Conflicting, but yet blandly, with its strife.
As the still car of Time rolled on, thy cheek
Wore the same smile, yet with a trace more weak.
Lone sorrow came as life declined, and care,
And age, with slowly furrowing line, was there.

I could have spared this fearful sight! Most strange
Is the eventful tale of mortal change,
Inevitable; but death, brought so nigh,
In form so tangible, harrows the eye.
As all the past floats like a cloud away,
Alas, poor Sheridan! I turn and say,
Not without feelings which such sights impart,
Sad, but instructive, to the Christian's heart!

_May 18, 1826._

* * * * *

RETURN OF GEORGE III. TO WINDSOR CASTLE.

Not that thy name, illustrious dome! recalls
The pomp of chivalry in bannered halls,
The blaze of beauty, and the gorgeous sights
Of heralds, trophies, steeds, and crested knights;
Not that young Surrey there beguiled the hour
With "eyes upturned unto the maiden's tower;"
Oh! not for these the muse officious brings
Her gratulations to the best of kings;
But that from cities and from crowds withdrawn,
Calm peace may meet him on the twilight lawn;
That here among these gray primeval trees,
He may inhale health's animating breeze;
That these old oaks, which far their shadows cast,
May soothe him while they whisper of the past;
And when from that proud terrace he surveys
Slow Thames devolving his majestic maze
(Now lost on the horizon's verge, now seen
Winding through lawns and woods, and pastures green),
May he reflect upon the waves that roll,
Bearing a nation's wealth from pole to pole;
And own (ambition's proudest boast above)
A king's best glory is his country's love.

* * * * *

ON MEETING SOME FRIENDS OF YOUTH AT CHELTENHAM,

FOR THE FIRST TIME SINCE WE PARTED AT OXFORD.

"And wept to see the paths of life divide."--_Shenstone_.

Here the companions of our careless prime,
Whom fortune's various ways have severed long,
Since that fair dawn when Hope her vernal song
Sang blithe, with features marked by stealing time
At these restoring springs are met again!
We, young adventurers on life's opening road,
Set out together; to their last abode
Some have sunk silent, some a while remain,
Some are dispersed; of many, growing old
In life's obscurer bourne, no