The Liverpool Standard and General Commercial Advertiser.
Liverpool, Merseyside, England, 1832-11-23 00:00:00

Voettv.

Much is the force of heaven-bred poesy.
Sumisrßtxu.

LIGHT AND THE SEASONS.
(Pram Lyric Leaves, by Cornelius Webl7e.)

Hail, holy Light! that comest with silver flood
TO glad the earth and. gratify the good—r
To drive the ruffian from his darkling trade,
And wake the .honest, whq e-ith login And spade
Weave the warm web and delve the pregnant ground.
Already,—hark !—the miller's wheel whifle round,
And his loud song in louder noise is droWned.
The shepherd boy,,who-stivred with morning's star.
Unfolds his ravening flock, and drives afar ~
Where vezdurelives tligughiscanty-NXter;rign.s--
TO sheltereil hills ,licipa:sture'-FulftiredlSTains.
The woodman, too, with sturdy step and slow.
-Winds to the wood, io lay its lofty low.
The rural life is stirring every where ;
And sounds of summermurmur through the air !
One voice alone—sweeter than, oaten flute,
Or lover's passion melting o'er his lute—
One rural sound and song alone is mute :
The Lark, .the wakeful usher of the dawn,
Pours no high orison, nor welcomes l'dorn.
The Robin only, of the summer throng,
rills with short intervals his plaintive song ;
Pleased with all seasons—autumn, Winter; spring—
He sings through all, and gives them welcoming!—
So should the Poet's serious anthem rise
With holy airs and solemn symphonies,
Whether the gladdening Spring and Summer reign,
Or raging Winter desolate the plain ;
In forest bare as in the clustered bower,
His various voice should hymn the -Varking hour.
Seasons may change, and with them change the song,
But full the tide of praise should pauseless pour along.

THE, WEAVER'S WIFE.

(From the same.)

Our danghters are a handsome rare,—
You wished them like to me ;
Our sons they have their father's face,--
A better cannot be ;—,
Oh may their lot, as our's has. been,
Be neither hi,th nor low, •
Then happy to their gravel of green
Like us, at last, they'll go I

Then let me kiss that comely cheek,
Where.lineers still the smile .
That eheer'd me„when the world was bleak,
With many a pleasant wile.
Thi4 hand, that trembles now in mine,
The tear that tills vn'ir eye,
Cfmfesit rynr hearts knew no decline.
Nor shall they till we die !

God meant us for eaeh other, Will,
hoth,our lives have run
To ether, and are woven still
LilTe many thiTarlA in (me !
lin infancy.' I mind it well,
• Our mothers., in their ~lee;
Paired Willy Gray with Lucy Ben,
And so it came to he.

And T recall- it fresh to mind,
s 'twerß hut
Wi.en with 011rlitfle Ewa, entwined'
We SfraizTed miles array,
Aril in the sun and in the shade,
tnd br the river's side,
We prattled, slont,.and walked and played
From morn till eventide.

THE HOMES OP ENGLAND.

By Mrs. Horsasts.)

The stittlir homes of England,
How beautiful they stand!
Amidst their tall ancestral trees,
O'er all the pleasant land!
The deer across their greensward'bound
Through shade and sunny gleam,
Aad the swan glides past them with the sound
Of some rejoicing stream.

Thii.merryNomes of -England !
Around their hearths by nigh t,
What Oadsome looks of household love
Meet hi the ruddy light t
There woman's yoiee flows forth in song,
Or childhood's tate is told; -
Or move tunefully along
.14Onte gloribuS pake Orold.

The blessed homes of England!
110 w softly on theit bcnirers
Is laid the 11(14; quietness
That breathes from Sabbath-hours I.
Solemn, yet sweet, the church-bell's chime
Floats through their woods at morn,
All other sounds in that still time
Of breeze and leaf are born.

The cottage homes of England!
By thousands on her plains,
They are smiling o'er the silvery brook,
And round the hamlet7fanes.
Through glowing Ofehards forth they peep,
Each from its nook of leaves:
And fearless there the lowly sleep.
As the bird beneath their eaves.

The free fair homes of England !
Lonk, long in huland. hall
May hearts of native proof be reared
To guard each hallowed wall.
And green for ever be the groves.
And bright the flowery sod,
'(here first the child's glad spirit loves
It 4 country tmd its GOD.

MY NATIVE 'LAND. •
(Frain the New Operii of " The Nunnery of St. Mary's Isle.)

RECITATIVE AND AIR.

Edwin, thi Minstrel Page of Mac daillenmgre.

RECITATIVE.
Beyond the Ocean, on a distant foreign shore,
Whose skies are ever bright, and blooming all the Strand,
In my dreams I shall revisit o'er the wave's roar
The land of Mountains, clouds and storms—Mv Native Land.
Deep Glens! pure streamS! with you
All my affections shall dwell.—
Scenes of my youth, Adieu!
Scotia! Beloved, Farewell!