WHERE the Thracian channel roars On lordly Europe's eastern shores, Where the proudly jutting land Frowns on Asia's western strand, High on seven hills is seen to shine The second Rome of Constantine. Beneath her feet with graceful pride Propontis spreads his ample tide, His fertile banks profusely pour Of luscious fruits a varied store, Rich with a thousand glittering dyes His flood a finny shoal supplies, While crowding sails on rapid wing The rifled south's bright treasures bring. With crescents gleaming to the skies Mosques and minarets arise, Mounted on whose topmost wall The turban'd priests to worship call; The mournful cypress rises round Tap'ring from the burial-ground; Olympus ever capped with snow Crowns the busy scene below.
THIS Scene how rich from Thames's side, While ev'ning suns their amber beam Spread o'er the glassy-surfac'd tide, Aud 'mid the masts and cordage gleam; Blaze on the roofs with turrets crown'd, And gild green pastures stretch'd around, And gild the slope of that high ground Whose corn-fields bright the prospect bound!
The white sails glide along the shore, Red streamers on the breezes play; The boatmen ply the dashing oar, And wide their various freight convey; Some Neptune's hardy thoughtless train, And some the careful sens of gain, And some the sportive nymph and swain List'ning to music's soothing strain.
But here, while these the sight allure, Still fancy wings her flight away To woods recluse and vales obscure,
And streams that solitary stray;
The Tempestuous Evening.
To view the pine-grove on the hill, The rocks that trickling springs distill, The meads that quiv'ring aspens fill, Or alders crowding o'er the hill.
THERE'S grandeur in this sounding storm, That drives the hurrying clouds along, That on each other seem to throng, And mix in many a varied form; While bursting now and then between, The moon's dim misty orb is seen, And casts faint glimpses on the green.
Beneath the blast the forests bend, And thick the branchy ruin lies, And wide the shower of foliage flies: The lake's black waves in tumult blend, Revolving o'er and o'er and o'er, And foaming on the rocky shore, Whose caverns echo to their roar,
The Pleasant Evening.
But can my soul the scene enjoy
That rends another's breast with pain? O, hapless he, who, near the main, Now sees its billowy rage destroy! Beholds the found'ring bark descend, Nor knows but what its fate may end The moments of his dearest friend!
DELIGHTFUL looks this clear calm sky, With Cynthia's orb on high! Delightful looks this smooth green ground, With shadows cast from cots around; Quick twinkling lustre decks the tide, And cheerful radiance gently falls
On that white town and castle walls, That crown the spacious river's further side.
And now along the echoing hills
The night-bird's strain melodious trills; And now the echoing dale along
Soft flows the shepherd's tuneful song;
Description of a Cottage.
And now, wide o'er the water borne,
The city's mingled murmur swells,
And lively change of distant bells,
And varied warbling of the deep-ton'd horn.
DESCRIPTION OF A COTTAGE.
WHERE o'er the brook's moist margin hazels meet,
Stands my lone home,-a pleasant, cool retreat. Gay loosestrife there and pale valerian spring, And tuneful reed-birds 'mid the sedges sing. Among green osiers winds my stream away, Where the blue halcyon skims from spray to
Where waves the bulrush as the waters glide, And yellow flag-flowers deck the sunny side. East from my cottage stretch delightful meads, Where rows of willows rise, and banks of reeds; There roll clear rivers; there, old elms between, The mill's white roof and circling wheels are
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