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Thy peace shall mar, thy hopes destroy, -
Where fadeless flowers shall bloom

Through endless ages, pure and bright,
Triumphant o'er the tomb!

TO A DEAR YOUNG FRIEND, MRS. ******
JUNE 15th, 1842.

Come, dear one! let thy gentle voice
Revive the drooping head
Of one, whom anguish long hath bowed,
From whom e'en hope hath fled.

Dear one! I knew thee when a babe
In thy fond mother's arms,
I knew thee in the bloom of youth,
Decked in thy maiden charms;

I saw thee in thy day of power,
When lovers swell'd thy train!
When each, to grace thy maiden bower,
Culled blossoms from the plain! -

I saw thee when a beauteous bride,
In modesty arrayed;

Thy blushing cheek and downcast eye,
Thy happiness portrayed:

But when I saw thy graceful form,
In patient meekness, bend
Hour after hour, above the couch
Of thy young, suffering friend;

And when I saw thy tender hand
Bathing his fevered brow,
And heard thy strains of sympathy
In gentle accents flow;

When all a sister's tenderness
Was beaming in thine eyes,
Lighting the sufferer's faded face
With pleasure, and surprise;

Then, to my sad and mournful heart,
Thy loveliness surpassed
All that my fancy ever dreamed
In mortal mould was cast!-

Oh! come again, and let thy smile
Diffuse a transient glow
O'er the pale cheek, where fell disease
Hath stamped his impress now.

Come! and a mother's bursting heart
Shall throb with grateful joy,
Invoking blessings on her head
Who soothed her dying boy!

A PARTING ADDRESS

OF A MOTHER TO A YOUNG SON ON HIS FIRST LEAVING THE PARENTAL ROOF.

Farewell, my son! may angels guard
Thy unprotected youth!
May heaven-born virtue guide thy steps
In the fair path of truth.

Though tottering on the verge of life,
And racked with pain and care,
My own, my darling, much loved boy
My counsel still must share.

She who has watched thy cradle-bed,
And marked thy infant sports,
Through early childhood's winding maze,
And led thee to the courts,-

The earthly courts of Heaven's high King,
And taught thee there to bow
In reverence to his sacred name,
Cannot forget thee now!-

Remember, boy, thy mother's love,
Her precepts and her care,
And may her parting counsel prove
A beacon bright and fair.

Oh! thou wilt need a guide, my son,
A firm and faithful friend,
A mother's watchful eye no more
Thy footsteps may attend!-

Oh! shun the tempter who would strive

To lead thee from the truth; -
Be God thy trust! he will protect
And guide thy wayward youth.

ADDRESSED TO MY FRIEND MRS.

Why, dear one, dost thou stay? the summer rose
Has shed its blossoms, and the deep repose
Of cheerless winter hangs on all around!

No hum of bee,
Or insect free,

Or notes of woodland chorister resound

Throughout our groves! the cold, cold wintry day Is dark and sad, - why, dear one, dost thou stay?

Are there no scenes to memory dear,
No cherished loved ones lingering here,
To whom affection fondly clings?

Oh! come and cheer
The sadness here!

Linger no more. On friendship's wings,
Oh! come, and shed thy brightness on our day;
Joy on our hearts; why, dear one, dost thou stay?

Oh! come, and let thy radiant eye
Bid care and pain and sorrow fly.
I know within thy gentle breast
The thought of one
(Whose setting sun

Is sinking 'neath a cloud) doth rest;
Oh! come once more, and let the cheering ray
Of friendship shine on her-why, dear one, stay?

ON MY DAUGHTER MARGARET'S TENTH

BIRTH-DAY.

Awake, thou bright orb! in thy splendour arise,
Disperse every cloud in the pure azure skies;
Blow soft, ye rough winds, as ye sweep o'er the

plain,

And bring fragrance and verdure and bloom in your

train!

This day, be it sacred! Ye spirits of air!
Who guarded the couch of the infant so fair,
Ye sylphs, and ye sylphids, oh! hasten to earth
To welcome the morn of your votary's birth.

Ye muses, attend! let your presence inspire
The soul of your favourite with "poesy's fire;"
Entwine round her brow the sweet garlands of spring,
And in strains of soft melody teach her to sing.

Let virtue, and genius, and fancy unite
To awaken the harp of this being so bright;
Let the fire of devotion enliven the lay
Which her spirit shall breathe on her blest natal day!

IMPROMPTU,

AS THE THOUGHT OCCURRED OF GIVING THE NAME OF
MY SAINTED MARGARET TO THE CHILD OF A VERY
DEAR FRIEND.

Receive, sweet babe, an angel's name!
And with the high bequest

I would transmit the faultless mind
In all its graces drest.

Dear Margaret! - with that sacred name
Each blessing I'd bequeath;
Health, peace and innocence should form
For thee a fadeless wreath!

I would endow thee, favoured babe,
If but the power were mine,
With all that's noble and refined
To grace thy infant shrine.

The muses should inspire thy tongue
In seraph strains to sing,
And teach thy young, thy infant lyre
With melody to ring.

Genius should spread her soaring wings,

And clasp thee in their fold,
And on the golden scroll of fame

Thy name should be enrolled!

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