May Day with the Muses | Page 7

mind had more
Of boundless frolic than of
serious lore;--
Down went his hat, his shaggy friend close by
Dozed
on the grass, yet watch'd his master's eye.
THE SHEPHERD'S DREAM:
OR, FAIRIES' MASQUERADE.
[Illustration]
THE SHEPHERD'S DREAM: OR, FAIRIES' MASQUERADE.
I had folded my flock, and my heart was o'erflowing,
I loiter'd beside
the small lake on the heath;
The red sun, though down, left his
drapery glowing,
And no sound was stirring, I heard not a breath:
I
sat on the turf, but I meant not to sleep,
And gazed o'er that lake
which for ever is new,
Where clouds over clouds appear'd anxious to
peep
From this bright double sky with its pearl and its blue.
Forgetfulness, rather than slumber, it seem'd,
When in infinite
thousands the fairies arose
All over the heath, and their tiny crests
gleam'd
In mock'ry of soldiers, our friends and our foes.
There a
stripling went forth, half a finger's length high,
And led a huge host to
the north with a dash;
Silver birds upon poles went before their wild
cry,
While the monarch look'd forward, adjusting his sash.

Soon after a terrible bonfire was seen,
The dwellings of fairies went
down in their ire,
But from all I remember, I never could glean
Why
the woodstack was burnt, or who set it on fire.
The flames seem'd to
rise o'er a deluge of snow,
That buried its thousands,--the rest ran
away;
For the hero had here overstrain'd his long bow,
Yet he
honestly own'd the mishap of the day.
Then the fays of the north like a hailstorm came on,
And follow'd him
down to the lake in a riot,
Where they found a large stone which they
fix'd him upon,
And threaten'd, and coax'd him, and bade him be
quiet.
He that couquer'd them all, was to conquer no more,
But the
million beheld he could conquer alone;
After resting awhile, he leap'd
boldly on shore,
When away ran a fay that had mounted his throne.
'Twas pleasant to see how they stared, how they scamper'd,
By
furze-bush, by fern, by no obstacle stay'd,
And the few that held
council, were terribly hamper'd,
For some were vindictive, and some
were afraid.
I saw they were dress'd for a masquerade train,

Colour'd rags upon sticks they all brandish'd in view,
And of such
idle things they seem'd mightily vain,
Though they nothing display'd
but a bird split in two.
Then out rush'd the stripling in battle array,
And both sides
determined to fight and to maul:
Death rattled his jawbones to see
such a fray,
And glory personified laugh'd at them all.
Here he
fail'd,--hence he fled, with a few for his sake,
And leap'd into a
cockle-shell floating hard by;
It sail'd to an isle in the midst of the
lake,
Where they mock'd fallen greatness, and left him to die.
Meanwhile the north fairies stood round in a ring,
Supporting his
rival on guns and on spears,
Who, though not a soldier, was robed
like a king;
Yet some were exulting, and some were in tears.
A lily
triumphantly floated above,
The crowd press'd, and wrangling was
heard through the whole; Some soldiers look'd surly, some citizens

strove
To hoist the old nightcap on liberty's pole.
But methought in my dream some bewail'd him that fell,
And liked
not his victors so gallant, so clever,
Till a fairy stepp'd forward, and
blew through a shell,
"Bear misfortune with firmness, you'll triumph
for ever."
I woke at the sound, all in silence, alone,
The moor-hens
were floating like specks on a glass,
The dun clouds were spreading,
the vision was gone,
And my dog scamper'd round 'midst the dew on
the grass.
I took up my staff, as a knight would his lance,
And said, "Here 's my
sceptre, my baton, my spear,
And there's my prime minister far in
advance,
Who serves me with truth for his food by the year."
So I
slept without care till the dawning of day,
Then trimm'd up my
woodbines and whistled amain;
My minister heard as he bounded
away,
And we led forth our sheep to their pastures again.
Scorch'd by the shadeless sun on Indian plains,
Mellow'd by age, by
wants, and toils, and pains,
Those toils still lengthen'd when he
reach'd that shore
Where Spain's bright mountains heard the cannons
roar,
A pension'd veteran, doom'd no more to roam,
With glowing
heart thus sung the joys of home.
THE SOLDIER'S HOME.
[Illustration.]
THE SOLDIER'S HOME.
My untried muse shall no high tone assume,
Nor strut in
arms;--farewell my cap and plume:
Brief be my verse, a task within
my power,
I tell my feelings in one happy hour;
But what an hour
was that! when from the main
I reach'd this lovely valley once again!

A glorious harvest fill'd my eager sight,
Half shock'd, half waving
in a flood of light;
On that poor cottage roof where I was born
The

sun look'd down as in life's early morn.
I gazed around, but not a soul
appear'd,
I listen'd on the threshold, nothing heard;
I call'd my
father thrice, but no one came;
It was not fear or grief that shook my
frame,
But an o'erpowering sense of peace and home,
Of toils gone
by, perhaps of