Nor only o'er the dial's face, This silent phantom, day by day, From proud Palmyra's mouldering walls, For still where'er a shadow sweeps, O'er evanescent joys; Life's flowerets glittering with the dews of morn, Fair for a moment, then for ever shorn ; Ah soon beneath the inevitable blow, O'er the wide earth's illumined space, Though time's triumphant flight be shown,- Points from the churchyard stone. MONTGOMERY. O more! NO MORE. A harp string's deep and breaking tone, Breathe through those words-those murmurs of farewell-— To dwell in peace, with home affections bound, No more! To feel the spirit of her love around, No more! A dirge-like sound! To greet the early friend No more! Through woods that shadowed our first years to rove To watch the sunset with the eyes we love, And turn, and read our own heart's answer there- Words of despair!-yet earth's, all earth's the woe Their passion breathes the desolately deep That sound in heaven-oh! image then the flow Of gladness in its tones-to part, to weep To watch, in dying hope, affection's wane, To wear impatiently a secret chain, No more! To waste the untold riches of the heart No more! Through long, long years to seek, to strive, to yearn, No more! On things that fail us, reed by reed, to lean, To mourn the changed, the far away, the dead; To send our troubled spirits, through the unseen, Intensely questioning for treasures fled No more! Words of triumphant music! Bear me on No more! MRS. HEMANS "NOT NOW." AINTER her slow step falls from day to day— Death's hand is heavy on her darkening brow, Yet doth she fondly cling to earth, and say— I am content to die; but oh, not now! Not while the blossoms of the joyous spring Make the warm air such luxury to breatheNot while the birds such lays of gladness sing— Not while bright flowers around my footsteps wreathe Spare me, great God! lift up my drooping brow, I am content to die; but oh, not now! The spring hath ripened into summer-time; The glorious sun hath reached his burning prime: With silent steps, the lord of light moves on; Summer is gone, and autumn's sober hues Tint the ripe fruits, and gild the waving corn; The huntsman swift the flying game pursues, Shouts the halloo, and winds his eager horn: Spare me awhile, to wander forth and gaze On the broad meadows and the quiet stream To watch in silence, while the evening rays Slant through the fading trees with ruddy gleam. Cooler the breezes play around my brow: I am content to die; but oh, not now! The bleak winds whistle-snow-showers, far and near My little brothers round the warm hearth crowd; The spring is come again,-the joyful spring: The child of earth is numbered with the dead! "Thee never more the sunshine shall awake, Beaming all redly through the lattice pane; ANON. THE EVE OF THE DESTRUCTION OF (UT dust upon your heads, lament and weep, And utter all your minstrelsy of woe! Go to, ye wicked, weep and howl; for all That God hath written against you is at hand. The cry of violence hath reached his ear, Hell is prepared, and Justice whets his sword. Weep all of every name! Begin the woe, Long, loud, deep, piercing, dolorous, immense! Of late debauch; then rose, and shone again, Brighter than wont; and sickened again and paused In zenith altitude, as one fatigued; And shed a feeble twilight ray at noon, Rousing the wolf before his time to chase The shepherd and his sheep, that sought for light, Then out of course rolled furious down the west, Ribbed with the native hues of heavenly love, |