William Julius Mickle

The death-bell thrice was heard to ring, An aerial voice was heard to call, And thrice the raven flapp'd its wing Around the towers of Cumnor Hall.

And ere the dawn of day appear'd, In Cumnor Hall, so lone and drear, Full many a piercing scream was heard, And many a cry of mortal fear.

The dews of summer night did fall; The moon, sweet regent of the sky, Silvered the walls of Cumnor Hall And many an oak that grew thereby.

to give a poem that might live in the English language

None but a poet can translate a poet.

The present moment is our ain, The neist we never saw!

Sae true's his words, sae smooth's his speech, His breath like caller air, His very foot has music in't As he comes up the stairs: And will I see his face again! And will I hear him speak!

For there's nae luck about the house, There's nae luck at a'; There's little pleasure in the house When our gudeman's awa'.

But are ye sure the news is true— And are ye sure he's weel? Is this a time to think o' wark?— Ye jades, fling by your wheel!

When nature's happiest touch could add no more, Heaven lent an angel's beauty to her face.

There, where the cross in hoary ruin nods, And weeping yews o'ershade the lettered stones, While midnight silence wraps these dark abodes, And soothes me wand'ring o'er my kindred bones, Let kindled fancy view the glorious morn, When from …

Dull as a twice-told tale.

Knowledge or wealth to few are given, But mark how just the ways of Heaven: True joy to all is free. Nor wealth nor knowledge grant the boon: 'Tis thine, O conscience, thine alone, It all belongs to thee.

My father joy'd to show the pleasant road, That leads thro' nature, up to nature's God. While others teach their sons the love of gold, He to my opening judgment would unfold The classic page.—My mother would inspire And fan the sallies of …

The best of parents blest my younger days; What others teach with frowns, they taught with praise.