Nor only o'er the dial's face, This silent phantom, day by day, With slow, unseen, unceasing pace, Steals moments, months, and years away; From hoary rock and aged tree, From proud Palmyra's mouldering walls, From Teneriffe, towering o'er the sea, From every blade of grass it falls. For still, where'er a shadow sweeps, The scythe of Time destroys. And man at every footstep weeps O'er evanescent joys; Like flow'rets glittering with the dews of morn His scythe, a trophy, o'er my tomb, O'er the wide earth's illumined space, Though time's triumphant flight be shown, The truest index on its face Points from the churchyard stone. A MOTHER'S LOVE. A MOTHER'S love,-how sweet the name! What is a mother's love? -A noble, pure, and tender flame, Enkindled from above, To bless a heart of earthly mould; To bring a helpless babe to light, In its existence lose her own, And live and breathe in it alone; This is a mother's love. Its weakness in her arms to bear; To cherish on her breast, Feed it from love's own fountain there, And lull it there to rest; Then while it slumbers watch its breath, To mark its growth from day to day, Catch from its eye the earliest ray Of intellectual fire; To smile and listen while it talks, And can a mother's love grow cold? Ten thousand voices answer, "No!" The infant, rear'd alone for earth, A parent's heart may prove a snare; Even with a mother's love. Blest infant whom his mother taught And pour'd upon his dawning thought Behold that mother's love." Blest mother! who, in wisdom's path, Thus taught her son to flee the wrath, Ah! youth, like him enjoy your prime, Taught by that mother's love. That mother's love!-how sweet the name! -The noblest, purest, tenderest flame, Within a heart of earthly mould, As much of heaven as heart can hold, This was that mother's love. THE GLOW-WORM. The male of this insect is said to be a fly, which the female caterpillar attracts in the night by the lustre of her train. WHEN evening closes nature's eye, The glow-worm lights her little spark, To captivate her favourite fly, And tempt the rover through the dark. Conducted by a sweeter star Than all that deck the fields above, He fondly hastens from afar, To soothe her solitude with love. Thus in this wilderness of tears, Amidst the world's perplexing gloom, The transient torch of Hymen cheers The pilgrim journeying to the tomb. Unhappy he whose hopeless eye Turns to the light of love in vain ; 2 Tim. i. 5, and iii. 14, 15. THE OAK. IMITATED FROM THE ITALIAN OF METASTASIO. THE tall oak, towering to the skies, O'erwhelm'd at length upon the plain, THE WIDOW AND THE FATHERLESS. Though I have seen thy form depart I hold thee in mine inmost heart; There, there at least thou canst not die. Farewell on earth: Heaven claim'd its own; Ha! those small voices, silver sweet! Fresh from the fields my babes appear; They fill my arms, they clasp my feet: --"O! could your father see us here!" THE BIBLE. WHAT is the world?—A wildering maze, All broad, and winding, and aslope, Millions of pilgrims throng those roads, Down to eternal night: -One humble path, that never bends, Is there a guide to show that path? The Bible, need not stray: THE DAISY IN INDIA. Supposed to be addressed by the Rev. Dr. Carey, the learned and illustrious Baptist missionary at Serampore, to the first plant of this kind, which sprang up unexpectedly in his garden, out of some English earth, in which other seeds had been conveyed to him from this country. With great care and nursing, the doctor has been enabled to perpetuate the daisy in India, as an annual only, raised by seed preserved from season to season. HUMAN LIFE. Job xiv. How few and evil are thy days, Trouble and peril haunt thy ways: And dost Thou look on such a one? A worm, for what a worm hath done As fail the waters from the deep, Man lieth down in dreamless sleep; Man lieth down, no more to wake, -O! hide me, till thy wrath be past, Hide me, where hope may anchor fast In my Redeemer's grave. THRICE Welcome, little English flower! Thrice welcome, little English flower! Shut close their leaves while vapours lower; Thrice welcome, little English flower, Thrice welcome, little English flower! The fairy sports of infancy, Youth's golden age, and manhood's prime, Thrice welcome, little English flower! Thrice welcome, little English flower! Wine, oil, refreshment; he was heal'd; In prison I saw him next, condemn'd Then in a moment to my view gave him all; he bless'd it, brake, And ate, but gave me part again; Mine was an angel's portion then, For while I fed with eager haste, That crust was manna to my taste. I spied him, where a fountain burst Clear from the rock; his strength was gone; I ran to raise the sufferer up; Thrice from the stream he drain'd my cup, Dipt, and return'd it running o'er; I drank, and never thirsted more. 