The Mauritanian and Cathaian kings Already tremble, and the unbaptized Turk The elder year, Pomona, pleased, shall deck Shall please all tastes, and triumph o'er the vine. Tusser's "November's Husbandry." Ar Hallontide,1 slaughter-time entereth in, Their offall for household the better will come. Thy dredge 2 and thy barley go thresh out to malt, To rear up much poultry, and want the barn door, As cat a good mouser is needful in house, For Easter, at Martilmas, hang up a beef,1 come. When rain is a let to thy doings abroad, earn, And, looking to thrive, have an eye to thy barn. neat, To thresher for hurting of cow with his flail, Or stack it for litter, if room be too poor, 1 Hung or smoke-dried beef was formerly much more in use in England than at present. - Mavor. 2 St. Edmund's day is the 20th November. Ballad for November. CRABBE'S "GYPSY." VAGRANT. My crime this sick'ning child to feed, I knew your laws forbade the deed, Nay! frown not-stay his eager hand, With anxious fondness to my breast, More dear than life, when life was blest. I saw her pining, fainting, cold, I begged-but vain was my request. Smiled on my guilt, and hushed my grief. But I have griefs of other kind, Troubles and sorrows more severe; Give me to ease my tortured mind, And let me, if I may not find A friend to help, find one to hear. Yet nameless let me plead my name Would only wake the cry of scorn; A child of sin, conceived in shame, Brought forth in woe, to misery born. My mother dead, my father lost, I wandered with a vagrant crew; A common care, a common cost, Their sorrows and their sins I knew ; With them, on want and error forced, Like them, I base and guilty grew. Few are my years, not so my crimes; The age, which these sad looks declare, Is sorrow's work, it is not time's, And I am old in shame and care. Taught to believe the world a place Where every stranger was a foe, Trained in the arts that mark our race, To what new people could I go? Could I a better life embrace, Or live as virtue dictates? No! When first I loved the Gypsy-boy. A sturdy youth he was and tall, His looks would all his soul declare, His piercing eyes were deep and small, And strongly curled his raven hair. Yes, Aaron had each manly charm, All in the May of youthful pride; He scarcely feared his father's arm, And every other arm defied. Oft when they grew in anger warm (Whom will not love and power divide?) I rose, their wrathful souls to calm, And dark and dreadful was his look; His favor was my bliss and pride; It lent them all which she denied. Or grateful looks on him bestow; When Aaron sank beneath his blow? Whatever his command might be. Accursed was the force he used, So let him of his God implore For mercy, and be so refused! You frown again, - -to show my wrong, Can I in gentle language speak? My woes are deep, my words are strong,And hear me, or my heart will break. MAGISTRATE. I hear thy words, I feel thy pain; The story of thy life disclose. Thou 'st travelled far and wandered long, Thy God hath seen thee all the way, And all the turns that led thee wrong. Come, now again thy woes impart, Tell all thy sorrows, all thy sin; We cannot heal the throbbing heart, Till we discern the wounds within. Compunction weeps our guilt away, The sinner's safety is his pain; Our pangs for our offences pay, And our severest griefs are gain. And feared the tale which he could tell. But I had mightier cause for fear, For slow and mournful round my bed I saw a dreadful form appear, It came when I and Aaron wed. (Yes! we were wed; I know my crime, - And Aaron frowned my tears to see. And joy in mirth and music sought, With such surprise and horror fraught, That reason felt a moment's flight, And left a mind, to madness wrought.) A chilling terror stopped my breath. But vainly strove a word to say; So, pointing to his bleeding wounds, The threat'ning spectre stalked away. I brought a lovely daughter forth, His father's child in Aaron's bed; He took her from me in his wrath. 'Where is my child?'-Thy child is dead.' 