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In silence Matthew lay, and eyed
The spring beneath the tree;
And thus the dear old man replied,
The gray-haired man of glee:

“ Down to the vale this water steers, How merrily it goes ! 'Twill murmur on a thousand years, And flow as now it flows.

“ And here, on this delightful day,
I cannot choose but think
How oft, a vigorous man, I lay
Beside this Fountain's brink.

“My eyes are dim with childish tears,
My heart is idly stirred,
For the same sound is in my ears
Which in those days I heard.

“ Thus fares it still in our decay :
And yet the wiser mind
Mourns less for what

age
takes

away Than what it leaves behind.

“ The Blackbird in the summer trees,
The Lark upon the hill,
Let loose their carols when they please,
Are quiet when they will.

6 With Nature never do they wage
A foolish strife; they see
A happy youth, and their old age
Is beautiful and free:

“ But we are pressed by heavy laws;
And often, glad no more,
We wear a face of joy, because
We have been glad of yore.

“ If there is one who need bemoan
His kindred laid in earth,
The household hearts that were his own,
It is the man of mirth,

“ My days, my Friend, are almost gone, My life has been approved, And many

love me; but by none Am I enough beloved.”

“ Now both himself and me he wrongs,
The man who thus complains !
I live and sing my idle songs
Upon these happy plains,

“ And, Matthew, for thy Children dead I'll be a son to thee!” At this he grasped my hand, and said, “ Alas! that cannot be.”

We rose up

from the fountain-side; And down the smooth descent Of the green sheep-track did we glide; And through the wood we went;

And, ere we came to Leonard's Rock,
He sang those witty rhymes
About the crazy old church clock,
And the bewildered chimes.

XVII.

LINES

WRITTEN WHILE SAILING IN A BOAT AT EVENING.

How richly glows the water's breast
Before us, tinged with evening hues,
While, facing thus the crimson west,
The Boat her silent course pursues !
And see how dark the backward stream!
A little moment past so smiling!
And still, perhaps, with faithless gleam,
Some other Loiterers beguiling.

Such views the youthful Bard allure;
But, heedless of the following gloom,
He deems their colours shall endure
Till peace go with him to the tomb.

- And let him nurse his fond deceit,
And what if he must die in sorrow !
Who would not cherish dreams so sweet,
Though grief and pain may come to-morrow?

XVIII.

REMEMBRANCE OF COLLINS,

COMPOSED UPON THE THAMES NEAR RICHMOND.

GLIDE gently, thus for ever glide,
O Thames ! that other Bards may see
As lovely visions by thy side
As now, fair River ! come to me.
O glide, fair Stream ! for ever so,
Thy quiet soul on all bestowing,
Till all our minds for ever flow,
As thy deep waters now are flowing.

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