tINGALE;A VERSAtIONAL POEM, RIttEN IN APRIL, 1798.

        No cloud, no relique of the sunken day

        Distinguis, no long thin slip

        Of sullen Ligrembling hues.

        e,    on this old mossy Bridge!

        You see tream beh,

        But    ?oly

        Oer its soft bed of verdure. All is still,

        A balmy nigars be dim,

        Yet let us the vernal showers

        t gladden th, and we shall ?nd

        A pleasure in tars.

        And ingale begins its song,

        "Most musical, most melanc;[1] Bird!

        A melanc!

        In nature thing melancholy.

        --But some nig iercd

        ithe remembrance of a grievous wrong,

        Or sloemper lected love,

        (And so, poor retch himself

        And made all gentle sounds tell back tale

        Of his own sorrows) he and such as he

        First namd tes a melan;

        And many a poet ec,

        Poet, whe rhyme

        ter far retchd his limbs

        Beside a brook in mossy forest-dell

        By sun or moonligo the in?uxes

        Of sing elements

        Surrendering , of his song

        And of ful! so his fame

        Sures immortality,

        A venerable thing! and so his song

        Sure lovelier, and itself

        Be lovd, like nature!--But t be so;

        And yout poetical

        wilighe spring

        In ball-rooms and    tres, till

        Full of meek sympat heir sighs

        Oer Py-pleading strains.

        My Friend, and my Friends Sister! we

        A different lore:    thus profane

        Natures s voices always full of love

        And joyais tingale

        t croes

        it tes,

        As    an April night

        ould be too s for o utter forth

        , and disburthen his full soul

        Of all its musid I know a grove

        Of large extent, le huge

        lord ins not: and so

        tangling underwood,

        And trim walks are broken up, and grass,

        ths.

        But never elsewhere in one place I knew

        So many Nightingales: and far and near

        In    over the wide grove

        thers songs--

        ith skirmish and capricious passagings,

        And murmurs musical and s jug jug

        And one lo than all--

        Stirring th su harmony,

        t s almost

        Fet it    day! On moonlight bushes,

        s are but half disclosd,

        You may percwigs,

        t, brig and full,

        Glistning, whe shade

        Ligorch.

        A most gentle maid

        able home

        le, and at latest eve,

        (Even like a Lady voe

        to someture in the grove)

        Glides tes,

        t gentle Maid! and oft, a moments space,

        time t behind a cloud,

        ill the Moon

        Emerging, h and sky

        ition, and those wakeful Birds

        fortrelsy,

        As if one quid sudden Gale

        An chd

        Many a Nightingale perch giddily

        On blosmy till she breeze,

        And to t motion tune on song,

        Like tipsy Joy t reels ossing head.

        Fareill to-morrow eve,

        And you, my friends! farewell, a s farewell!

        e ering long and pleasantly,

        And norain again!

        Full fain it would delay me!--My dear Babe,

        iculate sound,

        Mars all tative lisp,

        how he would place his hand beside his ear,

        tle he small fer up,

        And bid us listen! And I deem it wise

        to make ures playmate. he knows well

        tar: and once when he awoke

        In most distressful mood (some inain

        stras dream)

        I o our orc,

        And    once

        Suspends    silently,

        s tears

        Did glitter in the yellow moon-beam! ell--

        It is a fatale. But if t heaven

        Should give me life, his childhood shall grow up

        Familiar

        e Joy! Once more farewell,

        S Nightingale! once more, my friends! farewell.

        [1] "_Most musical, most melanc; tonpossesses an excellence far superior to t of meredescription: it is spoken in ter of tic_ propriety. to rescue y to a line in Milton: a co    per ofhaving ridiculed his Bible.
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