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Let heeves and home-hred kine partake

The sweets of Burn-mill meadow;

The swan on still St. Mary's Lake

Float double, swan and shadow! Yarrow Unvisited.

O for a single hour of that Dundee

Who on that day the word of onset gave!'

Soanet, in the Pass of Killieranky. A remnant of uneasy light. The Matron ofJedhoremgh.

But thou, that didst appear so fair

To fond imagination,
Dost rival in the light of day

Her delicate ereation. Yarrow Visited.

Men are we, and must grieve when even the Shade
Of that which onee was great is passed away.

Poems dedicated to National lndependence. Part i. On the
Extinction of the Venetian Republic.

Thou hast left behind
Powers that will work for thee; air, earth, and skies;
There 's not a breathing of the common wind
That will forget thee; thou hast great allies;
Thy friends are exuitations, agonies,
And love, and man's uneonquerahle mind.

To Toussaint L'Ouverture.

Two voices are there; one is of the sea.
One of the mountains; each a mighty Voiee.

Thought of a Briton on the Subjugation of Switzerland.

1 It was on this occasion (the failure in energy of Lord Mar at the hattle of Shenffmulr) that Gordon of Glenhueket made the celebrated exclamation, "O for an hour of Dundee!" — Mahon's History of England, Vol. i. p. 184.

O for one hour of blind old Dnndolo,

The oetogenarian chief, Byzantium's conquering foe!

Byron, Childe Harold, Canto iv. Stanza 12.

Plain living and high thinking are no more.
The homely beauty of the good old cause
Is gone; our peace, our fearful innocence,
And pure religion breathing household laws.

Poems dedicated to National lndependence. Part i.
September, 1802.

Thy soul was like a Star, and dwelt apart. London, 1802.

So didst thou travel on life's common way,

In cheerful godliness. ibid.

We must be free or die, who speak the tongue
That Shakespeare spake; the faith and morals hold
Which Milton held. Sonnet xvl.

Every gift of noble origin is breathed upon by Hope's perpetual breath. Sonnet xx.

A few strong instincts, and a few plain rules.

Part ii. Sonnet xii. That God's most dreaded instrument,

In working out a pure intent,

is man, arrayed for mutual slaughter ;

Yea, Carnage is his danghter.1 Ode, 1815.

The sightless Milton, with his hair

Around his placid temples eurled;

And Shakespeare at his side,—a freight,

If elay could think and mind were weight,

For him who bore the world! The Italian ltinerant.

Turning, for them who pass, the common dust

Of servile opportunity to gold. Desultory stanzas.

i Altered in later editions by omitting the last two lines, the others reading,

But Man is thy most awful instrument
in working out a pure intent.

Meek Nature's evening comment on the shows
That for oblivion take their daily birth
From all the fuming vanities of Earth.

Sky-Prospect, from the Plain of France.

The monumental pomp of age
Was with this goodly Personage;
A stature undepressed in size,
Unbent, which rather seemed to rise,
In open victory o'er the weight
Of seventy years, to loftier height.

The White Doe of Rylstone. Canto iii.

Babylon,
Learned and wise, hath perished utterly,
Nor leaves her Speech one word to aid the sigh
That would lament her.

Ecclesiastical Sonnets. Part i. xxr. Missions and Travels.

As thou these ashes, little Brook! wilt bear
Into the Avon, Avon to the tide
Of Severn, Severn to the narrow seas,
Into main ocean they, this deed accursed
An emblem yields to friends and enemies
How the bold Teacher's Doctrine, sanctified
By truth, shall spread, throughout the world dispersed.1

Part ii. xvii. To Wicklife.

1 In obedience to the order of the Council of Constance (1415), the remains of AYickliffc were exhumed and burnt to ashes, and these cast into the Swift, a neighbouring brook running hard by, and "thus this brook hath conveyed his ashes into Avon; Avon into Severn; Severn into the narrow seas; they into the main ocean. And thus the ashes of Wickliffe are the emblem of his doctrine, which now is dispersed all the world over." — Fuller, Church History, Sec. ii. Book iv. Par. 53.

Fox says: "What Heraclitus would not laugh, or what Democritus would not weep? . . . . For though they digged up his body, burnt his bones, and drowned his ashes, yet the Word of God and

The feather, whence the pen Was shaped that traced the lives of these good men, Dropped from an angel's wing.1

Eeelesiastical Soanets. Part Hi. v. Walton's Bool of Lives.

Meek Waiton's heaveuly memory. Ibid.

But who would foree the Soul tilts with a straw
Against a Champion eased in adamant.

Part iii. vii. Persecution of the Scottish Covenanters.

Where musie dwells
Lingering, and wandering on as loth to die;
Like thoughts whose very sweetness yieldeth proof
That they were born for immortality.

Part iii. xliii. Inside of King's Chapel, Cambridge.

Myriads of daisies have shone forth in flower
Near the lark's nest, and in their natural hour
Have passed away; less happy than the one
That, by the unwilling ploughshare, died to prove
The tender charm of poetry and love.

Poems composed in Summer of 1833. xxxvii.

truth of his doctrine, with tho fruit and success thereof, they could not burn." Book of Martyrs, Vol. i. p. BO6, ed. 16-41. "Some prophet of that day said,

'The Avon to the Severn runs,

The Severn to the sea; And Wiekliffe's dust shall spread abroad, Wide as the waters be.' " From Address before the Sons of New Hampshire, by Daniel Webster, 1849. These lines are similarly quoted by the Rev. John Gumming in the Voices of the Dead.

1 The pen wherewith thou dost so heavenly sing
Made of a quill from an angel's wing.

Henry Constable, Soanet.
Whose noble praise
Deserves a qulll pluekt from an angel's wing.

Dorothy Berry, Soane*.

Nor less I deem that there are Powers

Which of themselves our minds impress;

That we can feed this mind of ours

In a wise passiveness. Expostulation and Reply.

Up! up! my Friend, and quit your books,

Or surely you 'll grow double :

Up! up! my Friend, and clear your looks;

Why all this toil and trouble ? The Tables Turned.

Come forth into the light of things,

Let Nature be your teacher. lhid.

One impulse from a vernal wood

May teach you more of man,

Of moral evil and of good,

Than all the sages can. lhid.

In that sweet mood when pleasant thoughts

Bring sad thoughts to the mind.

Lines written in Early Spring.

And 't is my faith, that every flower

Enjoys the air it breathes. Ibid.

O Reader! had you in your mind
Such stores as silent thought can bring,

O gentle Reader! you would find

A tale in everything. Simon Lee.

I 've heard of hearts unkind, kind deeds With coldness still returning;

Alas! the gratitude of men

Hath oftener left me mourning. Mid.

One that would peep and hotanize

Upon his mother's grave. A Poet's Epitaph. Stanza 5.

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