'Twas night; the floods were out; it blew A winter hurricane aloof; I heard his voice abroad, and flew To bid him welcome to my roof; I warm'd, I clothed, I cheer'd my guest, Stript, wounded, beaten, nigh to death, I roused his pulse, brought back his breath, VIA CRUCIS, VIA LUCIS. NIGHT turns to day : When sullen darkness lowers, And heaven and earth are hid from sight Cheer up, cheer up! Ere long the opening flowers, With dewy eyes, shall shine in light. Storms die in calms: When over land and ocean Roll the loud chariots of the wind, Cheer up, cheer up! The voice of wild commotion Winter wakes spring: When icy blasts are blowing O'er frozen lakes, through naked trees All beautiful and glowing, May floats in fragrance on the breeze. War ends in peace: Though dread artillery rattle, And ghastly corpses load the ground, Where groan'd the field of battle, The song, the dance, the feast go round. Toil brings repose :— With noontide fervours beating, When droop thy temples o'er thy breast, Gray twilight, cool and fleeting, Wafts on its wing the hour of rest. Death springs to life: Though brief and sad thy story, Thy years all spent in care and gloom, Eternity and glory Dawn through the portals of the tomb THE AGES OF MAN. YOUTH, fond youth! to thee in life's gay morning, Conquers all things; all things yield to love. Time, swift time, from years their motion stealing, Age, old age, in sickness, pain, and sorrow, Then how longs the weary soul for thee, ASPIRATIONS OF YOUTH. HIGHER, higher will we climb That our names may live through time In our country's story: Deeper, deeper let us toil In the mines of knowledge- Onward, onward will we press Let us make a heaven of earth. Close and closer then we knit O they wander wide, who roam Nearer, dearer bands of love THE FALLING LEAF. WERE I a trembling leaf, I should be loath to fall Beside the common way, Weltering in mire, and spurn'd by all, Till trodden down to clay. Nor would I choose to die All on a bed of grass, Where thousands of my kindred lie, Nor would I like to spread My thin and wither'd face In hortus siccus, pale and dead, A mummy of my race. No, on the wings of air I know not and I heed not where, A waif of earth and sky! Or flung upon the stream, As through the changes of a dream, Who that hath ever been, Could bear to be no more? Yet who would tread again the scene On, with intense desire, It seems to die, yet like Heaven's fire, THE ADVENTURE OF A STAR. ADDRESSED TO A YOUNG LADY. A STAR Would be a flower; So down from heaven it came, And in a honeysuckle bower Lit up its little flame. There on a bank, beneath the shade, It overlook'd the garden ground, -A landscape stretching ten yards round; O what a change of place From gazing through eternity of space! Gay plants on every side And many an insect on the wing, Flew round and round in endless glee, Now all the flowers were up, and drest Glittering with birth-night splendour, rose ; And polyanthuses display'd The brilliance of their gold brocade : Till their loved nightingale, who tarried long, Was sweeter, in the blast of death, Than all the lavish fragrance of the thyme. Amidst this gorgeous train, Our truant star shone forth in vain; Than the light-spangle in a drop of dew. For aught I know, Or aught indeed that they can show; Stars, like themselves, in spite of fate, shall shine. Now, to return (for we have wander❜d far) Save from the hand of lady fair, Pluck'd one and then another, From its elastic stalk; Happy, no doubt, for one sharp pang, to die Thus all day long that star's hard lot, At length the sun went down, and then Its faded glory came again, dreams. Our star, in melancholy state, The star, now wiser for its folly, knew One hint the humble bard may send To shine in her own character! O may she be content to grace, On earth, in heaven, her proper place! MAKE WAY FOR LIBERTY. On the exploit of Arnold Winkelried at the battle of Sempach, in which the Swiss, fighting for their independ ence, totally defeated the Austrians, in the fourteenth century. "MAKE way for liberty !"-he cried; In arms the Austrian phalanx stood, A rampart all assaults to bear, Till time to dust their frames should wear; Opposed to these a hovering band Peasants, whose new-found strength had broke * See Tasso's Jerusalem Delivered, canto xviii, |