Where leafless Oaks tower'd high above, I sate within an undergrove Of tallest hollies, tall and green, A fairer bower was never seen. From year to year the spacious floor With wither'd leaves is cover'd o'er, You could not lay a hair between: And all the year the bower is green. But see! where'er the hailstones drop The wither'd leaves all skip and hop, There's not a breeze--no breath of air-- Yet here, and there, and every where Along the floor, beneath the shade By those embowering hollies made, The leaves in myriads jump and spring, As if with pipes and music rare 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! SONG FOR THE WANDERING JEW. Though the torrents from their fountains Roar down many a craggy steep, Yet they find among the mountains Resting-places calm and deep. Though almost with eagle pinion O'er the rocks the Chamois roam. Yet he has some small dominion Which no doubt he calls his home. If on windy days the Raven Gambol like a dancing skiff, Not the less he loves his haven On the bosom of the cliff. Though the Sea-horse in the ocean Own no dear domestic cave; Yet he slumbers without motion On the calm and silent wave. Day and night my toils redouble! Never nearer to the goal, Night and day, I feel the trouble, Of the Wanderer in my soul. RUTH. RUTH. When Ruth was left half desolate, Her Father took another Mate; And so, not seven years old, The slighted Child at her own will Went wandering over dale and hill In thoughtless freedom bold. And she had made a pipe of straw And from that oaten pipe could draw All sounds of winds and floods; Had built a bower upon the green, As if she from her birth had been An Infant of the woods. There came a Youth from Georgia's shore, A military Casque he wore With splendid feathers drest; He brought them from the Cherokees; The feathers nodded in the breeze And made a gallant crest. From Indian blood you deem him sprung: Ah no! he spake the English tongue And bare a Soldier's name; And when America was free From battle and from jeopardy He cross the ocean came. With hues of genius on his cheek In finest tones the Youth could speak. --While he was yet a Boy The moon, the glory of the sun, And streams that murmur as they run Had been his dearest joy. He was a lovely Youth! I guess The panther in the wilderness Was not so fair as he; And when he chose to sport and play, No dolphin ever was so gay Upon the tropic sea. Among the Indians he had fought, And with him many tales he brought Of pleasure and of fear, Such tales as told to any Maid By such a Youth in the green shade Were perilous to hear.