In nature's ever varying face

Some moral lesson I can trace;

And see, by contemplation's aid,

Some useful truth to man convey'd.

E'en now, my daily labour done,
When faintly gleams the setting sun,
I wander forth: while, all around,

The ear can catch no livelier sound
Than gusts of wind, which, hurrying by
Through yon bare branches seem to sigh ;

Unless on evening's gale should float,

In fitful swell the casual note

Of martial music; faintly caught,

With pleasing melancholy fraught:

And though the lengthen'd day would fain

Assert fair Spring's returning reign,

The leafless boughs, the sighing gale,
The gathering clouds, the misty veil,

Which shrouds the sun's declining ray,

Confess stern Winter's further sway.

Yet still to me this dreary hour,

This shadowy landscape, has the power
To soothe my pensive troubl'd heart
And sober tranquil bliss impart.

I love to see bleak Winter yield
Reluctantly to Spring the field;

I love to mark the watery gleam

Of Sol's bright rays on Deben's stream;

To see it gild the sapless tree,

And gem with mimic pageantry

The dewy thorn, whose straggling bough

Can boast no other beauty now.

Perchance in some sequester'd lane,

Screen'd from the blast that sweeps the plain,

Smiling amidst its chrystal tears

Some little flower its head uprears;

Spring's earliest trophy, fairest gem
To deck her graceful diadem.

Maria! canst thou tell me why

Objects like these delight the eye,

And touch the heart? to me it seems

They point to loftier, nobler themes.

To me this elemental strife

An emblem shews of human life;

And when dark winter's clouds recede,

And Spring with verdure clothes the mead,

Even before her power is seen,

In the parterre, or on the green,

Thus, I exclaim, shall sorrow's night

Give way to joy's returning light?

As shine the dew-drops bright and clear, So shall the half unconscious tear,

Brighter than smiles of pleasure seem

Glittering in rapture's rising beam.

That beauteous flowret too shall be

To fancy's eye, a type of thee;

Like thee it shuns the gazing eye,

Lovely in native modesty ;

Like thine its opening charms display

The promise of a brighter day;

And though the chilly dews may gem

TO PATRIOTISM,

AN ODE.

“England, with all thy faults, I love thee still—
To shake thy senate, and from heights sublime
Of patriot eloquence to flash down fire
Upon thy foes, was never meant my task:
But I can feel thy fortunes, and partake
Thy joys and sorrows, with as true a heart
As any thunderer there."

COWPER.

GENIUS of Britain! aid my song,

To thee the will and power belong

To prompt the Patriot's lay.
My country's love inspires my verse,
Oh! bid thy radiant beams disperse

The darkness of the day.