We are immortals! Earth to us is vain;
The lesson of our vigour must be pain.
Is the world in thee still, thy heart a tide
Still rolling with the gusts of passion, pride? —
Go to the house of mourning! see the eye,
Rais'd in its meek submissiveness, to die;
The bloom, like roses once, now sunk and sere;
Check not the tear; there 's virtue in that tear.
'T is not in mockery thus that Death betrays
His footsteps; 't is to force, — to fix our gaze.
Go to the house of mourning! Is there one,
Dear to such thoughts as manly hearts may own,

In answer to the preceding

— I, that have been Love's whip,
A very beadle to a hmorous sigh

Sure thou at least did never prove
" The pangs, the bliss that wait on love, "
Nor felt within thy throbbing heart,
The witching anguish of his dart;
Nor round thy brow his myrtle worn,
Nor pluck'd his rose of many a thorn;
Or, trust me, thou would'st ne'er suppose,
That one who felt his pleasing woes;
Whose heart confess'd his thrilling joy,
Could calmly sit and paint the boy.

1. THE BATTLE OF BRUNANBURH

Her Æþelstan cyning, eorla dryhten,
beorna beahgifa, and his broþor eac,
Eadmund aeþeling, ealdorlangne tir
geslogon aet saecce sweorda ecgum
ymbe Brunanburh. Bordweal clufan,
heowan heaþolinde hamora lafan,
afaran Eadweardes, swa him geaeþele waes
from cneomaegum, þaet hi aet campe oft
wiþ laþra gehwaene land ealgodon,
hord and hamas. Hettend crungun,
Sceotta leoda and scipflotan
faege feollan, feld daennede
secga swate, si├░þan sunne up

I.

" Oh where's that fount, whose cleansing ray
" Would wash this little orb away?
" That seems, as if by dread command,
" To linger on this little hand.
" I've dipp'd it in the Ocean's stream,
" When fairies hail the lunar beam;
" And when the sun-light gilds each wave,
" In Ocean's breast my hand I 'd lave;
" But not the dark sea's shining spray
" Would wash this little orb away. "

II.

Thus spoke a child; while passing by,
A friar heard the infant sigh,
" Look up, look up, my boy, " he cried;

I.

Flora gave me my choice of the sweetest of flowers;
That grew ever bright in her meadows and bowers,
And the one which I chose I still wear with me now,
Oh, it smooths my repose, and it brightens my brow:
Yet take it, dear youth, it but bloometh for thee,
And will not bloom less bright tho' parted from me;
No, a blush will surround it, all viewless before,
When plac'd near the heart of the youth I adore.

II.

Oh, few are the moments, on life's dreary waste,
Of enjoyment, we mortals are destin'd to taste;

I.

Look on this glass at midnight's hour,
For then some fairy lends it the power
To shew to a lover's anxious eyes,
A sight not soon effac'd or forgot,
And disclose, if the nymph for whom he sighs,
Wears a heart that is his alone or not.

II.

Breathe but the name, and if she's sincere,
The mirror remains all cloudless and clear;
But, should she be false, a gathering cloud
Will startle the lover's anxious gaze, —

I.

O come, all fair and shining as thou art,
Light of my eyes, and treasure of my heart;
With me implore the holy Bridget's power,
To crown with resignation life's last hour.

II.

Then when we give to heaven the gift she gave,
And sink together in the peaceful grave,
The saint will lend her ever bright'ning smile,
And point above to some celestial isle

I.

How sweet is our youth, when Love lights up each feature,
And sweet are the spring-birds that sing in each grove,
And sweet are the roses when blooming — but sweeter
The shamrock presented by hands that we love
Oh, bright's the plant at close of even,
When it is with smile approving,
By some blushing maiden given

I.

The fountain of wealth was kept, they say,
By a genius all wither'd, and shrivell'd, and old,
Who pass'd each hour that roll'd in the day,
In counting his treasure, his jewels, and gold.
When he lay down to sleep, he trembled and wept,
For he thought of the girl, who, while he slept,
He charg'd to protect, with her utmost care,
Each gem that was costly, precious, and rare.
Nor vain were his fears; for one cloudless night,

I.

The Hindoo Maid, when her fond lover sails
At glory's call to tempt the dangerous sea,
Thus seeks to know if soft propitious gales
Will rise for him where'er his vessel be.

II.

A lamp within a radiant shell is plac'd,
(In which some sea-god had a fairy dream,)
And then 'tis launched upon the boundless waste
Of the bright Ganges ever-rolling stream.

III.

Far as the eye can reach, if the light burns,