If there were one among us who had heard That Leonard Ewbank was come home again,

From the Great Gavel,* down by Leeza's banks,

And down the Enna, far as Egremont,
The day would be a joyous festival;
And those two beils of ours, which there you

see

Hanging in the open air-but, O good Sir! This is sad talk-they'll never sound for him

Living or dead.-When last we heard of him,

He was in slavery among the Moors Upon the Barbary coast.-'Twas not a little

That would bring down his spirit; and no doubt,

Before it ended in his death, the Youth Was sadly crossed.-Poor Leonard! when we parted,

He took me by the hand, and said to me,
If e'er he should grow rich, he would re-
turn,

To live in peace upon his father's land,
And lay his bones among us.

Leonard.
If that day
Should come, 'twould needs be a glad day
for him;

He would himself, no doubt, be happy then
As any that should meet him-
Priest.
Happy! Sir-
Leonard. You said his kindred all were
in their graves,

And that he had one Brother

Priest.

That is but A fellow-tale of sorrow. From his youth James, though not sickly, yet was delicate; And Leonard being always by his side Had done so many offices about him, That, though he was not of a timid nature, Yet still the spirit of a mountain-boy In him was somewhat checked; and, when his Brother

Was gone to sea, and he was left alone, The little color that he had was soon Stolen from his cheek; he drooped, and pined, and pined

Leonard. But these are all the graves of full-grown men !

* The Great Gavel, so called, I imagine, from its resemblance to the gable end of a house, is one of the highest of the Cumberland mountains.

The Leeza is a river which flows into the Lake of Ennerdale.

He was the child of all the dale-he lived Three months with one, and six months with another;

And wanted neither food, nor clothes, nor love:

And many, many happy days were his.
But, whether blithe or sad, 'tis my belief
His absent Brother still was at his heart.
And, when he dwelt beneath our roof, we
found

(A practice till this time unknown to him)
That often, rising from his bed at night,
He in his sleep would walk about, and
sleeping

He sought his brother Leonard.-You are moved!

Forgive me, Sir: before I spoke to you,
I judged you most unkindly.
Leonard.

How did he die at last?

Priest.

But this Youth,

One sweet May morning, (It will be twelve years since when Spring returns)

He had gone forth among the new-dropped lambs,

With two or three companions, whom their

course

Of occupation led from height to height Under a cloudless sun-till he, at length, Through weariness, or, haply, to indulge The humor of the moment, lagged behind. You see yon precipice-it wears the shape Of a vast building made of many crags; And in the midst is one particular rock That rises like a column from the vale, Whence by our shepherds it is called THE PILLAR.

Upon its aëry summit crowned with heath, The loiterer, not unnoticed by his comrades, Lay stretched at ease; but, passing by the place

[gone.

On their return, they found that he was No ill was feared; till one of them by chance

Entering, when evening was far spent, the house

Which at that time was James's home, there learned

That nobody had seen him all that day: The morning came, and still he was unheard of:

The neighbors were alarmed, and to the brook

Some hastened: some ran to the lake: ere

noon

Dead, and with mangled limbs. The third day after

I buried him, poor Youth, and there he lies!
Leonard. And that then is his grave!
Before his death

You say that he saw many happy years?
Priest. Ay, that he did-

Leonard. And all went well with him?— Priest. If he had one, the youth had twenty homes.

Leonard. And you believe, then, that his mind was easy?

Priest. Yes, long before he died, he found that time

Is a true friend to sorrow; and unless His thoughts were turned on Leonard's luckless fortune,

He talked about him with a cheerful love. Leonard. He could not come to an un

hallowed end!

Priest. Nay, God forbid! You recollect

I mentioned

treating

That Leonard would partake his homely fare:

The other thanked him with an earnest voice;

But added, that, the evening being calm, He would pursue his journey. So they parted.

