Oh! keep the morning of His incarnation, WITHER. TREES. HAIL! old patrician trees, so great and good, Where the poetic birds rejoice, And for their quiet nests and plenteous food Here Nature does a house for me erect- Who those fond artists doth despise, Here let me, careless and unthoughtful lying, With all the wanton boughs dispute, And the more tuneful birds to both replying, Nor be myself too mute. COWLEY. HAPPINESS. BUT where to find that happiest spot below, GOLDSMITH. PASTORAL SONG. COME, Anna, come! the morning dawns, Come let us seek the dewy lawns, And watch the early lark arise; While Nature, clad in vesture gay, Hails the loved return of day. PASTORAL SONG. Our flocks that nip the scanty blade And watch the silver clouds above, Come, Anna! come! and bring thy lute, And then at eve, when silence reigns, KIRKE WHITE. 159 PAUL AND SILAS. 'Tis night-the heavens are calm and clear, O'er their blue depths no clouds do lower; And crescent moon and twinkling star Come forth to grace the solemn hour. Hush'd are the birds, and every flower Sleeps on its stem till morn shall glow ; And scarce the drowsy breeze has power To stir one leaf on forest bough. Whence then those strains, which rise and fall As the soft night-wind floats along? Do joyous guests in banquet-hall Yet weave the dance and raise the song? Is't, then, some solemn festal night, To mingle in the house of prayer? No votary breathes the vow divine, And where the torch is wont to glare, Nought but the silver moonbeams shine. PAUL AND SILAS. 161 Go, wend thy way where dark and grim Oh! what to them is prison gloom, The strong man's might, the oppressor's pride, If, in the darkling hour of doom, Omnipotence be on their side? 'Tis but the tempest to outride, Then, welcome heaven's eternal calm! 'Tis but a few more pangs to bide, And then, the victor's crown and palm. MRS. HEY. M |