Though all the Platos of the nursery trail
Their "clouds of glory" at the go-cart's tail?
O might these couplets their attention claim,
That gain their author the Philistine's name ;
(A stubborn race, that, spurning foreign law,
Was much belaboured with an ass's jaw!)

Melodious Laura! From the sad retreats
That hold thee, smothered with excess of sweets,
Shade of a shadow, spectre of a dream,
Glance thy wan eye across the Stygian stream!
The slip-shod dreamer treads thy fragrant halls
The sophist's cobwebs hang thy roseate walls,
And o'er the crotchets of thy jingling tunes
The bard of mystery scrawls his crooked" runes.
Yes, thou art gone, with all the tuneful hordes
That candied thoughts in amber-coloured words,
And in the precincts of thy late abodes

The clattering verse-wright hammers Orphic odes.
Thou, soft as zephyr, was content to fly
On the gilt pinions of a balmy sigh;

He, vast as Phoebus on his burning wheels,
Would stride through ether at Orion's heels;
Thy emblem, Laura, was a perfume-jar,
And thine, young Orpheus, is a pewter star;
The balance trembles,-be its verdict told
When the new jargon slumbers with the old !

Cease, playful goddess! From thine airy bound
Drop like a feather softly to the ground;
This light bolero grows a ticklish dance,
And there is mischief in thy kindling glance.
To-morrow bids thee, with rebuking frown,
Change thy gauze tunic for a home-made gown,
Too blest by fortune, if the passing day
Adorn thy bosom with its frail bouquet,
But O still happier if the next forgets
Thy daring steps and dangerous pirouettes!

MISCELLANEOUS POEMS.

FROM "THE COLLEGIAN," 1830, ILLUSTRATED ANNUALS, ETC.

Nescit vox missa reverti.-HORAT. Ars Poetica.

Ab iis quæ non adjuvant quam mollissime oportet pedem referre. -QUINTILIAN, 1. vi. c. 4.

The Meeting of the Dryads.1

It was not many centuries since,

When, gathered on the moonlight green,
Beneath the Tree of Liberty,

A ring of weeping sprites was seen.

The freshman's lamp had long been dim,
The voice of busy day was mute,
And tortured Melody had ceased
Her sufferings on the evening flute.

They met not as they once had met,
To laugh o'er many a jocund tale :

But every pulse was beating low,

And every cheek was cold and pale.

There rose a fair but faded one,

Who oft had cheered them with her song;
She waved a mutilated arm,

And silence held the listening throng.

"Sweet friends," the gentle nymph began,
"From opening bud to withering leaf,

One common lot has bound us all,
In every change of joy and grief.

"While all around has felt decay,

We

We rose in ever-living prime,
With broader shade and fresher green,

Beneath the crumbling step of Time.

1 Written after a general pruning of the trees around Harvard College.

"When often by our feet has past
Some biped, Nature's walking whim,
Say, have we trimmed one awkward shape,
Or lopped away one crooked limb?
"Go on, fair Science; soon to thee
Shall Nature yield her idle boast;
Her vulgar fingers formed a tree,
But thou hast trained it to a post.

"Go, paint the birch's silver rind,

And quilt the peach with softer down; Up with the willow's trailing threads, Off with the sunflower's radiant crown!

"Go, plant the lily on the shore,

And set the rose among the waves; And bid the tropic bud unbind

Its silken zone in arctic caves;

"Bring bellows for the panting winds, Hang up a lantern by the moon, And give the nightingale a fife,

And lend the eagle a balloon!

"I cannot smile,-the tide of scorn,

That rolled through every bleeding vein,

Comes kindling fiercer as it flows

66

Back to its burning source again.

Again in every quivering leaf

That moment's agony I feel,

When limbs, that spurned the northern blast,

Shrunk from the sacrilegious steel.

"A curse upon the wretch who dared
To crop us with his felon saw !

May every fruit his lip shall taste
Lie like a bullet in his maw.

"In every julep that he drinks,

May gout, and bile, and headache be; And when he strives to calm his pain, May colic mingle with his tea.

"May nightshade cluster round his path, And thistles shoot, and brambles cling;

May blistering ivy scorch his veins,

And dogwood burn, and nettles sting.

"On him may never shadow fall,

When fever racks his throbbing brow,

And his last shilling buy a rope

To hang him on my highest bough!"
She spoke ;-the morning's herald beam
Sprang from the bosom of the sea,
And every mangled sprite returned
In sadness to her wounded tree.1

The Mysterious Visitor.
THERE was a sound of hurrying feet,
A tramp on echoing stairs,

There was a rush along the aisles,-
It was the hour of prayers.

And on, like Ocean's midnight wave,
The current rolled along,
When, suddenly, a stranger form
Was seen amidst the throng.
He was a dark and swarthy man,
That uninvited guest;

A faded coat of bottle-green

Was buttoned round his breast.
There was not one among them all
Could say from whence he came ;
Nor beardless boy, nor ancient man,
Could tell that stranger's name.

All silent as the sheeted dead,
In spite of sneer and frown,
Fast by a gray-haired senior's side
He sat him boldly down.

There was a look of horror flashed
From out the tutor's eyes;
When all around him rose to pray,
The stranger did not rise!

A murmur broke along the crowd,
The prayer was at an end;

With ringing heels and measured tread,

A hundred forms descend.

Through sounding aisle, o'er grating stair,

The long procession poured,

Till all were gathered on the seats

Around the Commons board.

1 A little poem, on a similar occasion, may be found in the works of Swift, from which, perhaps, the idea was borrowed; although I was as much surprised as amused to meet with it some time after writing the preceding lines.

That fearful stranger! down he sat,
Unasked, yet undismayed;
And on his lip a rising smile
Of scorn or pleasure played.

He took his hat and hung it up,
With slow but earnest air;

He stripped his coat from off his back,
And placed it on a chair.

Then from the nearest neighbour's side
A knife and plate he drew;
And, reaching out his hand again,
He took his teacup too.

How fled the sugar from the bowl!

How sunk the azure cream!

They vanished like the shapes that float
Upon a summer's dream.

A long, long draught,- -an outstretched hand,-
And crackers, toast, and tea,

They faded from the stranger's touch,

Like dew upon the sea.

Then clouds were dark on many a brow,

Fear sat upon their souls,

And in a bitter agony,

They clasped their buttered rolls.

A whisper trembled through the crowd,--
Who could the stranger be?

And some were silent, for they thought
A cannibal was he.

What if the creature should arise,-
For he was stout and tall,-
And swallow down a sophomore,
Coat, crow's-foot, cap, and all !

All sullenly the stranger rose;
They sat in mute despair;
He took his hat from off the peg,
His coat from off the chair.

Four freshmen fainted on the seat,
Six swooned upon the floor;
Yet on the fearful being passed,
And shut the chapel door.

There is full many a starving man,

That walks in bottle green,