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Inhaling from the loathsome air,
Its light through vapors, damp, confined,
Of suffering human-kind!
Innocent teacher of the high
And holy mysteries of Heaven! How turned to thee each glazing eye, In mute and awful sympathy,
As thy low prayers were given ;
Who, turning from the world, as thou,
Had sealed her early vow;
Could be for thee a meet reward ;
Of living mortal heard, The joys prepared—the promised bliss above The holy presence of Eternal Love ! Sleep on in peace. The earth has not
A nobler name than thine shall be.
The deeds by martial manhood wrought,
The fire of poesy-
Yea, and when thrones shall crumble down,
And human pride and grandeur fall,-
Perishing glories all ?
pure devotion of thy generous heart Shall live in Heaven, of which it was a part
THE FROST SPIRIT.
He comes-he comes—the Frost Spirit comes i
You may trace his footsteps now On the naked woods and the blasted fields and the
brown hill's withered brow. He has smitten the leaves of the gray old trees
where their pleasant green came forth, And the winds, which follow wherever he goes,
have shaken them down to earth.
Le comes—he comes—the Frost Spirit comes !
from the frozen LabradorFrom the icy bridge of the Northern seas, which
the white bear wanders o'erWhere the fisherman's sail is stiff with ice, and
the luckless forms below In the sunless cold of the lingering night into
marble statues grow!
He comes- - he comes s—the Frost Spirit comes on
the rushing Northern blast,
And the dark Norwegian pines have bowed as his
fearful breath went past. With an unscorched wing he has hurried on, where
the fires of Hecla glow On the darkly beautiful sky above and the ancient
He comes—he comes—the Frost Spirit comes !
and the quiet lake shall feel The torpid touch of his glazing breath, and ring to
the skater's heel; And the streams which danced on the broken rocks,
or sang to the leaning grass, Shall bow again to their winter chain, and in
mournful silence pass.
He comes—he comes—the Frost Spirit comes!
let us meet him as we may, And turn with the light of the parlor-fire his evil
power away ; And gather closer the circle round, when that fire
light dances high, And laugh at the shriek of the baffled Fiend as his
sounding wing goes by !
THE VAUDOIS TEACHER. 38 “Oh, lady fair, these silks of mine are beautiful
and rareThe richest web of the Indian loom, which beauty's
queen might wear; And my pearls are pure as thy own fạir neck, with
whose radiant light they vie; I have brought them with me a weary way,— will
my gentle lady buy ? ”
And the lady smiled on the worn old man through
the dark and clustering curls, Which veiled her brow as she bent to view his silks
and glittering pearls; And she placed their price in the old man's hand,
and lightly turned away, But she paused at the wanderer's earnest call —
“My gentle lady, stay!”
Oh, lady fair, I have yet a gem which a purer
lustre flings, Than the diamond flash of the jewelled crown on
the lofty brow of kingsA wonderful pearl of exceeding price, whose virtue
shall not decay, Whose light shall be as a spell to thee and a bless
ing on thy way!” The lady glanced at the mirroring steel where her
form of grace was seen, Where her eye shone clear, and her dark locks
waved their clasping pearls between ;Bring forth thy pearl of exceeding worth, thou trav
eller gray and oldAnd name the price of thy precious gem, and my page
shall count thy gold. The cloud went off from the pilgrim's brow, as a
small and meagre book, Unchased with gold or gem of cost, from his folding
robe he took ! “ Here, lady fair, is the pearl of price, may it prove
as such to thee! Nay-keep thy gold-I ask it not, for the word of
God is free!”
The hoary traveller went his way, but the gift he
left behind Hath had its pure and perfect work on that highAnd she hath turned from the pride of sin to the
born maiden's mind,
lowliness of truth, And given her human heart to God in its beautiful
hour of youth!
And she hath left the gray old halls, where an evil faith had
power, The courtly knights of her father's train, and 'be
maidens of her bower; And she hath gone to the Vaudois vales by lordly
feet untrod, Where the poor and needy of earth are rich in the
perfect love of God!
THE CALL OF THE CHRISTIAN.
Not always as the whirlwind's rush
On Horeb's mount of fear,
To Midian's shepherd seer,
To Israel's prophet bards,
Nor gift of fearful words—
Of fire or voice from Heaven,
The call of God is given !
Love for the true and right-
Strength for the Christian's fight.
Nor unto manhood's heart alone
The holy influence steals :