A SONG OF THE DEE.

Он! blessed be the Power

That oft remits an hour

From the far and wide enthralment of the world's nets ever

spread;

And tenderly unsealing

The founts of light and feeling

Revivifies the dormant heart, and clears the troubled head!

Be mine to clasp the pleasure,

To use aright the treasure,

Enjoy the golden season ere its April brightness fails ;-
Renew the old emotion

Of mountain, vale and ocean

Of elemental liberty that cannot pass from Wales !

From cottage walls retreating,

When night and day are meeting,

I seek the sinuous margin of Deva's holy stream;
Where vernal boughs embracing,

And lightly interlacing,

Involve the fitful star and the noon's translucent beam:

Where purest dews descending,

With heat prolific blending,

Deck Spring's triumphant feet with the hyacinth's fair bells ;Cowslip, child-wept when perished—

Anemone song-cherished,

And violet, stainless beauty of the Naïad-haunted dells:

Where the old historic River

Flows on, flows on for ever,

Bearing his ancient tribute to the mightier stream of Time; But here no ivied ruin,

Or work of man's renewing,

Shows stateliness or loveliness less perfect than its prime.

Glide the waters still serenely

Through meadows lying greenly,

Which render back in beauty the bounty they receive;
Or surging on and singing

Through white rocks midway springing,

Bent, broken, yet unchanging still, their rapid way achieve.

With vital force eternal,

Fed by influences vernal,

Rolls the pure and living stream as it rolled ere mortal gaze; And summer languors press it,

And autumn leaves caress it,

And winter with long wreaths of snow and feathery frost

arrays:

And all the free winds sweep it,

And all the Genii keep it,

Whose guardian presence o'er the land the secret heart may

know;

And Time and Nature ever

Breathe on the wizard river,

The interfusing charm that links To Day with Long Ago.

Mark, from their lonely dwelling

In Aran's shadow, welling,

Two rivulets emerge, but seek each other as they flow;
Like friends whose troths are plighted,

And hearts and lives united,

And kindling with exalted hope to meet the world who go!

Through fair Llyn Tegid gliding,
Unmingling, undividing,1

They pass, one current, self-assured, in self-reliance strong ;-
O brief but sweet existence

While in the rosy distance

Love fondly shapes a quiet course where no distractions throng!

And now such calm attaining,

No obstacle restraining,

Flows the stream beneath the willows, cool and crystalline and deep;

Awhile it bends to dally

In Edeyrnion's green valley,

And lave the lily blossoms that hang in mirrored sleep.

To Corwen soon advancing,
Behold it broadly glancing,

Baring its placid bosom to the genial summer sun;
So far in life's progression

Love's mutual fond possession,

And Fortune's all-prevailing hand, a golden course have won.

1 Assuming that the Dee passes through Bala Lake as the Rhone does through Lake Leman.

But now ungently falling,

Rude stony shapes enthralling,

It runs the race of passion and lifts the voice of pain;
Yet to endure is glorious,

And joy to rise victorious,

And sweet the hope of pressing through to tranquil hours

again.

And as those waters surely,

Beneficently, purely,

Move ever on their varied way from mountain unto sea;
Let the life of firm affection,

Resigned to Heaven's direction,

Be happy, and make happy, whate'er high Heaven decree!

But O, beloved river,
Forgive me that I ever

By emblem weak imputed aught of suffering or of wrong!No! all thy moods delight me,

Thine aspects all excite me,

Love-beauty-blessing flow with thee-joy triumphs in thy

song!

More rugged streams high gushing
From rock-walled tarns, and rushing

Smooth o'er the pine-clad precipice with deep and solemn sound;

Thence down the valley springing

Loud-murmuring, foam-flinging,

Have won my heart's communion, and my restless spirit

bound.

H

And not the gentle Clwyd

Rich with memory of Druid

And battle-field and fortress, hath a softer calm than thine; Though all the rest transcending

One starry name1 be blending

Its brightness with the woods and waves-meet Genius for such shrine!

No more the hues of slaughter
Profane thy crystal water—

Albeit with love and reverence paused and bowed the fiery ranks

No more the lurid flushing

of flames to heaven rushing,

That rose from altars reared upon thy oak-embowered banks.

For Peace and Truth most holy
Have trod the valley slowly,

And stilled the strife of races, and banished cruel creeds;
And in thy, breast, fair river,

The stars untroubled quiver,

And Quiet broods upon the hills, and Health frequents the meads.

Now loveliest colours blended

Glow o'er the sun descended

Where Llantisilio's pasture-glens reflect the ripening day;
But night through heaven flitting,
Comes, shade to shadow knitting,

And all the rosy-streaming bars melt momently to grey.

Felicia Hemans.