The ordinary chronicle of birth,
Office, alliance, and promotion-all
Ending in dust; of upright magistrates,
Grave doctors strenuous for the mother-
church,

And uncorrupted senators, alike

To king and people true. A brazen plate,
Not easily deciphered, told of one
Whose course of earthly honour was begun
In quality of page among the train

Of the eighth Henry, when he crossed the

seas

His royal state to show, and prove his strength

In tournament, upon the fields of France. Another tablet registered the death,

And praised the gallant bearing, of a Knight
Tried in the sea-fights of the second Charles.
Near this brave Knight his Father lay en-
tombed;

And, to the silent language giving voice,
I read,-how in his manhood's earlier day
He, 'mid the afflictions of intestine war
And rightful government subverted, found
One only solace—that he had espoused
A virtuous Lady tenderly beloved

For her benign perfections; and yet more
Endeared to him, for this, that, in her state
Of wedlock richly crowned with Heaven's

And pleasant awning. On the moss-grown wall

My ancient Friend and I together took
Our seats; and thus the Solitary spake,
Standing before us :--

"Did you note the mien Of that self-solaced, easy-hearted churl, Death's hireling, who scoops out his neighbour's grave,

Or wraps an old acquaintance up in clay, All unconcerned as he would bind a sheaf, Or plant a tree. And did you hear his voice?

I was abruptly summoned by the sound From some affecting images and thoughts, Which then were silent; but crave utter

We should recoil, stricken with sorrow and shame,

To see disclosed, by such dread proof, how ill

That which is done accords with what is known

To reason, and by conscience is enjoined; How idly, how perversely, life's whole

course,

To this conclusion, deviates from the line, Or of the end stops short, proposed to all At her aspiring outset.

Mark the babe

Not long accustomed to this breathing world;

One that hath barely learned to shape a smile,

Though yet irrational of soul, to grasp
With tiny finger-to let fall a tear;
And, as the heavy cloud of sleep dissolves,
To stretch his limbs, bemocking, as might

seem,

The outward functions of intelligent man;
A grave proficient in amusive feats
Of puppetry, that from the lap declare
His expectations, and announce his claims
To that inheritance which millions rue
That they were ever born to! In due time
A day of solemn ceremonial comes;
When they, who for this Minor hold in

trust

Rights that transcend the loftiest heritage
Of mere humanity, present their Charge,
For this occasion daintily adorned,
At the baptismal font. And when the pure
And consecrating element hath cleansed
The original stain, the child is there received
Into the second ark, Christ's church, with

trust

That he, from wrath redeemed, therein shall float

Over the billows of this troublesome world
To the fair land of everlasting life.
Corrupt affections, covetous desires,
Are all renounced; high as the thought of

man

Can carry virtue, virtue is professed;
A dedication made, a promise given
For due provision to control and guide,
And unremitting progress to ensure
In holiness and truth."

"You cannot blame," Here interposing fervently I said, "Rites which attest that Man by nature lies

Bedded for good and evil in a gulf Fearfully low; nor will your judgment scorn Those services, whereby attempt is made To lift the creature toward that eminence On which, now fallen, erewhile in majesty He stood; or if not so, whose top serene At least he feels 'tis given him to descry; Not without aspirations, evermore Returning, and injunctions from within Doubt to cast off and weariness; in trust That what the Soul perceives, if glory lost, May be, through pains and persevering hope,

Recovered; or, if hitherto unknown, Lies within reach, and one day shall be gained."

"I blame them not," he calmly answered

-"no;

The outward ritual and established forms With which communities of men invest These inward feelings, and the aspiring

VOWS

To which the lips give public utterance
Are both a natural process; and by me
Shall pass uncensured; though the issue
prove,

Bringing from age to age its own reproach, Incongruous, impotent, and blank. -But, oh !

If to be weak is to be wretched-miserable,
As the lost Angel by a human voice
Hath mournfully pronounced, then, in my
mind,

Far better not to move at all than move
By impulse sent from such illusive power,——
That finds and cannot fasten down; that

grasps

And is rejoiced, and loses while it grasps; That tempts, emboldens-for a time sustains,

And then betrays; accuses and inflicts
Remorseless punishment; and so retreads
The inevitable circle: better far
Than this, to graze the herb in thoughtless
peace,

By foresight or remembrance, undisturbed!

