"That rushing o'er th' unshelter'd waste
Bears the old thorn's white load on high,
Or plows the earth with frightful haste;
The dried grass mounts, the hail stones fly.
"Then o'er the hill, with furious sweep,

It writhes, it rends the shiv'ring tree—
Sure-footed beast thy road thou'lt keep:
Nor storm nor darkness startles thee!
"O blest assurance! trusty steed

To thee the buried road is known!
Home, all the spur thy footsteps need,
When loose the frozen rein is thrown.
"Between the roaring blasts that shake
The naked elder at the door,

Though not one prattler to me speak,
Their sleeping sighs delight me more.
"Sound is their rest-they little know
What pain, what cold their father feels;
But dream perhaps they see him now,
While each the promised orange peels.
"Would it were so! The fire burns bright,
And on the warming trencher gleams;
In expectation's raptured sight

How precious his arrival seems!

"I'll look abroad! -'tis piercing cold!— How this bleak wind assails his breast! Yet there the parting clouds unfold : The storm is verging in the west. "There shines a star!-O welcome sight!Through the thin vapours bright'ning still Yet, 'twas beneath the fairest night

66

The murd❜rer stain'd yon lonely hill.

Mercy, kind Heav'n! such thoughts dispel! No voice, no foot is heard around!

Perhaps he's near the haunted well!

Or by the gibbet or the pound!
"Distressing hour! 'tis very late!
O Mercy, Mercy, guide him home!
Hark! then I heard the distant gate-
Repeat it, echo! quickly come!

"That rushing o'er th' unshelter'd waste
Bears the old thorn's white load on high,
Or plows the earth with frightful haste;
The dried grass mounts, the hail stones fly.
"Then o'er the hill, with furious sweep,

It writhes, it rends the shiv'ring tree-
Sure-footed beast thy road thou❜lt keep:
Nor storm nor darkness startles thee!
"O blest assurance! trusty steed

To thee the buried road is known!
Home, all the spur thy footsteps need,
When loose the frozen rein is thrown.
"Between the roaring blasts that shake
The naked elder at the door,

Though not one prattler to me speak,
Their sleeping sighs delight me more.
"Sound is their rest-they little know
What pain, what cold their father feels;
But dream perhaps they see him now,
While each the promised orange peels.
"Would it were so! The fire burns bright,
And on the warming trencher gleams;
In expectation's raptured sight

How precious his arrival seems!

"I'll look abroad!-'tis piercing cold!-
How this bleak wind assails his breast!

Yet there the parting clouds unfold:
The storm is verging in the west.

"There shines a star!-O welcome sight!—

gh the thin vapours bright'ning still!

"One minute now will cease my fears--
Or still more wretched must I be!
No! surely Heav'n has spared our tears,
I see him clothed in snow-'tis he.-
"Where have stray'd? put
you

down

your

How have you borne the storm, the cold?
What horrors did I not forebode !-

That beast is worth his weight in gold."
Thus spoke the joyful wife ;-then ran
In grateful steams to hide her head :
Dapple was housed, the weary man

With joy glanced o'er the children's bed.
"What all asleep!—so best;" he cried;
O what a night I've travelled through !
Unseen, unheard, I might have died;

But Heav'n has brought me safe to you. "Dear partner of my nights and days,

That smile becomes thee !---Let us then Learn, though mishap may cross our ways, It is not ours to reckon when."

load;

BLOOMFIELD.

THE IMMORTAL MIND.

When coldness wraps this suffering clay,
Ah! whither strays the immortal mind?

It cannot die, it cannot stay,

But leaves its darken'd dust behind.
Then, unembodied, doth it trace

By steps each planet's heavenly way?
Or fill at once the realms of space,
A thing of eyes, that all survey?
Eternal, boundless, undecay'd,

A thought unseen, but seeing all,
All, all in earth, or skies display'd,
Shall it survey, shall it recall:
Each fainter trace that memory holds
So darkly of departed years,
In one broad glance the soul beholds,
And all, that was, at once appears.

Before Creation peopled earth,

Its eyes shall roll through chaos back;
And where the furthest heaven had birth,
The spirit trace its rising track.
And where the future mars or makes,
Its glance dilate o'er all to be,

While sun is quench'd or system breaks,
Fix'd in its own eternity.

Above, or Love, Hope, Hate, or Fear,

It lives all passionless and pure :
An age shall fleet like earthly year;
Its years as moments shall endure.
Away, away, without a wing

O'er all, through all, its thought shall fly:
A nameless and eternal thing,
Forgetting what it was to die.

TO THE LARK.

Mount, child of morning, mount and sing,
And gaily beat thy fluttering wing,
And sound thy shrill alarms:
Bathed in the fountains of the dew,
Thy sense is keen, thy joys are new;
The wide world opens to thy view,
And spreads its earliest charms.

Far shower'd around, the hill, the plain
Catch the glad impulse of thy strain,
And fling their veil aside;
While warm with hope and rapturous joy
Thy thrilling lay rings cheerily,
Love swells its notes and liberty,

And youth's exulting pride.

Thy little bosom knows no ill,
No gloomy thought, no wayward will:
"Tis sunshine all and ease.

BYRON.