12 HENUY KIKKE WHITE S POEMS. 



Sweet then to us was that romantic band, 



The ancient legends of our native land — 



Chivalric Britomart, and Una fair, 



And courteous Constance, doom'd to dark despair. 



By turns our thoughts engaged ; and oft we talk'd 



Of times when monarch Superstition stalk'd, 



And when the blood-fraught galliots of Rome 



Brought the grand Druid fabric to its doom ; 



While where ^he wood-hurg Menai's waters flow 



The hoary harpers pour'd the strain of woe. 



While thus employ'd, to us how sad the bell 



Which summon'd us to school ! 'Twas Fancy's knell, 



And sadly sounding on the sullen ear, 



It spoke of study pale, and chilling fear. 



Yet even then (for oh, what chains can bind, 



What powers control, the energies of mind ?) 



E'en there we soar'd to many a height sublime, 



And many a day-dream charm'd the lazy time. 



At evening, too, how pleasing was our walk, 



Endear'd by Friendship's unrestrained talk, 



When to the upland heights w^e bent our way, 



To view the last beam of departing day ; 



How calm was all around I no playful breeze 



Sigh'd 'mid the wavy foliage of the trees. 



But all was still, save when, with drowsy song, 



The grey-fly wound his sullen horn along ; 



And save when, heard in soft, yet merry glee, 



The distant church-bells' mellow harmony ; 



The silver mirror of the lucid brook, 



That "mid the tufted broom its still course took ; 



The rugged arch, that clasp'd its silent tides. 



With moss and rank weeds hanging down its sides : 



The craggy rock, that jutted on the sight; 



The shrieking bat, that took its heavy flight ; 



All, all was pregnant with divine delight. 



We loved to watch the swallow swimming high, 



In the bright azure of the vaulted sky ; 



Or gaze upon the clouds, whose colour'd pride 



Was scatter'd thinly o"er the welkin wide, 



