TO A FRIEND IN AFFLICTION.
THE boasted joys of time, how swift they fly,
Rent from the heart, and hidden from the eye!
An hour they flourish, in an hour decay,
Bend to the earth, and fade, and pass away.
But we, frail beings! shrinking from the storm,
We love these skies which gathering clouds de-
form,
We lean too fondly on our house of clay,
Though every blast may sweep some prop away;
Yet wounded oft, as oft renew our toil,
To raise a fabric on this mould'ring soil,
And still we strive, forgetful of the grave,
To sink an anchor in the tossing wave.
But He, who marks us in our vain career,
Oft smites in pity what we hold most dear;
Spreads o'er the face belov'd the deathful gloom,
And hides a parent in the lonely tomb;
Makes the sad heart his strong correction feel,
Wounds to admonish, and afflicts to heal;
Reminds the spirit of her heavenly birth,
And breaks her strong alliance with the earth,
Warns her to seek for better climes, prepar'd,
To give the faithful soul a full reward.
There may we meet, dear friend, where pain shall cease,
Where grief shall end in joy, and care in peace,
Where no sweet hope in bitterness shall end,
No sad tear fall to mourn the buried friend;
No parting hour arrive, no hand divide
Those by eternity's strong bands allied;
No sin shall rise, no folly stain the soul,
But one unclouded year forever roll.
AWAKE! awake! the rosy light
Looks through the parted veil of night;
Awake! arise! short space hast thou
On earth, and much thou hast to do:
Another morn to thee is given,
Another gift from bounteous heaven
Is lent to thee, while many sleep
To wake no more on earth again;
Is sweet to thee, while many weep,
Deep sunk in grief, or torn with pain
Oh, spring to life! with joy renew'd,
And pour the strain of gratitude,
On bended knee, with holy fear,
With humble hope, with faith sincere.
Before the sun shall raise his head
To smile upon the blushing day,
Or from his chamber rush to lead
The young, and thin-rob'd dawn away.
Before the morn with tresses fair
Shall sail upon the waveless air,
Oh, let thy soul ascend as free,
Thy heart be tun'd to harmony,
And meekly to thy Maker bear,
The early vow, the early prayer,
Unstain'd with shades of earthly care.
Kneel like a suppliant at his feet,
Yet like a child address his throne, And let an hour so calm, so sweet,
Be sacred to thy God alone.
THE PHILOSOPHER'S REPROOF VERSIFIED.
"WHY weep'st thou, fair One ?" Ah! aruthless stroke,
"A painted vase, that much I loy'd has broke.” Another mourner, still the sage espied,
And why weep'st thou? My son! my son !" she cried.
Deep lost in thought, the man of wisdom mov'd, And thus his lips their utter'd grief reprov'd ; "How vain the tears that from those eye-lids stray,
"To wet the fragments of a vase of clay;
"And vain alike to mourn our mortal birth,
"Or hope a deathless date, for a frail child of earth."
THE evening moon was bright and fair,
The dews of Spring had chill'd the air;
And as I pac'd the gloomy shade,
The dark rock hanging o'er my head,
I thought a mournful spirit said,
And sad, my heart with echoing tone
Sigh'd back again the closing moan;
The hour, by fate's dark curtain hid,
Comes gliding on, the shades amid,
When I, to all I love must bid,
Ye, who have strove to lead my youth,
In ways of wisdom, ways of truth,
Have sooth'd my heart, or charm'd my ear,
Companions sacred, friends sincere,
Instructors, parents, guardians dear,
Ye scenes in nature's hues array'd,
The glowing dawn, the twilight shade,
The dews of morning, blaze of noon,
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