As down a lone valley with cedars o'erspread
From war's dread confusion I pensively strayed,
The gloom from the face of fair heaven retired
The winds hushed their murmurs, the thunders expired;
Perfumes as of Eden flowed sweetly along
A voice as of angels, enchantingly sung,
A voice as of angels enchantingly sung,
Columbia, Columbia, to glory arise,
The queen of the world and the child of the skies.

Fair science her gate to thy sons shall unbar,
And the east see thy morn hide the beams of her star.

As doth his heart who travels far from home
Leap up whenever he by chance doth see
One from his mother-country lately come,
Friend from my home — thus do I welcome thee.
Thou art so late arrived that I the tale
Of thy high lineage on thy brow can trace,
And almost feel the breath of that soft gale
That wafted thee unto this desert place,
And half can hear those ravishing sounds that flowed
From out Heaven's gate when it was oped for thee,
That thou awhile mightst leave thy bright abode
Amid these lone and desolate tracks to be

A TALE.

A S Dolly and her fav'rite Swain
Were interrupted by the Rain,
From tedding out the fragrant Hay;
Beneath a shelt'ring Cock they lay:
When thus the lovely, longing Jade,
Unto the drowzy Shepherd said,
Nay, prithee Lobby , why so sleepy?
Indeed — upon my Word I'll nip ye. — —
How pretty might we sit, and chat,
Tell o'er old Stories, and all that. —
But you — O L — d, the careless Beast!
As if Folks lie down to take Rest.
Lob , half asleep, made no Replies,
Or answer'd with a Grunt her Sighs.

As Dick and I
Were a-sailing by
At Fulham bridge, I cock'd my eye,
And says I, " Add-zooks!
There's Theodore Hook's,
Whose Sayings and Doings make such pretty books."

" I wonder," says I,
Still keeping my eye

I

As dainty a sight as ever I did see!
In a drifting boat with an hour to spare
On the coast of the land of the kilted knee
Under the sea-cliff's shadows, where
A flash of boys, slender and debonair
Laugh in a lovely disarray
Fear they know not nor never a care
The boys who bathe in Saint Andrew's Bay.

II

Deep blue waters as blue can be

As Cupid in a garden strayed,
Transported with the damask shade,
A little bee unseen among
The silken weeds his finger stung.

2

As tears his beauteous cheeks ran down,
He stormed, he blowed the burning wound;
Then flying to a neighboring grove
Thus plaintive told the queen of love:

3

" Ah, ah, mama, ah me, I die!
A little insect, winged to fly —
It's called a bee, on yonder plain
It stung me. Oh! I die with pain. "

4

Then Venus mildly thus rejoined,
" If you, my dear, such anguish find

As clever Tom Clinch, while the rabble was bawling,
Rode stately through Holborn, to die in his calling;
He stopt at the George for a bottle of sack,
And promis'd to pay for it when he'd come back.
His waistcoat and stockings, and breeches were white,
His cap had a new cherry ribbon to tie't.
The maids to the doors and the balconies ran,
And said, lack-a-day! he's a proper young man.
But, as from the windows the ladies he spied,
Like a beau in the box, he bow'd low on each side;
And when his last speech the loud hawkers did cry,

As children bring their broken toys,
With tears, for us to mend,
I brought my broken dreams to God,
Because He was my Friend.

But then, instead of leaving Him
In peace, to work alone;
I hung around and tried to help
With ways that were my own.

At last I snatched them back and cried,
“How can You be so slow?”
“My child,” He said, “what could I do?
You never did let go!”

As beneath the moon I walked,
Dog-at-heel my shadow stalked,
Keeping ghostly company:
And as we went gallantly
Down the fell-road, dusty-white,
Round us in the windy night
Bracken, rushes, bent and heather
Whispered ceaselessly together:
" Would he ever journey more,
Ever stride so carelessly,
If he knew what lies before,
And could see what we can see? "

As I listened, cold with dread,
Every hair upon my head
Strained to hear them talk of me,
Whispering, whispering ceaselessly:
" Folly's fool the man must be,

As Ann came in one summer's day,
She felt that she must creep,
So silent was the clear cool house,
It seemed a house of sleep
And sure, when she pushed open the door,
Rapt in the stillness there,
Her mother sat, with stooping head,
Asleep upon a chair;
Fast — fast asleep; her two hands laid
Loose-folded on her knee,
So that her small unconscious face
Looked half unreal to be:
So calmly lit with sleep's pale light
Each feature was; so fair
Her forehead — every trouble was
Smoothed out beneath her hair.