poems.
105
Sweet scenes of peace and beauty! When the breeze
Sweeps like the whisperings of echoing song
Among these branches, it will speak to me,
When here I strays the blessedness of peace.
Alburgh, Vt.
Sweeps like the whisperings of echoing song
Among these branches, it will speak to me,
When here I strays the blessedness of peace.
Alburgh, Vt.
EVENING SCENE IN ITALY.
(Written at the age of 14 years.)
The moon had risen o'er the eastern hills,
Whose shadows spread far o'er the tranquil lake;
The rippl'd waves dash'd faintly on the shore,
And the fair moonbeams softly on them fell,
Or brightly smil'd through groves of forest trees,
Or on the greenwood's paths in chequer'd rays;
The south wind murmur'd oft with pensive sighs,
Filling the gentle air with sweet perfume;
The pure blue sky was spangl'd o'er with stars,
And fleecy clouds mov'd slowly to the north;
The northern lights were shining in the sky;
The ev'ning star was glowing in the west;
The crystal lake reflected all below,
Have when a ripple cross'd the slumb'ring wave
That gently wash'd the broken steps that led
To the dark portals of Albano's hall.
Whose shadows spread far o'er the tranquil lake;
The rippl'd waves dash'd faintly on the shore,
And the fair moonbeams softly on them fell,
Or brightly smil'd through groves of forest trees,
Or on the greenwood's paths in chequer'd rays;
The south wind murmur'd oft with pensive sighs,
Filling the gentle air with sweet perfume;
The pure blue sky was spangl'd o'er with stars,
And fleecy clouds mov'd slowly to the north;
The northern lights were shining in the sky;
The ev'ning star was glowing in the west;
The crystal lake reflected all below,
Have when a ripple cross'd the slumb'ring wave
That gently wash'd the broken steps that led
To the dark portals of Albano's hall.
