There, by the Sheepfold, sometimes was he seen Sitting alone, or with his faithful dog,

Then old, beside him, lying at his feet.

The length of full seven years, from time to time,
He at the building of the Sheepfold wrought,
And left the work unfinished when he died.
Three years, or little more, did Isabel

Survive her husband: at her death the estate
Was sold, and went into a stranger's hand.

The Cottage which was named the EVENING STAR
Is gone, the ploughshare has been through the

ground

On which it stood; great changes have been wrought
In all the neighborhood:- yet the oak is left

That
grew beside their door; and the remains
Of the unfinished Sheepfold may be seen

Beside the boisterous brook of Green-head Ghyll

1800.

XXXIII.

THE WIDOW ON WINDERMERE SIDE.

I.

How beautiful when up a lofty height

Honor ascends among the humblest poor,

And feeling sinks as deep! See there the door Of one, a Widow, left beneath a weight

Of blameless debt. On evil Fortune's spite

She wasted no complaint, but strove to make
A just repayment, both for conscience' sake
And that herself and hers should stand upright
In the world's eye. Her work when daylight failed
Paused not, and through the depth of night she kept
Such earnest vigils, that belief prevailed
With some, the noble creature never slept;
But, one by one, the hand of death assailed
Her children from her inmost heart bewept.

II.

The Mother mourned, nor ceased her tears to flow
Till a winter's noonday placed her buried Son
Before her eyes, last child of many gone,
His raiment of angelic white, and lo!
His very feet bright as the dazzling snow
Which they are touching; yea, far brighter, even
As that which comes, or seems to come, from heaven,
Surpasses aught these elements can show.
Much she rejoiced, trusting that from that hour,
Whate'er befell, she could not grieve or pine;
But the Transfigured, in and out of season,
Appeared, and spiritual presence gained a power
Over material forms that mastered reason.
O gracious Heaven, in pity make her thine!

III.

But why that prayer? as if to her could come
No good but by the way that leads to bliss
Thro' Death, so judging we should judge amiss.

Since reason failed, want is her threatened doom, Yet frequent transports mitigate the gloom:

Nor of those maniacs is she one that kiss

The air or laugh upon a precipice;

No, passing through strange sufferings toward the tomb,

She smiles as if a martyr's crown were won: Oft, when light breaks through clouds or waving trees,

With outspread arms, and fallen upon her knees,
The Mother hails in her descending Son

An Angel, and in earthly ecstasies
Her own angelic glory seems begun.

XXXIV

THE ARMENIAN LADY'S LOVE

[The subject of the following poem is from the Orlandus of the author's friend, Kenelm Henry Digby: and the liberty is taken of inscribing it to him as an acknowledgment, how ever unworthy, of pleasure and instruction derived from his numerous and valuable writings, illustrative of the piety and chivalry of the olden time.]

I.

You have heard " a Spanish Lady
How she wooed an Englishman": *

*See, in Percy's Reliques, that fine old ballad, "The Spanish Lady's Love"; from which poem the form of stanza, ag suitable to dialogue, is adopted.

:

Hear now of a fair Armenian,

Daughter of the proud Soldàn;

How she loved a Christian Slave, and told her pain By word, look, deed, with hope that he might love again.

II.

"Pluck that rose, it moves my liking,"

Said she, lifting up her veil;
"Pluck it for me, gentle gardener,
Ere it wither and grow pale."

"Princess fair, I till the ground, but may not take
From twig or bed an humble flower, even for
your sake!

III.

"Grieved am I, submissive Christian!

To behold thy captive state;
Women in your land may pity

(May they not?) the unfortunate."

"Yes, kind Lady! otherwise man could not bear Life, which to every one that breathes is full of care.”

IV.

"Worse than idle is compassion

If it end in tears and sighs;
Thee from bondage would I rescue,

And from vile indignities;

Nurtured, as thy mien bespeaks, in high degrèe,
Look
up, and help a hand that longs to set thee
free."

V.

"Lady! dread the wish, nor venture
In such peril to engage;

Think how it would stir against you

Your most loving father's rage:

Sad deliverance would it be, and yoked with shame, Should troubles overflow on her from whom it came."

VI.

"Generous Frank! the just in effort
Are of inward peace secure:
Hardships for the brave encountered,
Even the feeblest may endure:

If almighty grace through me thy chains unbind My father for slave's work may seek a slave in mind."

66

VII.

Princess, at this burst of goodness, My long-frozen heart grows warm "Yet you make all courage fruitless,

Me to save from chance of harm: Leading such companion, I that gilded dome, Yon minarets, would gladly leave for his worst home."

VIII.

"Feeling tunes your voice, fair Princess!
And your brow is free from scorn,