Philosophy! and thou more vaunted

name

Religion with thy statelier retinue, Faith, Hope, and Charity-from the visible world

Choose for your emblems whatsoe'er ye find

Of safest guidance or of firmest trust-
The torch, the star, the anchor; nor except
The cross itself, at whose unconscious feet
The generations of mankind have knelt
Ruefully seized, and shedding bitter tears,
And through that conflict seeking rest-of
you,

High-titled Powers, am I constrained to ask,

Here standing, with the unvoyageable sky
In faint reflection of infinitude
Stretched overhead, and at my pensive feet
A subterraneous magazine of bones,

In whose dark vaults my own shall soon be laid,

Where are your triumphs? your dominion where?

And in what age admitted and confirmed?
-Not for a happy land do I enquire,
Island or grove, that hides a blessed few
Who, with obedience willing and sincere,
To your serene authorities conform ;
But whom, I ask, of individual Souls,
Have ye withdrawn from passion's crooked
ways,

Inspired, and thoroughly fortified?—If the

Nature had framed them both, and both were marked

By circumstance, with intermixture fine
Of contrast and resemblance. To an oak
Hardy and grand, a weather-beaten oak,
Fresh in the strength and majesty of age,
One might be likened: flourishing appeared,
Though somewhat past the fulness of his
prime,

The other-like a stately sycamore,

That spreads, in gentle pomp, its honied shade.

A general greeting was exchanged; and

soon

The Pastor learned that his approach had given

A welcome interruption to discourse
Grave, and in truth too often sad.-"Is Man
A child of hope? Do generations press
On generations, without progress made?
Halts the individual, ere his hairs be grey,
Perforce? Are we a creature in whom good
Preponderates, or evil? Doth the will
Acknowledge reason's law? A living

power

Is virtue, or no better than a name,
Fleeting as health or beauty, and unsound?
So that the only substance which remains,
(For thus the tenor of complaint hath run)
Among so many shadows, are the pains
And penalties of miserable life,
Doomed to decay, and then expire in dust!
-Our cogitations, this way have been
drawn,

These are the points," the Wanderer said, "' on which

Our inquest turns. —Accord, good Sir! the light

Of your experience to dispel this gloom : By your persuasive wisdom shall the heart

Knowledge, for us, is difficult to gain-
Is difficult to gain, and hard to keep-
As virtue's self; like virtue is beset
With snares; tried, tempted, subject to
decay.

Love, admiration, fear, desire, and hate, Blind were we without these: through these alone

Are capable to notice or discern

Or to record; we judge, but cannot be Indifferent judges. 'Spite of proudest boast,

Reason, best reason, is to imperfect man An effort only, and a noble aim;

A crown, an attribute of sovereign power, Still to be courted-never to be won. -Look forth, or each man dive into himself;

What sees he but a creature too perturbed; That is transported to excess; that yearns, Regrets, or trembles, wrongly, or too much; Hopes rashly, in disgust as rash recoils; Battens on spleen, or moulders in despair? Thus comprehension fails, and truth is missed;

Thus darkness and delusion round our path

Spread, from disease, whose subtle injury lurks

Within the very faculty of sight.

Yet for the general purposes of faith
In Providence, for solace and support,
We may not doubt that who can best sub-
ject

The will to reason's law, can strictliest live
And act in that obedience, he shall gain
The clearest apprehension of those truths,
Which unassisted reason's utmost power
Is too infirm to reach. But, waiving this,
And our regards confining within bounds
Of less exalted consciousness, through
which

The very multitude are free to range,
We safely may affirm that human life
Is either fair and tempting, a soft scene
Grateful to sight, refreshing to the soul,
Or a forbidden tract of cheerless view;
Even as the same is looked at, or approached.
Thus, when in changeful April fields are
white

With new-fallen snow, if from the sullen

north

Your walk conduct you hither, ere the sun

Hath gained his noontide height, this churchyard, filled

With mounds transversely lying side by side

From east to west, before you will appear An unillumined, blank, and dreary plain, With more than wintry cheerlessness and gloom

Saddening the heart. Go forward, and look back;

Look, from the quarter whence the lord of light,

Of life, of love, and gladness doth dispense
His beams; which, unexcluded in their fall,
Upon the southern side of every grave
Have gently exercised a melting power;
Then will a vernal prospect greet your eye,
All fresh and beautiful, and green and
bright,

Hopeful and cheerful :—vanished is the pall
That overspread and chilled the sacred turf,
Vanished or hidden; and the whole domain,
To some, too lightly minded, might appear
A meadow carpet for the dancing hours.
-This contrast, not unsuitable to life,
Is to that other state more apposite,
Death and its two-fold aspect! wintry-