434 
THE STAKE. 
Of one who oft hath listened at thy feet 
In the deep woodlands, or the green recess 
Of far-off meadows, whose still quietness 
Was broken only by the bee’s low humming 
Among the hay, or the faint chimes far-coming 
From the unseen hamlet ; to whom thou hast made 
The names revered of priest and bard more dear 
By dim remembrance of those moments sweet, 
Fleeting in idlesse under verdurous shade. 
PART I. 
“ For who, to dull forgetfulness a prey 
This pleasing anxious being e’er resign’d, 
Left the warm precincts of the cheerful day, 
Nor cast one longing, lingering look behind ?” 
Elegy in a Country Churchyard. 
O! Trurg, thou art a fearful thing, 
A seraph with such dazzling wing 
That whoso looketh on thy rays 
Would fain, though mist and darkness holds thee, 
For ever and for ever gaze 
Upon the dim clouds that enfold thee ; 
Poring through many a volume weary, 
Toiling through page of schoolmen dreary, 
In faint hope that their mazy line 
Some thread of thee might yet entwine: 
But, oh! (like those dread angels standing 
At Eden’s portal—closed for ever ! 
Never their radiant guard disbanding, 
Lest mortal footstep should endeavour 
To tread once more the odorous gloom 
Where bears the Tree of Life its bloom), 
If beautiful the form thou wearest, 
A weapon, too, of flame thou bearest ; 
And daring need the student be 
Beneath its blaze who seeketh thee. 
Through the winding tower stair, 
Through the stifling dungeon air, 
