And sowing bitter seeds to choke the soil, Where erst the tendrils of Affection sprung, And Faith-aspiring heavenward-rooted stood ! Back!-back!-release the torrent thou controll'st- With some few flowers, scarcely worth a care, In Joy's bright hour, thy cynic smile may glance To weep-that one poor boon of gentle Grief!— But thou must come and scorch those tears to flame? Thou art the tempting fiend of fell Despair The ignis fatuus of Sorrow's night, Leading the wayworn soul, through cheerless tracks, Where rings thy madd'ning laughter through the air: Yet is thy dread existence oft a dream, A dream, to cheat the world, and hide the pangs Too thin, at times, to hide the bosom's throes ! I'll none of thee, thou king of sad pretence Thou mockery of Feeling's calm repose ! Hence, with thy flimsy vesture !-Demon, hence ! Grief's gushing founts thy hand can never close! SONG OF THE HUSBANDMAN. 1. O'ER Nature's lovely scenes I look, A humid gem to sprinkle o'er Each leaf and tiny flow'r, Till, spreading forth her wing to soar, She shines in all her pow'r; While "Speed the plough !" I blithely sing, With "Speed the plough!" the echoes ring: "God speed the plough !" is Nature's voiceIts triumphs make the earth rejoice. |