THE MINSTREL'S FAREWELL TO HIS

HARP.

HARP of the North, farewell! The hills grow dark,

On purple peaks a deeper shade descending; In twilight copse the glow-worm lights her spark,

The deer, half seen, are to the covert wending.

Resume thy wizard elm ! the fountain lending, And the wild breeze, thy wilder minstrelsy;

Thy numbers sweet with Nature's vespers blending, With distant echo from the fold and lea, And herd-boy's evening pipe, and hum of housing bee. Yet, once again, farewell, thou Minstrel Harp!

Yet, once again, forgive my feeble sway, , And little reck I of the censure sharp

May idly cavil at an idle lay.

Much have I owed thy strains on life's long way, Through secret woes the world has never known,

When on the weary night dawned wearier day, And bitterer was the grief devoured alone. That I o’erlive such woes, Enchantress! is thine own.

Hark! as my lingering footsteps slow retire,

Some Spirit of the Air has waked thy string ! 'Tis now a Seraph bold, with touch of fire,

'Tis now the brush of Fairy's frolic wing.

Receding now, the dying numbers ring Fainter and fainter down the rugged dell,

And now the mountain breezes scarcely bring A wandering witch-note of the distant spellAnd now 'tis silent all—Enchantress! fare-thee-well

SCOTT.

MOONLIGHT.

How calmly gliding through the dark-blue sky
The midnight moon ascends! Her placid beams
Through thinly scattered leaves and boughs grotesque,
Mottle with mazy shades the orchard slope;
Here, o'er the chesnut's fretted foliage grey
And massy, motionless they spread; here shine
Upon the crags, deepening with blacker night
Their chasms; and there the glittering argentry
Ripples and glances on the confluent streams.
A lovelier, purer light than that of day
Rests on the hills; and oh how awfully
Into that deep and tranquil firmament
The summits of Auseva rise serene !
The watchman on the battlements partakes
The stillness of the solemn hour; he feels
The silence of the earth, the endless sound
Of flowing water soothes him, and the stars,
Which in that brightest moonlight well-nigh quenched
Scarce visible, as in the utmost depth
Of yonder sapphire infinite, are seen,
Draw on with elevating influence
Toward eternity the attempered mind.
Musing on worlds beyond the grave he stands,
And to the Virgin Mother silently
Prefers her hymn of praise.

SOUTHEY.

THALABA.

Then did the damsel say to Thalaba,

The morn is young, the sun is fair, And pleasantly through pleasant banks

Yon quiet stream flows on.”

He sate him on the single seat,

The little boat moved on.
Through pleasant banks the quiet stream

Went winding pleasantly;
By fragrant fir-groves now it passed,

And now through alder-shores,
Through green and fertile meadows now

It silently ran by.
The flag-flower blossomed on its side,

The willow-tresses waved,
The flowing current furrowed round

The water-lily's floating leaf,
The fly of green and gauzy wing
Fell sporting down its course;

And grateful to the voyager
The freshness that it breathed,

And soothing to his ear
Its murmur round the prow.
The little boat falls rapidly
Adown the rapid stream.

But many a silent spring meantime,

And many a rivulet and rill,

Had swoln the growing stream;
And when the southern sun began
To wind the downward way of heaven,

It ran a river deep and wide,
Through banks that widened still.
Then once again the damsel spake:
“ The stream is strong, the river broad,

Wilt thou go on with me?
The day is fair, but night must come-

Wilt thou go on with me?
Far, far away, the sufferer's eye
For thee hath long been looking-

Thou wilt go on with me?”
“ Sail on, sail on,” quoth Thalaba,

“Sail on, in Allah's name !"
The little boat falls rapidly

Adown the river-stream.
A broader and yet broader stream,

That rocked the little boat!
The cormorant stands upon its shoals,
His black and dripping wings

Half opened to the wind.
The sun goes down, the crescent moon
Is brightening in the firmament;

And what is yonder roar,
That sinking now, and swelling now,

But evermore increasing,
Still louder, louder, grows ?
The little boat falls rapidly

Adown the rapid tide;

The moon is bright above, And the great ocean opens on

their

way.
Then did the damsel speak again,

“ Wilt thou go on with me?
The moon is bright, the sea is calm,

I know the ocean paths;

Wilt thou go on with me?
Deliverer! yes ! thou dost not fear !

Thou wilt go on with me!”
“Sail on, sail on!” quoth Thalaba,

“ Sail on, in Allah's name !"

The moon is bright, the sea is calm,
The little boat rides rapidly

Across the ocean waves;
The line of moonlight on the deep
Still follows as they voyage on;

The winds are motionless;
The gentle waters gently part

In dimples round the prow.
He looks above, he looks around,
The boundless heaven, the boundless sea, --
The crescent moon, the little boat,
Nought else above, below.
The moon is sunk; a dusky grey

Spreads o’er the eastern sky;
The stars grow pale and paler;
Oh beautiful! the godlike sun

Is rising o'er the sea !
Without an oar, without a sail,
The little boat rides rapidly ;-
Is that a cloud that skirts the sea ?

There is no cloud in heaven!
And nearer now, and darker now-

It is—it is—the Land !
For yonder are the rocks that rise

Dark in the reddening morn;
For loud around their hollow base
The surges rage and foam.

SOUTHEY.

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