PSEUDO-PATRIOTISM.

How few there are who well deserve
The Patriot's laurel-crown;
Who never from their duty swerve,
Or lose their high renown!

A traitor's name doth stain the fame Of Wallenstein the brave;

The honours which he could not claim Adorn his rival's grave.*

Rienzi, thou didst promise well,
But hast betray'd thy trust;

Yes! when the traitor-tribune fell
His death was surely just.

*The great Gustavus Adolphus.

TO BERNARD BARTON.

UNLIKE indeed the meteor light
That dazzles to betray,

Thou art a star to bless our sight,

And lead us on our way.

Mild are the breathings of thy lyre,

Thou gentle bard, yet strong Thy verse, whene'er thy "muse of fire" To heaven directs her song.

Thou hast not drunk, as others have,
From pleasure's poisoned chalice;
Nor dost thou, misanthropic, rave
Against imagined malice.

How stainless thy poetic wreath!

How beautiful its hue!

Unsullied by the world's gross breath,

It looks for ever new.

WILLERSLEY.

TREES (how majestical!) along the glade
Give "boundless contiguity of shade;"
Sheltered beneath their umbrage, let me rove,
In paths which sacred are to peace and love—
Where Rasselas might find content at last—
Where e'en his Happy Valley is surpast-
Where dimpling cheeks and laughing eyes express,
If it be found on earth, true happiness.
See, woods along the rocky steep
Magnificently rise;

How graceful is the mountain's sweep!
How beautiful the skies!

E'en the projecting crags are dight

In the rich hues of morning light!
While Willersley is Cromford's boast,*
Can Paradise be wholly lost?

* Willersley is the seat of Richard Arkwright, Esq. It is situated on a beautiful eminence about a mile from Matlock, just above the romantic village of Cromford.

The tangled shrubs creep o'er yon distant hills, Whose soil more rugged seems; and there,

'Mid giant stones uncouth and bare, Leap out unnumber'd rills.

Their course the lively waters take
Through clefts, as lizards thrid the brake;
Or where dark precipices frown,

Rush with collected fury down.

How sparkling are the streams! how bright

The glorious falls where they unite!

Where trees, fantastically wove,

Form a green canopy above!

And then the spray, that dews the bower
Above, descends a cloud-like shower;
There's contrast too of light and shade,
As sun-beams the recess invade.
The wild fern well becomes its place;
The brushwood has luxuriant grace.

Tradition says that yon bold rocks
Were shiver'd by an earthquake's shocks;
For nature's mighty agents here

Work out their wonders far and near.

Spirits of air and water, ye

Act with portentous energy,

Whether ye seek the cavern's gloom,

Or roar within the mountain's womb ; And broken crags and harden'd weeds