THE MARTYR STUDENT.

239

Of academic senates, and a nameThat Fame on her imperishable scrollShall deeply 'grave. O, there was one who heardHer fatal promptings—whom the Muses mournAnd Genius yet deplores ! In studious cellImmur'd, he trimm'd his solitary lamp,And morn, unmark'd, upon his pallid cheekOft flung her ray, ere yet the sunken eyeReluctant clos'd, and sleep around his couchStrew'd her despised poppies. Day with nightMingled—insensibly—and night with day;—In loveliest change the seasons came—and pass'd—Spring woke, and in her beautiful blue skyWander'd the lark—the merry birds beneathPour'd their sweet woodland poetry—the streamsSent up their eloquent voices—all was joyAnd in the breeze was life. Then Summer gemm'dThe sward with flowers, as thickly strewn as seemIn heaven the countless clustering stars. By dayThe grateful peasant pour'd his song,—by nightThe nightingale;—he heeded not the layDivine of earth or sky—the voice of streams—Sunshine and shadow—and the rich blue sky;—