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THE SCHOOLBOY.

I LOVE to rise on a summer morn,

When birds are singing on every tree;
The distant huntsman winds his horn,
And the skylark sings with me:
O what sweet company!

But to go to school in a summer morn,-
Oh! it drives all joy away;

Under a cruel eye outworn,

The little ones spend the day
In sighing and dismay.

Ah! then at times I drooping sit

And spend many an anxious hour; Nor in my book can I take delight, Nor sit in learning's bower,

Worn through with the dreary shower.

How can the bird that is born for joy
Sit in a cage and sing?

How can a child, when fears annoy,
But droop his tender wing,
And forget his youthful spring?

O father and mother, if buds are nipp'd,
And blossoms blown away;

And if the tender plants are stripp'd
Of their joy in the springing day,
By sorrow and care's dismay,--

How shall the summer arise in joy,
Or the summer fruits appear?

Or how shall we gather what griefs destroy,
Or bless the mellowing year,

When the blasts of winter appear?

TO TIRZAH.

WHATE'ER is born of Mortal Birth
Must be consumèd with the earth,
To rise from generation free:
Then what have I to do with thee?

The sexes sprang from shame and pride, Blown in the morn, in evening died; But mercy changed death into sleep; The sexes rose to work and weep.

Thou, mother of my mortal part,
With cruelty didst mould my heart,
And with false self-deceiving tears
Didst bind my nostrils, eyes, and ears,

Didst close my tongue in senseless clay, And me to mortal life betray.

The death of Jesus set me free:

Then what have I to do with thee?

THE BOOK OF THEL.

[ENGRAVED 1789.]

[The Thel has been spoken of in the Life (Chapter X. page 76). It is equal in delightfulness to Blake's lyrical poetry; and being the most tender and simple of the class of his works to which it belongs, may prove the most generally acceptable as a specimen of these.]

Does the Eagle know what is in the pit?

Or wilt thou go ask the mole?

Can Wisdom be put in a silver rod?
Or Love in a golden bowl?

THEL

[graphic]

THE daughters of the Seraphim led round their sunny flocks,
All but the youngest: she in paleness sought the secret air
To fade away like morning beauty from her mortal day.
Down by the river of Adona her soft voice is heard,
And thus her gentle lamentation falls like morning dew.

"O life of this our Spring! why fades the lotus of the water? Why fade these children of the Spring, born but to smile and fall?

Ah! Thel is like a watery bow, and like a parting cloud,
Like a reflection in a glass, like shadows in the water,
Like dreams of infants, like a smile upon an infant's face,
Like the dove's voice, like transient day, like music in the air.
Ah! gentle may I lay me down, and gentle rest my head,
And gentle sleep the sleep of death, and gentle hear the voice
Of him that walketh in the garden in the evening time."

The Lily of the valley breathing in the humble grass
Answer'd the lovely maid and said: "I am a watery weed,
And I am very small, and love to dwell in lowly vales;
So weak, the gilded butterfly scarce perches on my head.
Yet I am visited from heaven; and He that smiles on all
Walks in the valley, and each morn over me spreads His hand,
Saying, Rejoice, thou humble grass, thou new-born lily-flower,
Thou gentle maid of silent valleys and of modest brooks;
For thou shalt be clothed in light and fed with morning manna,
Till summer's heat melts thee beside the fountains and the springs
To flourish in eternal vales.' Then why should Thel complain?
Why should the mistress of the vales of Har utter a sigh?"

She ceased and smiled in tears, then sat down in her silver shrine.

Thel answer'd: "O thou little virgin of the peaceful valley, Giving to those that cannot crave, the voiceless, the o'ertired; Thy breath doth nourish the innocent lamb, he smells thy milky garments,

He crops thy flowers, while thou sittest smiling in his face,
Wiping his mild and meekin mouth from all contagious taints.
Thy wine doth purify the golden honey, thy perfume,

Which thou dost scatter on every little blade of grass that springs,
Revives the milked cow, and tames the fire-breathing steed.
But Thel is like a faint cloud kindled at the rising sun :

I vanish from my pearly throne, and who shall find my place?"

"Queen of the vales," the Lily answered, "ask the tender cloud,

And it shall tell thee why it glitters in the morning sky,
And why it scatters its bright beauty through the humid air.
Descend, O little cloud, and hover before the eyes of Thel."

The cloud descended, and the Lily bowed her modest head
And went to mind her numerous charge among the verdant grass.

II.

"O little cloud," the virgin said, "I charge thee tell to me
Why thou complainest not, when in one hour thou fad'st away:
Then we shall seek thee, but not find. Ah! Thel is like to thee;
I pass away, yet I complain and no one hears my voice."

The cloud then showed his golden head, and his bright form emerged

Hovering and glittering on the air before the face of Thel.

"O virgin, know'st thou not our steeds drink of the golden springs
Where Luvah doth renew his horses? Look'st thou on my youth,
And fearest thou because I vanish and am seen no more?
Nothing remains. O maid, I tell thee, when I pass away
It is to tenfold life, to love, to peace, and raptures holy.
Unseen descending weigh my light wings upon balmy flowers,
And court the fair-eyed dew to take me to her shining tent:
The weeping virgin trembling kneels before the risen sun,
Till we arise, link'd in a golden band, and never part,
But walk united, bearing food to all our tender flowers."

"Dost thou, O little cloud? I fear that I am not like thee;
For I walk through the vales of Har, and smell the sweetest
flowers;

But I feed not the little flowers: I hear the warbling birds,
But I feed not the warbling birds, they fly and seek their food:
But Thel delights in these no more because I fade away,
And all shall say, without a use this shining woman liv'd,
Or did she only live to be at death the food of worms?"

The Cloud reclin'd upon his airy throne and answer'd thus:
"Then if thou art the food of worms, O virgin of the skies,

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