VERSES To THE MEMORY OP RICHARD REYNOLDS. 2BE

Eternity and Time

Met for a moment here;
From earth to heaven, a scale sublime
Rested ou either sphere,
Whose steps a saintly figure trod,
By Death's cold hand led home to God.

He landed in our view,

'Midst flaming hosts above;
Whose ranks stood silent, while he drew
Nigh to the throne of love,
And meekly took the lowest seat,
Yet nearest his Redeemer's feet.

Thrill'd with ecstatic awe,

Entranced our spirits fell,
And saw—yet wist not what they saw,
And heard—no tongue can tell
What sounds the ear of rapture caught,
What glory flll'd the eye of thought.

Thus far above the pole,

On wings of mountain fire,
Faith may pursue the enfranchised sool.
But soon her pinions tire,
It is not given to mortal man
Eternal mysteries to scan.

Behold the bed of death;

This pale and lovely clay;
Heard ye the sob of parting breath? •
Mark'd ye the eye's last ray?
No; life so sweetly ceased to be,
It lapsed in immortality.

Could tears revive the dead,

Rivers should swell our eyes:
Could sighs recall the spirit fled,
We would not quench our sighs
Till love relumed this alter'd mien,
And all the embodied soul were seen!

THE MEMORY OF THE JOST.

Strike a louder, loftier lyre;

Bolder, sweeter strains employ; Wake, Remembrance !—and inspire

Sorrow with the song of joy.

Who was he, for whom our tears
Flow'd, and will not cease to flow?

Full of honours and of years,
In the dust his head lies low.

Yet resurgent from the dust,
Springs aloft his mighty name;

For the memory of the just
Lives in everlasting fame.

He was one whose open face
Did his inmost heart reveal;

One who wore with meekest grace,
On his forehead, Heaven's broad sea!

Kindness all his looks express'd,

Charity was every word;
Him the eye beheld and bless'd,

And the ear rejoiced that heard.

Like a patriarchal sage,

Holy, humble, courteous, mild, lie could blend the awe of age

With the sweetness of a child.

VERSES TO THE MEMORY OF RICHARD REYNOLDS. 257

As a cedar of the Lord,

On the height of Lebanon,
Shade and shelter doth afford,

From the tempest and the sun:—

While in green luxuriant prime,
Fragrant airs its boughs diffuse,

From its locks it shakes sublime,
O'er the hills, the morning dews :—

Thus he flourish'd, tall and strong,

Glorious in perennial health;
Thus he scatter'd, late and long,

All his plenitude of-wealth !—

Wealth which prodigals had deem'd
Worth the soul's uncounted cost;

Wealth, which misers had esteem'd
Cheap, though heaven itself were lost.

This, with free, unsparing hand,

To the poorest child of need,
This he threw around the land,

Like the sower's precious seed.

In the world's great harvest-day,

Every grain on every ground,
Stony, thorny, by the way,

Shall an hundredfold be found.

Yet, like noon's refulgent blaze,
Though he shone from east to west,

Far withdrawn from public gaze,
Secret goodness pleased him best.

As the sun retired from sight,
Through the purple eveniug gleams.

Or, unrisen, clothes the night
In the morning's golden beams;