180 IIENEY KIEKE WHITE's POEMS. 



What, though the social circle be denied. 

 Even Sadness brightens at her own fireside ; 

 Loves, with fixed eye, to watch the fluttering blaze, 

 While musing ^lemory dwells on former days ; 

 Or Hope, bless'd spirit ! smiles — and, still forgiven, 

 Forgets the passport, while she points to Heaven. 

 Then heap the fire — shut out the biting air. 

 And from its station wheel the easy chair : 

 Thus fenced and warm, in silence fit, 'tis sweet 

 To hear without the bitter tempest beat, 

 And, all alone, to sit, and muse, and sigh, 

 The pensive tenant of obscurity. 



FRAGMENTS. 



These fragments are the Author's latest compositions ; and were, for 

 the most part, written npon the back of his matlieraatical papers, 

 during the few moments of the last year of his life in which he 

 suffered himself to follow the impulse of his genius.] 



"Saw'st thou that light?" exclaim'd the youth, and paus'd; 



" Through yon dark firs it glanced, and on the stream 



That skirts the woods, it for a moment played. 



Again, more light it gleamed, — or does some sprite 



Delude mine eyes with shapes of wood and streams. 



And lamp far beaming through the thicket's gloom, 



As from some bosom'd cabin, where the voice 



Of revelry, or thrifty watchfulness, 



Keeps in the lights at this unwonted hour ? 



No sprite deludes mine eyes, — the beam now glows 



With steady lustre. — Can it be the moon, 



Who, hidden long by the invidious veil 



That blots the Heavens, now sets behind the woods ?" — 



" No moon to-night has looked upon the sea 



j Of clouds beneath her," answered Rudiger, i 



i " She has been sleeping with Endymion." 



