on the wings of the cherubim to the throne of glory, Poetry has ever been a principal. medium for communicating instruction to the mind, and captivating the affections of the heart. The truth of this remark is well illustrated by the use which all know has been made of it by the poets of the ancients, to instruct in the various arts and sciences, as well as to incite to deeds of heroism, and to lives of virtue."

The representation of this doctrine by the Poets will be useful, and we believe welcome, to our readers. In following this subject among the poets, we arrange their ideas under three heads-as argumentative-as containing incidental allusions to this subject—and as consolatory.

SECTION I.

ARGUMENTATIVE POETRY.

I.

In the first piece we introduce, the reader will find a number of forcible arguments, beautifully connected, and happily expressed. They are so much the more striking to us, because they are placed in such fair contrast with the opposing error.

RECOGNITION IN HEAVEN.

Some tell us all earthly love must die,
Nor enter the heavenly land;
That friendship is lost above the sky,

'Midst the happy and joyous band.

And can it be so? On that blissful shore

Shall we meet the loved we have lost no more?

They tell us, that those unseen on earth

Shall be dear as an only child;

And the mother beloved, who gave us birth,
Shall be met as the savage wild!

And can it be so in that land of love?
Are there no joys of reunion above?

They tell us the pastor, who taught us the way
To the blessed abode of the just,
Shall know us no more in eternity's day,

Tho' the body's redeem'd from the dust.

And can it be so, in that world of bliss?
Shall we love less there than we do in this?

They tell us the martyr who fell on the shore,
'Mid the war-cry, and horror untold,
Shall meet his loved flock with joy no more
Than the merchant who traffics for gold.

And will it be so, in that golden street

Where Williams, and all he held dear, shall meet?

Then where is the pastor's “crown of joy,"
And where the reward of the saint's employ?
And why do we cherish this restless love,
If all will be lost or forgotten above?
Oh! can it be thus, in that blissful place,
Where we see the redeem'd ones face to face?

II.

HEAVENLY RECOGNITION.

Oft weeping memory sits alone,

Beside some grave at even:

And calls upon some spirit flown,
Oh! say, shall those on earth our own,
Be ours again-in heaven?

Amid these lone sepulchral shades,
Where sleep our dear ones riven,

Is not some lingering spirit near,

To tell if those divided here,

Unite and know-in heaven?

Shall friends, who o'er the waste of life,
By the same storms are driven-
Shall they recount, in realms of bliss,

The fortunes and the tears of this,

And love again-in heaven?

When hearts, which have on earth been one,

By ruthless death are riven,

Why does the one which death has reft,

Drag off in grief the one that's left,

If not to meet-in heaven?

The warmest love on earth is still

Imperfect when 'tis given;

But there's a purer clime above,
Where perfect hearts in perfect love
Unite: and this-is heaven.

If love on earth is but "in part,"
As light and shade at even-
If sin doth plant a thorn between
The truest hearts-there is, I ween,
A perfect love-in heaven.

Oh, happy world! Oh, glorious place!
Where all who are forgiven,

Shall find their loved and lost below,

And hearts, like meeting streams, shall flow
For ever one-in heaven.

III.

The middle verse of the preceding poem embodies the idea, that sometimes grief for the dead has the effect of drawing the bereaved one after the one that has departed. That poem was written before the author had contemplated a volume on this subject; and also before he had seen the remarkable incident upon which the following beautiful and affecting verses are founded. This instance, as well as others which might be produced, shows that the idea above referred to is no fancy. It certainly shows a strength of affection which it is hard to consider mortal. It is, indeed, only a verification of the scripture declaration: "Love is strong as death." Songs viii. 6.

AN INDIAN MOTHER'S LOVE.

OS-HE-OUH-MAI, the wife of Little Wolf, one of the Iowa Indians, died, while at Paris, of an affection of the lungs, brought on by grief for the death of her young child in London. Her husband was unremitting in his endeavours to console and restore her to the love of life; but she constantly replied "No! no! my four children recall me. I see them by the side of the Great Spirit. They stretch out their arms to me, and are astonished that I do not join them."

No! no! I must depart

From earth's pleasant scenes, for they but wake
Those thrilling memories of the lost which shake
The life-sands from my heart.

Why do ye bid me stay?

Should the rose linger when the young buds die,
Or the tree flourish when the branches lie
Stricken by sad decay?

Doth not the parent dove,

When her young nurslings leave their lowly home,
And soar, on joyous wings, to heaven's blue dome,
Fly the deserted grove?

Why, then, should I remain?

Have I not seen my sweet-voiced warblers soar
So far away, that Love's fond wiles no more
May lure them back again?

They cannot come to me;

But I may go to them: and, as the flower
Awaits the dewy eve, I wait the hour

That sets my spirit free.