THE REMAINS OF H. K. WHITE.

O pause, and wake the lyre, and sweep
The dirge that speaks its saddest gloom,
O'er Feeling, Science, Genius weep,
For, Stranger, this is Henry's tomb!

67

ON A MEETING OF THE BIBLE SOCIETY.

THOU Book of God! thou art that holy dove,
That o'er the world from England's ark dost spring,
And now, while journeying on thy flight of love,
Dost here repose, awhile, thy weary wing.
O! ever thus these peaceful tokens bring,

That, to her home, the patriarch's herald bore;
Then, on thy last long journey wandering,

O'er the wide earth on stronger pinions soar,

Till Sin's last floods be sunk, and thou return no more!

ODE TO SICKNESS.

HENCE, rude intemperate Health!

Thy noise affrights me, and thy shouts distress, I envy not thy boasted wealth

Of joyous spirits and robust excess.

But, gentle Sickness, welcome thou!

Nymph of the faded form and hectic brow,
In languid tones, and numbers faint,

I welcome thee, meek suff'ring saint!

For I, from childhood's earliest hour,
Have own'd, soft nurse, thy chastening power,

And round my brow the hectics twine

That surely mark the vot'ry thine!

But come not in those terrors drest That haunt the midnight Suff 'rer's rest, When wild before his sleepless eyes Delirious dreams of madness rise.

But, come! as thou so oft art seen

In pensive guise, but look serene,

Thine arms uplift to heaven in prayer, Thy pale eye fix'd devoutly there! While one sad tear, devout and meek, Just stains the paleness of thy cheek, And speaks the feeling of a mind, Serene, and tranquil, and resign'd.

And when, meek angel of the tomb!
Thou bring'st the summons of my doom,
O! come to these expectant eyes,
With gentle step, in seraph guise,

And duly round my couch of pain
Assemble all Affection's train!
Let Friendship wait attendant near,
Let Pity pour her holiest tear,

Let Hope still upward lift her eye,
And Resignation breathe her sigh!

And let Religion's awful voice

Bid fainting heart and strength rejoice,
And every holiest power prevail,
To cheer the pilgrim through the vale!
And, oh, let Love my couch prepare,
Whate'er beside is wanting there.

O, be there at my lowly bed, One hand to cheer my aching head, One eye to watch my startled sleep, One faithful breast whereon to weep! One seraph voice, whose simple tone May sooth Affliction's wildest moan! One tongue to breathe of future bliss, One lip my burning brow to kiss, One aching heart, one weeping eye, To see me struggle, faint, and die! One mourner, o'er my lowly tomb, To weep, sincerely weep, my doom! Let such thy blest companions be, And, Sickness, I will dwell with thee!