There all is cheerful, calm, and fair, By thee-my own Fireside! Thy precints are a charmed ring, Where no harsh feeling dares intrude; Where life's vexations lose their sting; Where even grief is half subdued: And Peace, the halcyon, loves to brood. Then, let the pamper'd fool deride, I'll pay my debt of gratitude To thee-my own Fireside! Shrine of my household deities! Fair scene of my home's unsullied joys! To thee my burthen'd spirit flies, When fortune frowns, or care annoys : Thine is the bliss that never cloys; The smile whose truth hath oft been tried; Oh, may the yearnings, fond and sweet, A. WATTS. A HAPPY COUNTRY DWELLING. Low was our pretty cot: our tallest rose Peep'd at the chamber-window. We could hear At silent noon, and eve, and early morn, The sea's faint murmur. In the open air Our myrtles blossom'd; and across the porch Thick jasmins twined; the little landscape round Was green and woody, and refresh'd the eye. It was a spot which you might aptly call The Valley of Seclusion! Once I saw (Hallowing his sabbath-day by quietness) A wealthy son of commerce saunter by, Bristowa's citizen: methought, it calm'd His thirst of idle gold, and made him muse With wiser feelings: for he paused, and look'd With a pleased sadness, and he gazed all around. Then eyed our cottage, and gazed round again, And sigh'd, and said, it was a blessed place. And we were blessed. Oft with patient ear Long-listening to the viewless sky-lark's note (Viewless, or haply for a moment seen Gleaming on sunny wing) in whisper'd tones, I've said to my beloved, "Such, sweet girl! The unobtrusive song of happiness, Unearthly minstrelsy! then only heard When the soul seeks to hear; when all is hush'd, And the heart listens!" COLERIDGE. THE HAPPY PARENTS. MEANTIME a smiling offspring rises round, The human blossom blows: and every day, And nothing strikes your eye but sights of bliss; Retirement, rural quiet, friendship, books, To scenes where love and bliss immortal reign. THOMSON. THE HOMES OF ENGLAND. THE stately Homes of England, How beautiful they stand, The deer across their greensward bound And the swan glides past them with the sound The merry Homes of England! Around their hearths by night, What gladsome looks of household love There woman's voice flows forth in song, That breathes from sabbath-hours! Floats through their woods at morn; All other sounds, in that still time, The Cottage-Homes of England! The free, fair Homes of England! Long, long, in hut and hall, May hearts of native proof be rear'd, To guard each hallow'd wall! And green for ever be the groves, And bright the flowery sod, Where first the child's glad spirit loves Its Country and its God! MRS. HEMANS. FAMILY WORSHIP. THE cheerfu' supper done, wi' serious face, His lyart haffets wearin thin an' bare Those strains that once did sweet in Zion glide, He wales a portion with judicious care; [air. And "Let us worship God!" he says, with solemn They chant their artless notes in simple guise; They tune their hearts, by far the noblest aim: Perhaps Dundee's wild warbling measures rise, Or plaintive Martyrs, worthy of the name: Or noble Elgin beets the heavenward flame; The sweetest far of Scotia's holy laws: Compared with these, Italian trills are tame; The tickled ears no heart-felt rapture raise; Nae unison hae they with our Creator's praise. The priest-like father reads the sacred page, How Abram was the friend of God on high; Or, Moses bade eternal warfare wage With Amalek's ungracious progeny; |