It was not long ere Leonard reached a grove

That overhung the road: he there stopped short,

And, sitting down beneath the trees, reAll that the Priest had said: his early years viewed Were with him :—his long absence, cherished And thoughts which had been his an hour hopes, All pressed on him with such a weight that before,

now

O, happy Britain! region all too fair
For self-delighting fancy to endure
That silence only should inhabit there,
Wild beasts, or uncouth savages impure!
But, intermingled with the generous seed,
Grew many a poisonous weed;

Thus fares it still with all that takes its birth

From human care, or grows upon the breast of earth.

Hence, and how soon! that war of venge ance waged

By Guendolen against her faithless lord;
Till she, in jealous fury unassuaged
Had slain his paramour with ruthless sword:
Then into Severn hideously defiled,
She flung her blameless child,
Sabrina.-vowing that the stream should

bear

That name through every age, her hatred to declare.

So speaks the Chronicle, and tells of Lear
By his ungrateful daughters turned adrift.
Ye lightnings, hear his voice!-they cannot
hear,

Nor can the winds restore his simple gift.
But One there is, a Child of nature meek,
Who comes her Sire to seek,
And he, recovering sense, upon her breast
Leans smilingly, and sinks into a perfect

rest.

The feats of Arthur and his knightly peers; Of Arthur,-who to upper light restored, With that terrific sword

Which yet he brandishes for future war, Shall lift his country's fame above the polar star!

What wonder, then, in such ample field
Of old tradition, one particular flower
Doth seemingly in vain its fragrance yield
And bloom unnoticed even to this late hour?
Now, gentle Muses, your assistance grant,
While I this flower transplant

Into a garden stored with Poesy;
Where flowers and herbs unite, and haply
some weeds be,

That, wanting not wild grace, are from all mischief free!

A KING more worthy of respect and love Than wise Gorbonian ruled not in his day; And grateful Britain prospered far above All neighboring countries through his righteous sway;

He poured rewards and honors on the good; The oppressor he withstood;

And while he served the Gods with rever-
Fields smiled, and temples rose, and towns
ence due
and cities grew.

He died, whom Artegal succeeds-his son;
A hopeful reign, auspiciously begun,
But how unworthy of that sire was he!
Was darkened soon by foul iniquity.
From crime to crime he mounted, till at
length

The nobles leagued their strength
With a vexed people, and the tyrant chased;
And, on the vacant throne, his worthier
brother placed.

From realm to realm the humble Exile went,
Suppliant for aid his kingdom to regain;
In many a court, and many a warrior's tent,
He urged his persevering suit in vain.
Him, in whose wretched heart ambition
failed,

Dire poverty assailed;

And, tired with slights his pride no more could brook,

He towards his native country cast a longing look.

Fair blew the wished-for wind-the voyage sped;

He landed; and, by many dangers scared,
"Poorly provided, poorly followed,"
To Calaterium's forest he repaired.

Had swayed the royal mace, Flattered and feared, despised yet deified, In Troynovant, his seat by silver Thames's side!

From that wild region where the crownless King

Lay in concealment with his scanty train, Supporting life by water from the spring, And such chance food as outlaws can obtain,

Unto the few whom he esteems his friends A messenger he sends;

borne,

Thy royal mantle worn:

I was their "atural guardian; and 'tis just That now I should restore what hath been held in trust."

Awhile the astonished Artegal stood mute, Then thus exclaimed: "To me, of titles shorn,

And stripped of power! me, feeble, destitute,
To me a kingdom! spare the bitter scorn:
If justice ruled the breast of foreign kings,
Then, on the wide-spread wings
Of war, had I returned to claim my right;

desires.

While he the issue waits, at early morn Wandering by stealth abroad, he chanced to hear

A startling outcry made by hound and horn, From which the tusky wild boar flies in fear; And, scouring toward him o'er the grassy plain,

Behold the hunter train!

He bids his little company advance

despite."

