BALLAD.
’Tis dreamy midnight’s solemn hour
The busy village sleeps,
And the pale moonbeam’s silver she
Its nightly vigil keeps;

Wail! Wail!
For a sub hath set.
Which no returning morrow
Shall ever call
From the darksome pall,

You have no enemies, you say?
Alas! my friend, the boast is poor
He who has mingled in the fray
Of duty, that the brave endure,
Must have made foes! If you have

’Tis sweet, in the shade of the lo
In the dewy morning time,
To hear the song of the joyous lar
Or the distant village chime;
Or to sit and think,

Why, Solitude, why hath the minst
The festive repast of the fair and
Why leaves he the city,
The wise and the witty,
To roam thro’ the woods in communi

I’m poor and quite unknown,
I have neither fame nor rank;
My labour is all I own,
I have no gold at the bank;
I’m one of the common crowd,

O! for an eagle’s wings,
To brave the rugged blast,
In spite of wind and storm to soar
O’er mount and meadow vast.
O! that I might, like thee,

When tke sentinel mastiff keepeth
And all is dark in the farmer’s ya
Ere the early cock hath begun to c
Abroad with the owl and the bat we
Thirst is mighty-hunger is strong

Why, O wind of summer.
Why that restless moan?
Weepest thou for pleasures
That are past and gone?
Mournest thou for visions

Cleon hath a million acres,
Ne’er a one have I;
Cleon dwelleth in a palace,
In a cottage I;
Cleon hath a dozen fortunes,