that doth me befall, Or, swollen Wisdom, you. In the front there fetched a leader, Him behind the line spread out, And waved about, As it was near night, When these air-pilots stop their flight. Cruising off the shoal dominion Depending not on their opinion, Naming not a pond or river, Pulled with twilight down in fact, Spectators at the play below, "Let's brush loose for any creek, Flutter not about a place, Mute the listening nations stand Appears no bigger than a mouse. How long? Never is a question asked, All the grandmothers about Then once more I heard them say,"Tis a smooth, delightful road, Difficult to lose the way, And a trifle for a load. ""Twas our forte to pass for this, Proper sack of sense to borrow, Wings and legs, and bills that clat ter, And the horizon of To-morrow." CHANNING. |