"I do not blame thee," Elidure replied;
"But, if my looks did with my words agree,
I should at once be trusted, not defied,

And thou from all disquietude be free.
May the unsullied Goddess of the chase,
At this blest moment led me, if I speak
Who to this blessed place
With insincere intent, on me her vengeance
wreak!

tenance.

The royal Elidure, who leads the chase, Hath checked his foaming courser :-can it be!

Methinks that I should recognize that face, Though much disguised by long adversity! He gazed rejoicing, and again he gazed, Confounded and amazed

grasp,

The British sceptre, here would I to thee The symbol yield; and would undo this clasp,

If it confined the robe of sovereignty.
Odious to me the pomp of regal court,

And joyless sylvan sport,

While thou art roving, wretched and forlorn,

the ground.

forest thorn!"

Then Artegal thus spake: "I only sought Within this realm a place of safe retreat;

gave,

Feebly returned by daunted Artegal;
Whose natural affection doubts enslave,
And apprehensions dark and criminal.
Loth to restrain the moving interview,

The attendant lords withdrew;

And, while they stood upon the plain apart, Thus Elidure, by words, relieved his struggling heart.

"By heavenly Powers conducted, we have met;

-O Brother! to my knowledge lost so long,
But neither lost to love, nor to regret,
Nor to my wishes lost;-forgive the wrong,

Beware of kindling hopes, for me unmeet! Thou art reputed wise, but in my mind

And this for one who cannot imitate
Thy virtue, who may hate :
For, if, by such strange sacrifice restored,
He reign, thou still must be his king and
sovereign lord;

Lifted in magnanimity above

Aught that my feeble nature could perform,
Or even conceive; surpassing me in love
Far as in power the eagle doth the worm :
1, Brother! only should be king in name,
And govern to my shame;

A shadow in a hated land, while all

Of glad or willing service to thy share would fall."

"Believe it not," said Elidure; "respect Awaits on virtuous life, and ever most Attends on goodness with dominion decked, Which stands the universal empire's boast; This can thy own experience testify:

Nor shall thy foes deny

That, in the gracious opening of thy reign, Our father's spirit seemed in thee to breathe again.

And what if o'er that bright unbosoming
Clouds of disgrace and envious fortune past!
Have we not seen the glories of the spring
By veil of noontide darkness overcast?
The frith that glittered like a warrior's
shield,

The sky, the gay green field,

Are vanished; gladness ceases in the groves, And trepidation strikes the blackened moun

Seems the wide world, far brighter than before!

Even so thy latent worth will re-appear, Gladdening the people's heart from shore to shore ;

For youthful faults ripe virtues shall atone; Re-seated on thy throne,

Proof shalt thou furnish that misfortune, pain,

And sorrow, have confirmed thy native right to reign.

But, not to overlook what thou may'st know,
Thy enemies are neither weak nor few;
And circumspect must be our course, and
slow,

Or from my purpose ruin may ensue.
Dismiss thy followers;-let them calmly

wait

Such changes in thy estate

As I already have in thought devised;
And which, with caution due, may soon be
realized."

The Story tells what courses were pursued,
Until king Elidure, with full consent
Of all his peers, before the multitude,
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

Of vice-thenceforth unable to subvert
Or shake his high desert.

Long did he reign; and, when he died, the

tear

Of universal grief bedewed his honored bier. Thus was a Brother by a Brother saved; With whom a crown (temptation that hath set

Discord in hearts of men till they have braved

Their nearest kin with deadly purpose met) 'Gainst duty weighed, and faithful love, did

seem

TO A BUTTERFLY.
I'VE watch'd you now a full half-hour,
Self-poised upon that yellow flower;
And, little Butterfly I indeed

I know not if you sleep or feed.
How motionless!-not frozen seas
More motionless! and then
What joy awaits you, when the breeze
Hath found you out among the trees,
And calls you forth again!

This plot of orchard-ground is ours:
My trees they are, my Sister's flowers;
Here rest your wings when they are weary;
Here lodge as in a sanctuary!