se the morn--the summer air how bland! 503
The blue wave scarcely seems to touch the land.
Again 'tis William's wedding-day! advance--
For lo! the church and blue slate of Penzance!
Their faith and troth is pledged, the rites are o'er,
The nuptial band winds slow along the shore,
The smiling boy beside. As thus they passed,
With sudden blackness rushed the impetuous blast;[71] 510
Deep thunder rolled in long portentous sound,
At distance: nearer now, it shakes the ground.
Pale, William sinks, with speechless dread oppressed,
As the forked flash seems darted at his breast.
His beating heart is heard,--blanched is his cheek,--
A well-known voice seemed in the storm to speak;
Aghast he cried again, with frantic look,
Oh! shut the book, dear Mary, shut the book!
By late remorse he died; for, from that day,
The judgment on his head, he pined away, 520
And soon an outcast suicide he lay.
By the church-porch rests Mary of Guynear;--
When the first cuckoo startles the cold year,
And blue mint[72] on her grave more beauteous grows,
One small bird[73] seems to sing for her repose.
Near the Land's-end, so black and weather-beat,
He lies, and the dark sea is at his feet.
Thou, who hast heard the tale of the sad maid,
Know, conscious guilt is the accusing shade:
If thou hast loved some gentle maid and true, 530
Whose first affections never swerved from you;
Leave her not--oh! for pity and for truth, 532
Leave her not, tearful in her days of youth!
Too late, the pang of vain remorse shall start,
And Conscience thus avenge--a broken heart!

PART FOURTH.

WALK ABROAD--VIEWS AROUND, FROM THE SEVERN TO BRISTOL--WRINGTON--"AULD
ROBIN GRAY."

The shower is past--the heath-bell, at our feet,
Looks up, as with a smile, though the cold dew
Hangs yet within its cup, like Pity's tear
Upon the eyelids of a village child!
Mark! where a light upon those far-off waves
Gleams, while the passing shower above our head
Sheds its last silent drops, amid the hues
Of the fast-fading rainbow,--such is life!
Let us go forth, the redbreast is abroad,
And, dripping in the sunshine, sings again. 10
No object on the wider sea-line meets
The straining vision, but one distant ship,
Hangin