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Apt emblem (for reproof of pride)
This delicate Enclosure shows

Of modest kindness, that would hide
The firm protection she bestows;
Of manners, like its viewless fence,
Ensuring peace to innocence.

Thus spake the moral Muse-her wing
Abruptly spreading to depart,
She left that farewell offering,
Memento for some docile heart;
That may respect the good old age
When Fancy was Truth's willing Page;
And Truth would skim the flowery glade,
Though entering but as Fancy's Shade.

III.

A WHIRL-BLAST from behind the hill
Rushed o'er the wood with startling sound;
Then-all at once the air was still,

And showers of hailstones pattered round.
Where leafless oaks towered high above,
I sat within an undergrove

Of tallest hollies, tall and green ;
A fairer bower was never seen.
From year to year the spacious floor
With withered leaves is covered o'er,
And all the year the bower is green.
But see! where'er the hailstones drop
The withered leaves all skip and hop;
There's not a breeze-no breath of air-
Yet here, and there, and every where
Along the floor, beneath the shade
By those embowering hollies made,
The leaves in myriads jump and spring,
As if with pipes and music rare
Some Robin Good-fellow were there,
And all those leaves, in festive glee,
Were dancing to the minstrelsy.

1799.

1

IV.

THE WATERFALL AND THE EGLANTINE.

1.

"BEGONE, thou fond presumptuous Elf,"

Exclaimed an angry Voice,

"Nor dare to thrust thy foolish self
Between me and my choice!"

A small Cascade fresh swoln with snows
Thus threatened a poor Briar-rose,
That, all bespattered with his foam,
And dancing high and dancing low,
Was living, as a child might know,
In an unhappy home.

II.

"Dost thou presume my course to block? Off, off! or, puny Thing!

I'll hurl thee headlong with the rock

To which thy fibres cling."

The Flood was tyrannous and strong;

The patient Briar suffered long,
Nor did he utter groan or sigh,
Hoping the danger would be past;
But, seeing no relief, at last,
He ventured to reply.

111.

"Ah!" said the Briar, "blame me not;

Why should we dwell in strife?

We who in this sequestered spot

Once lived a happy life!

You stirred me on my rocky bed—

What pleasure through my veins you spread!

The summer long, from day to day,

My leaves you freshened and bedewed;
Nor was it common gratitude

That did your cares repay.

1241

THE WATERFALL AND THE EGLANTINE.

IV.

When spring came on with bud and bell,
Among these rocks did I

Before you hang my wreaths to tell
That gentle days were nigh!
And in the sultry summer hours,

I sheltered you with leaves and flowers;
And in my leaves-now shed and gone,
The linnet lodged, and for us two

Chanted his pretty songs, when

you

Had little voice or none.

V.

But now proud thoughts are in your

What grief is mine you see,

breast

Ah! would you think, even yet how blest

Together we might be!

Though of both leaf and flower bereft,

Some ornaments to me are left

Rich store of scarlet hips is mine,
With which I, in my humble way,
Would deck you many a winter day,
A happy Eglantine!"

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