Makes audible a linked lay of truth, Of truth profound a sweet continuous lay, Not learnt, but native, her own natural notes! Even throughout his smaller poems there is scarcely one, which is not rendered valuable by some just and original reflection. See page 25, vol. II.: or the two following passages in one of his humblest compositions. “O Reader! had you in your mind Such stores as silent thought can bring, O gentle Reader! you would find A tale in every thing;” and “I’ve heard of hearts unkind, kind deeds With coldness still returning; Alas! the gratitude of men Has oftener left me mourning;” or in a still higher strain the six beautiful quatrains, page 134. “Thus fares it still in our decay: And yet the wiser mind Mourns less for what age takes away Than what it leaves behind. The Blackbird in the summer trees, The Lark upon the hill, Let loose their carols when they please, Are quiet when they will. With Nature never do they wage A foolish strife; they see A happy youth, and their old age Is beautiful and free! But we are pressed by heavy laws; And often glad no more, We wear a face of joy, because We have been glad of yore. If there is one, who need bemoan His kindred laid in earth, The household hearts that were his own, It is the man of mirth. My days, my Friend, are almost gone, My life has been approved, And many love me; but by none Am I enough beloved;” or the sonnet on Buonaparte, page 202, vol. II. or finally (for a volume would scarce suffice to exhaust the instances,) the last stanza of the poem on the withered Celandine, vol. II. p. 312. “To be a Prodigal’s Favorite--then, worse truth, A Miser’s Pensioner--behold our lot! O Man! That from thy fair and shining youth Age might but take the things Youth needed not.”