DANÄE. WHILST, around her lone ark sweeping, In that sinless rest of thine. O mine Innocent, my Fair! Thou would'st lend thy little ear, And this heart of thine might borrow Haply yet a moment's cheer. But no; slumber on, Babe, slumber; Slumber, Ocean-waves; and you, My dark troubles, without number,— O, that ye would slumber too! Though with wrongs they've brimmed my chalice, Grant Jove, that, in future years, This boy may defeat their malice, And avenge his mother's tears." Translation of WILLIAM PETER, SIMONIDES. (Greek.) BOYHOOD. AH, then how sweetly closed those crowded days! The minutes parting one by one like rays, But oh! what charm, or magic numbers Can give me back the gentle slumbers Those weary, happy days did leave? When by my bed I saw my mother kneel, And with her blessing took her nightly kiss; Whatever Time destroys, he cannot this— E'en now that nameless kiss I feel. WASHINGTON ALLSTON. I REMEMBER, I REMEMBER. They wept,—and, turning homeward, cried, Then downwards from the steep hill's edge And then an open field they crossed— The marks were still the same: They tracked them on, nor ever lost; And to the bridge they came. They followed from the snowy bank And further there were none ! -Yet some maintain that to this day She is a living child; That you may see sweet Lucy Gray Upon the lonesome wild. O'er rough and smooth she trips along, And sings a solitary song WILLIAM WORDSWORTII. CHILDHOOD. In my poor mind it is most sweet to muse Make posies in the sun, which the child's hand (Childhood offended soon, soon reconciled,) Would throw away, and straight take up again, Then fling them to the winds, and o'er the lawn Bound with so playful and so light a foot, That the pressed daisy scarce declined her head. CHARLES LAMB. UNDER MY WINDOW. UNDER my window, under my window, All in the Midsummer weather, Three little girls with fluttering curls Flit to and fro together : 159 There's Bell with her bonnet of satin sheen, And Maud with her mantle of silver-green, And Kate with her scarlet feather. Under my window, under my window, Merry and clear, the voice I hear Of each glad-hearted rover. Under my window, under my window, Under my window, under my window, T. WESTWOOD. I REMEMBER, I REMEMBER. I REMEMBER, I remember The house where I was born, I remember, I remember |