TO THE SAME FLOWER.

Pleasures newly found are sweet When they lie about our feet: February last my heart First at sight of thee was glad; All unheard of as thou art, Thou must needs, I think, have had, Celandine! and long ago, Praise of which I nothing know.

I have not a doubt but he, Whosoe'er the man might be, 10 Who the first with pointed rays, (Workman worthy to be sainted) Set the Sign-board in a blaze, When the risen sun he painted, Took the fancy from a glance At thy glittering countenance.

Soon as gentle breezes bring News of winter's vanishing, And the children build their bowers, Sticking 'kerchief-plots of mold 20 All about with full-blown flowers, Thick as sheep in shepherd's fold! With the proudest Thou art there, Mantling in the tiny square.

Often have I sigh'd to measure By myself a lonely pleasure; Sigh'd to think, I read a book Only read perhaps by me; Yet I long could overlook Thy bright coronet and Thee, 30 And thy arch and wily ways, And thy store of other praise.

Blithe of heart, from week to week Thou dost play at hide-and-seek; While the patient Primrose sits Like a Beggar in the cold, Thou, a Flower of wiser wits, Slipp'st into thy shelter'd hold: Bright as any of the train When ye all are out again. 40

Thou art not beyond the moon, But a thing "beneath our shoon;" Let, as old Magellen did, Others roam about the sea; Build who will a pyramid; Praise it is enough for me, If there be but three or four Who will love my little Flower.

CHARACTER of the HAPPY WARRIOR.

Who is the happy Warrior? Who is he Whom every Man in arms should wish to be? —It is the generous Spirit, who, when brought Among the tasks of real life, hath wrought Upon the plan that pleased his childish thought: Whose high endeavours are an inward light That make the path before him always bright: Who, with a natural instinct to discern What knowledge can perform, is diligent to learn; Abides by this resolve, and stops not there, 10 But makes his moral being his prime care; Who, doom'd to go in company with Pain, And Fear, and Bloodshed, miserable train! Turns his necessity to glorious gain; In face of these doth exercise a power Which is our human-nature's highest dower; Controls them and subdues, transmutes, bereaves Of their bad influence, and their good receives; By objects, which might force the soul to abate Her feeling, render'd more compassionate; 20 Is placable because occasions rise So often that demand such sacrifice; More skilful in self-knowledge, even more pure, As tempted more; more able to endure, As more expos'd to suffering and distress; Thence, also, more alive to tenderness. Tis he whose law is reason; who depends Upon that law as on the best of friends; Whence, in a state where men are tempted still To evil for a guard against worse ill, 30 And what in quality or act is best Doth seldom on a right foundation rest, He fixes good on good alone, and owes To virtue every triumph that he knows: —Who, if he rise to station of command, Rises by open means; and there will stand On honourable terms, or else retire, And in himself possess his own desire; Who comprehends his trust, and to the same Keeps faithful with a singleness of aim; 40 And therefore does not stoop, nor lie in wait For wealth, or honors, or for worldly state; Whom they must follow; on whose head must fall, Like showers of manna, if they come at all: Whose powers shed round him in the common strife, Or mild concerns of ordinary life, A constant influence, a peculiar grace; But who, if he be called upon to face Some awful moment to which heaven has join'd Great issues, good or bad for human-kind, 50 Is happy as a Lover; and attired With sudden brightness like a Man inspired; And through the heat of conflict keeps the law In calmness made, and sees what he foresaw; Or if an unexpected call succeed, Come when it will, is equal to the need: —He who, though thus endued as with a sense And faculty for storm and turbulence, Is yet a Soul whose master bias leans To home-felt pleasures and to gentle scenes; 60 Sweet images! which, wheresoe'er he be, Are at his heart; and such fidelity It is his darling passion to approve; More brave for this, that he hath much to love: 'Tis, finally, the Man, who, lifted high, Conspicuous object in a Nation's eye, Or left unthought-of in obscurity, Who, with a toward or untoward lot, Prosperous or adverse, to his wish or not, Plays, in the many games of life, that one 70 Where what he most doth value must be won; Whom neither shape of danger can dismay, Nor thought of tender happiness betray; Who, not content that former worth stand fast, Looks forward, persevering to the last, From well to better, daily self-surpast: Who, whether praise of him must walk the earth For ever, and to noble deeds give birth, Or He must go to dust without his fame, And leave a dead unprofitable name, 80 Finds comfort in himself and in his cause; And, while the mortal mist is gathering, draws His breath in confidence of Heaven's applause; This is the happy Warrior; this is He Whom every Man in arms should wish to be.

* * * * *

The above Verses mere written soon after tidings had been received of the Death of Lord Nelson, which event directed the Author's thoughts to the subject. His respect for the memory of his great fellow-countryman induces him to mention this; though he is well aware that the Verses must suffer from any connection in the Reader's mind with a Name so illustrious.