Long-favoured England! be not thou misled By monstrous theories of alien growth, Lest alien frenzy seize thee, waxing wroth, Self-smitten till thy garments reek dyed red With thy own blood, which tears in torrents shed 5 Fail to wash out, tears flowing ere thy troth Be plighted, not to ease but sullen sloth, Or wan despair--the ghost of false hope fled Into a shameful grave. Among thy youth, My Country! if such warning be held dear, 10 Then shall a Veteran’s heart be thrilled with joy, One who would gather from eternal truth, For time and season, rules that work to cheer-- Not scourge, to save the People--not destroy. “LO! WHERE SHE STANDS FIXED IN A SAINT-LIKE TRANCE” Published 1842 One of the “Miscellaneous Sonnets.”--ED. Lo! where she stands fixed in a saint-like trance, One upward hand, as if she needed rest From rapture, lying softly on her breast! Nor wants her eyeball an ethereal glance; But not the less--nay more--that countenance, 5 While thus illumined, tells of painful strife For a sick heart made weary of this life By love, long crossed with adverse circumstance. --Would She were now as when she hoped to pass At God’s appointed hour to them who tread 10 Heaven’s sapphire pavement, yet breathed well content, Well pleased, her foot should print earth’s common grass, Lived thankful for day’s light, for daily bread, For health, and time in obvious duty spent. THE NORMAN BOY Published 1842 [The subject of this poem was sent me by Mrs. Ogle, to whom I was personally unknown, with a hope on her part that I might be induced to relate the incident in verse; and I do not regret that I took the trouble, for not improbably the fact is illustrative of the boy’s early piety, and may concur with my other little pieces on children to produce profitable reflection among my youthful readers. This is said, however, with an absolute conviction that children will derive most benefit from books which are not unworthy the perusal of persons of any age. I protest with all my heart against those productions, so abundant in the present day, in which the doings of children are dwelt upon as if they were incapable of being interested in anything else. On this subject I have dwelt at length in the poem on the growth of my own mind.--I.F.] One of the “Poems referring to the Period of Childhood.”--ED. High on a broad unfertile tract of forest-skirted Down, Nor kept by Nature for herself, nor made by man his own, From home and company remote and every playful joy, Served, tending a few sheep and goats, a ragged Norman boy.