FRAGMENTS. 179 | 



Though still intelligence beamed in the glance, 



Ihe liquid lustre of her fine blue eye ; 

 Yet soon did languid listlessness advance, 

 And soon she calnilj sunk in death's repugnant trance. 



Even when her end was swiftly drawing near, 

 And dissolution hovered o'er her head ; 



Even then so hcauteoiis did her form appear, 

 That none who saw her but admiring said, 

 Sure so much beauty never could be dead. 



Vet the dark lash of her expressive eye, 



Bent lowly down upon the languid — ■ — 



* * * « 



FRAGMENT. 



Loud rage the winds without. — The wintry cloud 

 O'er the cold north star casts her fitting shroud ; 

 And silence, pausing in some snow-clad dale, 

 Starts as she hears, by fits, the shrieking gale ; 

 Where now shut out from every still retreat 

 Her pine-clad summit, and her woodland seat, 

 Shall Meditation, in her saddest mood, 

 Retire, o'er all her pensive stores to brood ? 

 Shivering and blue, the peasant eyes askance 

 The drifted fleeces that around him dance ; 

 And hurries on his half averted form, 

 Stemming the fury of the sidelong storm. 

 Him soon shall greet his snow-topt [cot of thatch'j, 

 Soon shall his "numbed hand tremble on tlie latch ; 

 Soon from his chimney's nook the cheerful flame 

 Diffuse a genial warmth throughout his frame. 

 Kound the light fire, while roars the north wind loud, 

 What merry groups of vacant faces crowd ; 

 These hail his coming — these his meal prej)are, 

 And boast in all that cot no lurking care. 



