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Retreating and meeting and beating and His sensual eye had gloated on her sheeting,
cheek Delaying and straying and playing and E'en till the flush of angry modesty spraying,
Gave it new charms, and made him gloat Advancing and prancing and glancing the more. and dancing,
She loathed the man, for Hamuel's eye Recoiling, turmoiling, and toiling and was bold, boiling,
And the strong workings of brute selfish. humping and plumping and bumping and jumping,
Had moulded his broad features ; and And dashing and flashing and splashing she feared and clashing,
The bitterness of wounded vanity never ending but always de. That with a fiendish hue would overcast scending,
His faint and lying smile. Nor vain her Sounds and motions for ever and ever fear, are blending;
For Hamuel vowed revenge, and laid a All at once, and all o'er, with a mighty plot uproar,
Against aer virgin fame. He spread And in this way the water comes down abroad at Lodore.
Whispers that travel fast, and ill reports
When in the temple heavenward it was THE MIRACLE OF THE ROSES.
Did swim with rapturous zeal, but there THERE dwelt in Bethlehem a Jewish were those maid,
Who had beheld the enthusiast's melting And Zillah was her name, so passing fair glance That all Judea spake the virgin's praise. With other feelings filled :—that 'twas a He who had seen her eyes' dark radiance, task How it revealed her soul, and what a Of easy sort to play the saint by day soul
Before the public eye, but that all eyes. Beamed in the mild effulgence, woe to Were closed at night;—that Zillah's life him !
Shame-shame to man, where,
That he should trust so easily the tongue And filled the heart, and fixed the absent which stabs another's fame! The ill eye.
report Alas for him ! her bosom owned no love Was heard, repeated, and believed, -and Save the strong ardour of religious zeal ; soon, For Zillah upon heaven had centred all For Hamuel by his well-schemed villany Her spirit's deep affections. So for he: Proluced such semblances of guilt,--the Her tribe's men sighed in vain, yet maid reverenced
Was to the fire condemned ! The obdurate virtue that destroy'd their hopes.
Without the walls
There was a barren field; a place One man there was, a vain and wretched abhorred, man,
For it was there where wretched criminals Who saw, desired, despaired, and hated Received their death! and there they
fixed the stake,
And piled the fuel round, which should Branches and buds, and spreading its
green leaves, The injured maid, abandoned, as it Embowers and canopies the innocent seemed,
maid By God and man. The assembled Who there stands glorified ; and roses, Bethlehemites
then Beheld the scene, and when they saw ttie First seen on earth since Paradise was maid
lost, Bound to the stake, with what calm Profusely blossom round her, white and holiness
red, She lifted up her patient looks to heaven, In all their rich variety of hues; They doubted of her guilt.-With other And fragrance such as our first parents thoughts
breathed Stood Hamuel near the pile ; him savage In Eden, she inhales, vouchsafed to her joy
A presage sure of Paradise regained. Led thitherward, but now within his
heart Unwonted feelings stirred, and the first
HISTORY. pangs Of wakening guilt, anticipant of hell ! THOU chronicle of crimes ! I read no The eye of Zillah as it glanced around
moreFell on the slanderer once, and rested For I am one who willingly would love there
His fellow kind. O gentle poesy, A moment : like a dagger did it pierce, Receive me from the court's polluted And struck into his soul a cureless scenes, wound.
From dungeon horrors, from the fields of Conscience ! thou God within us! not in war, the hour
Receive me to your haunts,—that I may Of triumph dost thou spare the guilty wretch,
My nature's better feelings, for my
soul Not in the hour of infamy and death Sickens at man's misdeeds! Forsake the virtuous !—They draw near
I spake—when lo! the stake
She stood before me in her majesty, They bring the torch !-hold, hold your Clio, the strong-eyed muse.
Upon her erring hands!
brow Yet quench the rising flames !—they rise, Sate a calm anger. Go-young man, she they spread!
cried, They reach the suffering maid ! O God, Sigh among myrtle bowers, and let thy protect
soul The innocent one!
Effuse itself in strains so sorrowful sweet, They rose, they spread, they That love-sick maids may weep upon thy raged ;
page The breath of God went forth; the as. In most delicious sorrow. Oh shame!
shame! Beneath its influence bent, and all its Was it for this I wakened thy young flames,
mind ? In one long lightning-flash concentrating, Was it for this I made thy swelling heart Darted and blasted Hamuel-him alone! Throb at the deeds of Greece, and thy
boy's eye Hark !—what a fearful scream the multi. So kindle when that glorious Spartan tude
died ? Pour forth !—and yet more miracles ! tne Boy ! boy ! deceive me not ! what if the stake
Of murdered millions strike a chilling No, William, no, I would not live again pang,
The morning hours of life ;
I would not be again
The wisdom by experience hardly taught With nobler feelings ? with a deeper love
To me the past presents For freedom? Yes—most righteously thy
No object for regret ; soul
To me the present gives Loathes the black history of human All cause for full content :crimes
The future, -it is now the cheerful noon, And human misery! let that spirit fill And on the sunny-smiling fields I gaze Thy song, and it shall teach thee, boy ! With eyes alive to joy ; to raise
When the dark night descends, Strains such as Cato might have deigned My weary lids I willingly shall close, to hear,
Again to wake in light. As Sidney in his hall of bliss may love.
TO A BEE.
THou wert out betimes, thou busy busy TO WILLIAM WORDSWORTH,
As abroad I took my early way, INQUIRING IF I WOULD LIVE OVER
Before the cow from her resting place MY YOUTH AGAIN.
Had risen up and left her trace Do I regret the past?
On the meadow, with dew so gray, Would I again live o'er
I saw thee, thou busy busy bee.
Thou wert working late, thou busy busy
bee ! In the warm joyaunce of the summer sun I do not wish again
After the fall of the cistus flower, The changeful April day.
When the primrose-tree blossom was Nay, William, nay, not so !
ready to burst, Safe havened from the sea
I heard thee last, as I saw thce first; I would not tempt again
In the silence of the evening hour, The uncertain ocean's wrath.
I heard thee, thou busy busy bee. Praise be to him who made me what I am, Thou art a miser, thou busy busy bee ! Other I would not be.
Late and early at employ ; Why is it pleasant then to sit and talk
Still on thy golden stores intent, Of days that are no more?
Thy summer in heaping and hoarding When in his own dear home
is spent, The traveller rests at last,
What thy winter will never enjoy ; And tells how often in his wanderings Wise lesson this for me, thou busy busy The thought of those far off
bee ! Has made his eyes o'erflow With no unmanly tears ;
Little dost thou think, thou busy busy Delighted, he recalls
bee ! Through what fair scenes his charmed What is the end of thy toil. feet have trod.
When the latest flowers of the ivy are But ever when he tells of perils past,
gone And troubles now no more,
And all thy work for the year is done, His eyes most sparkle, and a readier joy Thy master comes for the spoil. Flows rapid to his heart.
Woe then for thee, thou busy busy bee !