Neither check'd by the rich nor the needy they roam, Old Man! whom so oft I with pity have ey'd, H A whirl-blast from behind the hill Rush'd o'er the wood with startling sound: Then all at once the air was still, And showers of hail-stones patter'd round. Of tallest hollies, tall and green, Along the floor, beneath the shade Some Robin Good-fellow were there, And all those leaves, that jump and spring, Were each a joyous, living thing. Oh! grant me Heaven a heart at ease That I may never cease to find, Even in appearances like these Enough to nourish and to stir my mind! Vol. H. SONG FOR THE WANDERING JEW. Though the torrents from their fountains Yet they find among the mountains Though almost with eagle pinion If on windy days the Raven Not the less he loves his haven On the bosom of the cliff. |