Ethereal Minstrel!  Pilgrim of the sky! 
    Dost thou despise the earth where cares abound? 
    Or, while the wings aspire, are heart and eye
    Both with thy nest upon the dewy ground? 
    Thy nest which thou canst drop into at will,
    Those quivering wings composed, that music still!

    To the last point of vision, and beyond,
    Mount, daring warbler! that love-prompted strain,
    (’Twixt thee and thine a never-failing bond)
    Thrills not the less the bosom of the plain: 
    Yet might’st thou seem, proud privilege! to sing
    All independent of the leafy spring.

    Leave to the nightingale her shady wood;
    A privacy of glorious light is thine;
    Whence thou dost pour upon the world a flood
    Of harmony, with instinct more divine;
    Type of the wise who soar, but never roam;
    True to the kindred points of heaven and home!

WORDSWORTH.

* * * * *

SHELLEY’S SKYLARK.—­(Extracts.)

Hail to thee, blithe spirit! 
Bird thou never wert,
That from heaven, or near it,
Pourest thy full heart
In profuse strains of unpremeditated art.

Higher still and higher
From the earth thou springest,
Like a cloud of fire,
The blue deep thou wingest,
And singing still dost soar, and soaring ever singest.

Teach us, sprite or bird,
What sweet thoughts are thine: 
I have never heard
Praise of love or wine
That panted forth a flood of rapture so divine.

Chorus hymeneal
Or triumphal chant
Matched with thine, would be all
But an empty vaunt—­
A thing wherein we feel there is some hidden want.

What objects are the fountains
Of thy happy strain? 
What fields, or waves, or mountains? 
What shapes of sky or plain? 
What love of thine own kind? what ignorance of pain?

Better than all measures
Of delightful sound,
Better than all treasures
That in books are found,
Thy skill to poet were, thou scorner of the ground!

Teach me half the gladness
That thy brain must know,
Such harmonious madness
From my lips would flow
The world should listen then, as I am listening now!

P. B. SHELLEY.

* * * * *

HOGG’S SKYLARK.

Bird of the wilderness,
Blithesome and cumberless,
Sweet be thy matin o’er moorland and lea! 
Emblem of happiness,
Blest is thy dwelling-place,—­
Oh to abide in the desert with thee! 
Wild is the day and loud
Far in the downy cloud,
Love gives it energy, love gave it birth. 
Where, on thy dewy wing,
Where art thou journeying? 
Thy lay is in heaven, thy love is on earth. 
O’er fell and mountain sheen,
O’er moor and mountain green,
O’er the red streamer that heralds the day,
Over the cloudlet dim,
Over the rainbow’s rim,
Musical cherub, soar, singing, away! 
Then, when the gloaming comes,
Low in the heather blooms
Sweet will thy welcome and bed of love be! 
Emblem of happiness,
Blest is thy dwelling-place,
Oh to abide in the desert with thee!