LIGHT FOR ALL.

At safety's risk, that iron hand,
And from its terrors rid the land.
Behold he sleeps!-the veriest child
Might sport beside that ruffian wild,
So still, so fixed, so moveless now,
The marble of that fearful brow.
No passion stirs his fluttering breath,
He sleeps the long cold sleep of death.
He sleeps; but who the tale shall tell
Of that lone robber's last farewell?
When earth, and sky, and sea, and air,
And all they held of rich or fair;
When all his greedy hand had gained,
And all his hold would have retained,
Were passing swiftly, surely by,
And fading from his drooping eye;
While nought but horror, guilt, and gloom
Remained beside his opening tomb.
Yes: then, even then, that holy book,
With trembling hand the robber took,
And such the lessons learned in youth,
And such the force of heavenly truth,
That while condemned the page he read,
Some hope of mercy o'er it shed

A ray more bright than earth could yield;
And feeling, all too long concealed,
Burst forth, o'ermastered by his fate.
But, hark that call-"One moment wait."
He drops the book-it is too late!

LIGHT FOR ALL

From the German.

You cannot pay with money
The million sons of toil-
The sailor on the ocean,
The peasant on the soil,
The labourer in the quarry,
The hewer of the coal;
Your money pays the hand,
But it cannot pay the soul.

LIGHT FOR ALL.

You gaze on the cathedral,
Whose turrets meet the sky;
Remember the foundations

That in earth and darkness lie:
For, were not those foundations
So darkly resting there,
Yon towers up could never soar
So proudly in the air.

The workshop must be crowded
That the palace may be bright:
If the ploughman did not plough,
Then the poet could not write.
Then let every toil be hallowed
That man performs for man,
And have its share of honour
As part of one great plan.

See light darts down from heaven,
And enters where it may ;
The eyes of all earth's people

Are cheered with one bright day;
And let the mind's true sunshine
Be spread o'er earth as free,
And fill the souls of men

As the waters fill the sea.

The man who turns the soil

Need not have an earthly mind;

The digger 'mid the coal

Need not be in spirit blind: The mind can shed a light

On each worthy labour done, As lowliest things are bright In the radiance of the sun.

What cheers the musing student,
The poet, the divine,-

The thought that for his followers
A brighter day will shine,

Let every human labourer

Enjoy the vision bright

Let the thought that comes from heaven
Be spread like heaven's own light!

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STANZAS.

Ye men who hold the pen,
Rise like a band inspired,
And, poets, let your lyrics
With hope for man be fired;
Till the earth becomes a temple,
And every human heart
Shall join in one great service,
Each happy in his part.

STANZAS.

No courtly halls for me!
I sigh not for their pomp and state,
Their midnight scenes, their revels late
Of thoughtless gaiety;

My heart would feel oppressed,

And I should mourn while others smiled,
By visionary joys beguiled,

And flatterers caressed.

But where billows are dashing
In the sunny light flashing,
Where wild flowers are blushing,

And mountain streams rushing

There, and there only, is my heart's wild bound
Free as the air, while Nature smiles around.

And yet! I would not dwell

A discontented denizen

In this fair world, apart from men,
Like monk in cloistered cell;

Who, by a life of idle ease,

Must seek in vain his God to please.
Be mine the happiness
(So exquisite !) of being blest,
And blessing others. I'd not rest
In useless idleness;

But meekly, lowlily, would shed
A pure, bright influence, while I tread

The straight and rugged path my Saviour trod;
The only path that leads to heaven and God!

TO MYSELF.

Is solitude a burden to thy soul?

Hear what to great Pythagoras, of old, Where through deep vales Peneus' waters roll, By Echo and the Nightingale was told.

"Wherefore, O Nightingale !" the sage demands, (For he the varied language understands

Of bird and beast, and e'en of wave and wind),

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Wherefore, O Songstress, dost thou love to find
Thy sunless shelter 'mid secluded dales,

Scattering thy melodies on desert gales,
And the deaf woods unheard by human kind ?"
From the low thicket by the water's edge
The halycon flitting from the trembling sedge,
'I sing to heaven," the Nightingale replied;
The wise man smote upon his breast and sighed.

Long was the pause, the gliding stream was heard,
Wind in the leaves, the notes of that lone bird!
Sudden, a parting fragment of that rock
Down the steep side, bounding and crashing fell,
Awakening Echo, slumbering in her cell,
Whose startling voice reverberates the shock.
"Why, thus," the sage inquired, "O Echo, tell,
Lovest thou in secret cave alone to dwell ?"
"Alone to dwell!" the aërial height replied;
Then, dimly visioned on the mountain side,
Where the tall cliffs in hoary grandeur tower,
The nymph's reclining form apparent grew ;
In moss of many hues these lines she drew-
"The voice of heaven in solitude I hear,
Whether in distant thunder on mine ear.
Or in the winds of eve that whisper near;

In lonely silence comes that voice most clear,

And I can best repeat the sounds to me most dear.”

The sage departs, instructed, humbled, thence,

And calls admiring grace to reverence,

The sacred truth his mystic lays impart,

"Silence and solitude," he cries, " shall discipline the heart.'

LOVE AND FRIENDSHIP.

WHEN Love and Friendship both were young,
In frolic mood one day;

They strove by argument to prove

Who bore the widest sway.

"My empire," Love, exulting, cried,
"O'er all mankind extends,"

"And mine!" said Friendship, "oft begins,

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Where yours in coldness ends.

Thy transient reign, like youth's gay charms,
Decays with beauty's flower,

Whilst my consoling influence soothes

The mourner's darkest hour.

"Then, urchin! know Love's power is vain,
Unless with Friendship joined;

Thy chains the senses may enslave-
Mine the immortal mind."

IN IMITATION OF SHAKESPERE'S SONNETS.

I SAW a maid let fall a tender tear,

Which, as it travelled down her virgin cheek,
Did better tell me of her bosom's care,

Than all the language which her tongue could speak.
And as she smiled, and in her cheeks she wore,
Two dimples, such as Venus' self might own,
Where Cupid nestling with his golden store,
Quick as I gazed, an arrow had let flown;
I felt its smart, and straightway did devise,
That love, from smiles, not tears, doth take its rise.

THE GAME OF LIFE.

THIS life is but a game of cards, which mortals have to learn,
Each shuffles, cuts, and deals the pack, and each a trump doth turn;
Some bring a high card to the top and others bring a low,

Some hold a hand quite flush of trumps, while others none can show.