424 THE VALLEY OF NIGHTINGALES. 



Dost thou see yon flush'd Hectic, of health poor re- 

 mainder, 

 With a dark hollow eye and a thin sunken cheek ; 

 While Affection hangs o'er him with thoughts that 

 have pain'd her, 

 And that comfort and hope still forbid her to speak?* 



Yes, Friendships ! Affections! ye ties the most 

 tender ! 



Fate, merciless Fate, your connexion will sever ;•— 

 To that tyrant remorseless, all — all must surrender ! 



I once had a Son — here we parted for ever !f 



Now the sun o'er the earth rides in glory unclouded ; 



The Rocks and the Valleys delightedly sing ; 

 The Birds in wild concert, in yonder wood shrouded. 



Awake a loud chorus to welcome the spring. 



And this is the Valley of Nightingales; — listen 

 To those full-swelling sounds — with those pauses 

 between, 

 Where the bright waving shrubs midst the pale hazels 

 glisten, 

 There oft may a troop of the songsters be seen. 



May, 1826. 



* The Hotwells are, unfortunately, too often the last resort 

 of the consumptive. 

 t A promising youth who died some years since at Berbice. 





