THE DEATH OF THE BEAUTIFUL.

"After life's fitful fever they sleep well."

So fade earth's loveliest flowers, and die! While those less fair still greet the sight; So flits athwart the evening sky,

The brilliant meteor's transient light— Which for a moment meets our gaze, Then leaves us but the stars' pale rays!

As the pellucid drop of dew,

From Heaven distilled, is by the sun Borne back again to Heaven's own blue, While earthly streams still onward run

Are Angels called to seek their kind,
While souls less pure are left behind!

E'en as the fierce and talon'd bird

Of prey, that soars the woods above, Scorning the common chattering herd, Lights on the meek and peaceful dove,— Does Death, stern tyrant, for his food Select the gentle and the good!

I had a young friend once:—a girl
Scarce "sweet sixteen"—of grace so rare
She would have charmed the veriest churl,
She was so delicately fair

Of face and form!-To these she joined
The fairer beauties of the mind!

She was a being all too kind,

Too good and gentle for this earth;
She was, as some bless'd angel-mind,
To other worlds that owed its birth,
A mortal tenement were given ;
But half of earth, the rest of Heaven!

Oh God! I deemed that one so fair,
So young, so lovely, could not die!
I thought not ever Death would dare
On such as her to cast his eye!
But, gazing on a Seraph here,

Forgot that this was not her sphere!

She died :-Consumption for its prey

Had marked her fair and fragile form; She faded, drooped, and pass'd away,

In all her loveliness and charm, To her last slumber, lone and deep, Gently as infant sinks to sleep!

Yet as the gem, which once in earth
Lay all unnoticed and unknown-
Thence taken, shines in priceless worth,
The brightest jewel of the throne,——
Hath that pure angel-spirit gone
To sparkle on th' ETERNAL CROWN!

THUS WOULD I DIE.

"I would give out my being amid flowers, and the sight of meadowy fields, and the chant of birds. Death, at such a time, and in such a place, would be almost a reward for life."

COLERIDGE.

I WOULD not die 'mid the bustle and din
Of the noisy and haunted retreats of Sin;
I would not die 'mongst the heartless crowd
Of the worldly and cold—of the rich and proud;
Oh! not where the outcasts of earth resort,—
Where Vice and Misery hold their court,-
Where the sun dimly shines, and the murky air
Is tainted with sorrow, and sin, and care,—
Not there would I die!

I would not die 'mid the revel and song

Of the city, where Pleasure's gay votaries throng; Not there!-not there, where the thousands resideI would not die where so many have died!

And I would not-I would not be buried there,
Where the sun cannot shine upon nature fair;
And where, at morn and eve is not heard
For matin and vesper, the carol of bird—

Not there would I die!

But oh! might I choose, my being I'd yield
In sight of the waving, meadowy field;

I would die in the bloom of the beautiful spring,
When the earth is just clad in her blossoming!
Oh! leaving then this cold world of ours,
Calmly I'd rest 'neath the wild-wood flowers;
And where, on each tree-top's leafy limb,
Sweet birds might carol my requiem,—

Oh! there would I die!

I would die in the free and open air,
With nature around me all fresh and fair;

Where the song of the wild-bird, high and clear,

Might sweetly fall on my closing ear!

And oh! I would utter my latest hours

'Mid the perfume sweet of the fragrant flowers;

The earth my pillow-the clear blue sky

Last object to meet my closing eye,—

Oh! THUS Would I die!