I, for those who bide this pelting,

Breathe a prayer of charity,

And, my soul with pity melting, Heavenly Father, call on Thee.

SILBURY HILL*.

O THOU, to whom in the olden time was raised

Yon ample Mound, not fashion'd to display

An artful structure, but with better skill

Piled massive, to endure through many an age,

How simple, how majestic is thy tomb!

When temples and when palaces shall fall,

* Silbury Hill is a Barrow of the largest size. It stands close by the road from London to Bath: 80 miles west from Hyde-Park Corner.

And mighty cities moulder into dust,

When to their deep foundations Time shall shake

The strong-based pyramids, shall thine remain

Amid the general ruin unsubdued,

Uninjured as the everlasting hills,

And mock the feeble power of storms and Time.

ΤΟ

THE DAISY.

GENTLE flower, young April's pride,

Say not Nature hath denied

Thee her bounty or her grace,

Though thou lack the Rose's face.

Where she spreads her carpet green

There thy maiden form is seen,

Drest in robes of purest white,

Ever constant in her sight,

But at will to wanton wild,

Like a playful darling child.

Thee she tends in summer days,

And the nibbling ewes that graze

Spare to crop her favourite:

And the Fairies, when by night

Their green paths they quaintly tread,

Walk not o'er thy sleeping head.