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Thanks given to God for daily bread, and here,
They are in truth the Substance, we the Shadows."
So spake the mild Jeronymite, his griefs
Ere he had ceased to gaze, perhaps to speak:
-But why this stealing tear? Companion mute, On thee I look, not sorrowing; fare thee well, My Song's Inspirer, once again farewell! *
* The pile of buildings, composing the palace and convent of San Lorenzo, has, in common usage, lost its proper name in that of the Escurial, a village at the foot of the hill upon which the splendid edifice, built by Philip the Second, stands. It need scarcely be added that Wilkie is the painter alluded to.
THE FOREGOING SUBJECT RESUMED.
AMONG a grave fraternity of Monks,
For One, but surely not for One alone,
Though but a simple object, into light
Called forth by those affections that endear
POEMS OF SENTIMENT AND REFLECTION. 319
Or sacred wonder, growing with the power
In faithful scales, things and their opposites,
A household small and sensitive, whose love, Dependent as in part its blessings are
Upon frail ties dissolving or dissolved
On earth, will be revived, we trust, in heaven.*
So fair, so sweet, withal so sensitive,
Would that the little Flowers were born to live, Conscious of half the pleasure which they give;
That to this mountain-daisy's self were known
*In the class entitled "Musings," in Mr. Southey's Minor Poems, is one upon his own miniature picture, taken in childhood, and another upon a landscape painted by Gaspar Poussin. It is possible that every word of the above verses, though similar in subject, might have been written had the author been unacquainted with those beautiful effusions of poetic sentiment. But, for his own satisfaction, he must be allowed thus publicly to acknowledge the pleasure those two Poems of his Friend have given him, and the grateful influence they have upon his mind as often as he reads them, or thinks of them.
And what if hence a bold desire should mount
So might he ken how by his sovereign aid
And were the Sister-power that shines by night So privileged, what a countenance of delight Would through the clouds break forth on human sight!
Fond fancies! wheresoe'er shall turn thine eye,
All vain desires, all lawless wishes quelled,
UPON SEEING A COLORED DRAWING OF THE BIRD OF PARADISE IN AN ALBUM.
WHо rashly strove thy Image to portray?
How could he think of the live creature,
With a divinity of colors, drest
In all her brightness, from the dancing crest
The motions that it graces,
To drop his pencil! Flowers of every clime
Or in the diver's grasp fetched up from caves
Plumes that might catch, but cannot keep, a stain ;
Resplendent Wanderer! followed with glad eyes Where'er her course; mysterious Bird! To whom, by wondering Fancy stirred, Eastern Islanders have given
A holy name, the Bird of Heaven!
And even a title higher still,
The Bird of God! whose blessed will
She seems performing as she flies