'T was false-we wandered far and wide, Through town and country, field and fen, Till Aaron, fighting, fell and died, And I became a wife again. I then was young :- my husband sold The slave, but not the friend, of vice Behold me, Heaven! my pains behold, And let them for my sins suffice! Despised me when my youth was fled; Yet well I knew my deeds were ill; My smile was sought, or asked my hand; To win my bread by fraudful arts, And long a poor subsistence found, By spreading nets for simple hearts. Though poor, and abject, and despised, Their fortunes to the crowd I told; gave the young the love they prized, I And promised wealth to bless the old; Schemes for the doubtful I devised, And charms for the forsaken sold. At length, for arts like these confined In prison with a lawless crew, I soon perceived a kindred mind, And there my long-lost daughter knew, His father's child, whom Aaron gave To wander with a distant clan, The miseries of the world to brave, And be the slave of vice and man. A world of trouble and disdain : Or stretch her feeble hands in vain, Outcasts, despised in every place; Yet as the dark and muddy tide, Flows in a clear and happy course; Our shame, in thee our sorrows cease! And thy pure course will then extend, In floods of joy, o'er vales of peace. O by the God who loves to spare, Deny me not the boon I crave: Let this loved child your mercy share, And let me find a peaceful grave; Make her yet spotless soul your care, And let my sins their portion have; Her for a better fate prepare, And punish whom 't were sin to save! MAGISTRATE. Recall the word, renounce the thought, Command thy heart and bend thy knee; There is to all a pardon brought, A ransom rich, assured, and free ; "T is full when found, 't is found if sought; O! seek it, till 't is sealed to thee. VAGRANT. But how my pardon shall I know? MAGISTRATE. By feeling dread that 't is not sent, By thoughts on that great debt we owe, With all the mercy God has lent ; By suffering what thou canst not show, Yet showing how thine heart is rent, Till thou canst feel thy bosom glow, And say, 'My Saviour, I repent!' Psalm of Praise for November. LONGFELLOW'S "THANKSGIVING." WHEN first, in ancient time, from Jubal's tongue The tuneful anthem filled the morning air, To sacred hymnings and elysian song His music-breathing shell the minstrel woke. Devotion breathed aloud from every chord :The voice of praise was heard in every tone, And prayer, and thanks to Him, the Eternal One, To Him, that with bright inspiration touched The high and gifted lyre of heavenly song, And warmed the soul with new vitality. A stirring energy through nature breathed: The voice of adoration from her broke, Swelling aloud in every breeze, and heard Long in the sullen waterfall, what time. Soft Spring or hoary Autumn threw on earth Its bloom or blighting, — when the Summer smiled, And to the wandering wind the green sedge bent, Sang a sweet song of fixed tranquillity. Men felt the heavenly influence- and it stole That, wrapt in darkness, moved upon its face. WINTER-DECEMBER. THOMSON'S "WINTER." The subject proposed ARGUMENT. Address to the Earl of Wilmington. First approach of Winter. According to the natural course of the season, various storms described. Rain. Wind. Snow. The driving of the snows; a man perishing among them; whence reflections on the wants and miseries of human life. The wolves descending from the Alps and Apennines. A winter evening described; as spent by philosophers; by the country people; in the city. Frost. A view of Winter within the polar circle. A thaw. The whole concluding with moral reflections on a future state. WINTER; ITS HORRORS.- SNOW. [theme, SEE, Winter comes, to rule the varied year, Sullen and sad, with all his rising train, Vapors, and clouds, and storms. Be these my These! that exalt the soul to solemn thought, And heavenly musing. Welcome, kindred glooms! Congenial horrors, hail! with frequent foot, Pleased have I, in my cheerful morn of life, When nursed by careless Solitude I lived, And sung of Nature with unceasing joy, Pleased have I wandered through your rough doTrod the pure virgin-snows, myself as pure; Heard the winds roar, and the big torrent burst; [main; Or seen the deep-fermenting tempest brewed COMPLIMENTS TO THE EARL OF WILMINGTON. To thee, the patron of her first essay, The Muse, O Wilmington! renews her song. Since has she rounded the revolving year : Skimmed the gay Spring; on eagle pinions borne, Attempted through the Summer blaze to rise; Then swept o'er Autumn with the shadowy gale; And now among the Wintry clouds again, Rolled in the doubling storm, she tries to soar ; To swell her note with all the rushing winds; To suit her sounding cadence to the floods; As is her theme, her numbers wildly great : Thrice happy could she fill thy judging ear With bold description, and with manly thought. Nor art thou skilled in awful schemes alone, And how to make a mighty people thrive ; But equal goodness, sound integrity, A firm, unshaken, uncorrupted soul Amid a sliding age, and burning strong, Not vainly blazing, for thy country's weal, |