210 
HAREBELL. 
So, conscious of its lowly state, 
Trembles the heart assail’d by fate ; 
Yet when the fleeting blast is o’er, 
Settles as transient as before. 
While the proud breast no peace shall find. 
No refuge for a troubled mind. 
The same —anon. 
With drooping bells of clearest blue 
Thou didst attract my childish view. 
Almost resembling 
The azure butterflies that flew 
Where on the heath thy blossoms grew, 
So lightly trembling. 
Where feathery fern, and golden broom, 
Increase the sand-rock cavern’s gloom, 
I’ve seen thee tangled, 
’Mid tufts of purple heather bloom, 
By vain Arachne’s treacherous loom, 
With dew-drops spangled. 
’Mid ruins tumbling to decay, 
Thy flowers their heavenly hues display, 
Still freshly springing ; 
Where pride and pomp have passed away. 
On mossy tomb and turret gray. 
Like friendship clinging. 
