Where now Romance's rich attire,
In which the universe was drest,
As Evening, like a city on fire,

Burn'd down along the West,
Leaving the enchanted eastern sky
To the round moon's calm argentry?

XVI.

Alas! with care we sow the wind,
To reap the whirlwind for our pains;
On the dark day of need to find

Each proffer'd ransom Time disdains :
All that was once our idle boast,
Weigh'd in the balance dust shall be ;
Death knocks-frail man gives up the ghost-
He dies-and where is he?

Vanish'd for ever and forgot,

The place that knew him knows him not!

XVII.

Ho! wanderer, ho!-eschew the wrong,
To reason turn, from error cease;
And list the words of wisdom's tongue,

The still small tongue that whispers peace :
Withhold the heart from worldly strife—
Do good-love mercy-evil fly;

And know that, from this dream call'd life,
We wake but when we die ;-

Unto the eager to be pure

The path is straight-the palm is sure!

XVIII.

For ne'er hath prodigal come round,
Subdued in heart and craving grace,
Whate'er his faults, who hath not found
Forgiveness in the Saviour's face;

At contrite hearts he will not scoff-
Whoever knocks, an entrance wins :
Then let us at the Cross throw off
The burden of our sins;

And though their dye be black as night,
His blood can make-has made them white!

WEEP NOT FOR HER.

A DIRGE.

I.

WEEP not for her!-Oh! she was far too fair, Too pure to dwell on this guilt-tainted earth!

The sinless glory, and the golden air

Of Zion, seem'd to claim her from her birth: A spirit wander'd from its native zone, Which, soon discovering, took her for its own: Weep not for her!

II.

Weep not for her!-Her span was like the sky, Whose thousand stars shine beautiful and bright; Like flowers that know not what it is to die;

Like long-link'd shadeless months of Polar light; Like music floating o'er a waveless lake,

While Echo answers from the flowery brake :
Weep not for her!

III.

Weep not for her!-She died in early youth,
Ere hope had lost its rich romantic hues;
When human bosoms seem'd the homes of truth,

And earth still gleam'd with beauty's radiant dews; Her summer-prime waned not to days that freeze; Her wine of life was run not to the lees:

Weep not for her!

IV.

Weep not for her!-By fleet or slow decay,
It never grieved her bosom's core to mark
The playmates of her childhood wane away,
Her prospects wither, or her hopes grow dark ;
Translated by her God, with spirit shriven,

She pass'd as 'twere in smiles from earth to Heaven:
Weep not for her!

V.

Weep not for her!—It was not hers to feel

The miseries that corrode amassing years, 'Gainst dreams of baffled bliss the heart to steel, To wander sad down Age's vale of tears; As whirl the wither'd leaves from Friendship's tree, And on earth's wintry world alone to be : Weep not for her!

VI.

Weep not for her!-She is an angel now,
And treads the sapphire floors of Paradise;
All darkness wiped from her refulgent brow,
Sin, sorrow, suffering, banish'd from her eyes;
Victorious over death, to her appear
The vista'd joys of Heaven's eternal year:
Weep not for her!

VII.

Weep not for her!-Her memory is the shrine

Of pleasant thoughts, soft as the scent of flowers;

Calm as on windless eve the sun's decline;

Sweet as the song of birds among the bowers;

Rich as a rainbow with its hues of light;

Pure as the moonshine of an autumn night:
Weep not for her!

VIII.

Weep not for her!—There is no cause for woe;
But rather nerve the spirit, that it walk
Unshrinking o'er the thorny paths below,

And from earth's low defilements keep thee back: So, when a few fleet severing years have flown, She'll meet thee at Heaven's gate-and lead thee on! Weep not for her!

THE FOWLER.

And is there care in Heaven? and is there love
In heavenly spirits to these creatures base,
That may compassion of their evils move?
There is else much more wretched were the case
Of men than beasts. But 0! the exceeding grace
Of highest God, that loves his creatures so,

And all his works with mercy doth embrace,
That blessed angels he sends to and fro,

To serve on wicked man-to serve his wicked foe!

SPENSER.

I.

I HAVE an old remembrance-'tis as old
As childhood's visions, and 'tis mingled with
Dim thoughts and scenes grotesque, by fantasy
From out oblivion's twilight conjured up,
Ere truth had shorn imagination's beams,
Or to forlorn reality tamed down