among the rocks; but there will be
No laughing cry, to hail thy victory,
Such as was wont to greet thee, when I fled,
With hurried footsteps, and averted head,
Like fallen monarch, from my venturous stand,
Chased by thy billows far along the sand.
And when at eventide thy warm waves drink
The amber clouds that in their bosom sink;
When sober twilight over thee has spread
Her purple pall, when the glad day is dead
My voice no more will mingle with the dirge
That rose in mighty moaning from thy surge,
Filling with awful harmony the air,
When thy vast soul and mine were joined in prayer.

SONNET.

Away, away! bear me away, away,
Into the boundless void, thou mighty wind!
That rushest on thy midnight way,
And leav'st this weary world, far, far behind!
Away, away! bear me away, away,
To the wide strandless deep,
Ye headlong waters! whose mad eddies leap
From the pollution of your bed of clay!
Away, away, bear me away, away,
Into the fountains of eternal light,
Ye rosy clouds! that to my longing sight
Seem melting in the sun's devouring ray!
Away, away! oh, for some mighty blast,
To sweep this loathsome life into the past!

FRAGMENT.

It was the harvest time: the broad, bright moon
Was at her full, and shone upon the fields
Where we had toiled the livelong day, to pile
In golden sheaves the earth's abundant treasure.
The harvest task had given place to song
And merry dance; and these in turn were chased
By legends strange, and wild, unearthly tales
Of elves, and gnomes, and fairy sprites, that haunt
The woods and caves; where they do sleep all day,
And then come forth i' the witching hour of night,
To dance by moonlight on the green thick sward.
The speaker was an aged villager,
In whom his oft-told tale awoke no fears,
Such as he filled his gaping listeners with.
Nor ever was there break in his discourse,
Save when with gray eyes lifted to the moon,
He conjured from the past strange instances
Of kidnapp'd infants, from their cradles snatch'd,
And changed for elvish sprites; of blights, and blains,
Sent on the cattle by the vengeful fairies;
Of blasted crops, maim'd limbs, and unsound minds,
All plagues inflicted by these angered sprites.
Then would he pause, and wash his story down
With long-drawn draughts of amber ale; while all
The rest came crowding under the wide oak tree,
Piling the corn sheaves closer round the ring,
Whispering and shaking, laughing too, with fear;
And ever, if