XXVII.

AN EVENING WALK BY THE SEA-SIDE.

'Tis pleasant to wander along on the sand,

Beneath the high cliff that is hollow'd in caves ; When the fisher has put off his boat from the land, And the prawn-catcher wades through the short rippling waves.

Bright gleam the white sails in the slant rays of

even,

And stud as with silver the broad level main, While glowing clouds float on the fair face of

heaven,

And the mirror-like water reflects them again.

How various the shades of marine vegetation, Thrown here the rough flints and the pebbles

among,

The feather'd conferva of deepest carnation,

And the dark purple slake and the olive seathong!

While Flora herself unreluctantly mingles

Her garlands with those that the Nereids have

worn,

For the yellow-horn'd poppy springs up on the shingles,

And convolvulus rivals the rays of the morn.

But now to retire from the rock we have warning, Already the water encircles our seat;

And slowly the tide of the evening returning,

The moon-beams reflect in the waves at our

feet.

Ah! whether as now the mild summer sea flowing, Scarce wrinkles the sand as it murmurs

shore,

on

Or fierce wintry whirlwinds impetuously blowing, Bid high madd'ning surges resistlessly roar;

That power which can put the wide waters in motion,

Then bid the vast billows repose at his word, Fills the mind with deep rev'rence, while earth,

air, and ocean,

Alike of the universe speak him the Lord!

XXVIII.

THE HEART'S-EASE.

THERE is a little flower that's found
In almost every garden ground,

'Tis lowly, but 'tis sweet:

And if its name express its

A more invaluable flower

power,

You'll never, never meet.

No-not the wealth of Chili's mine,
Dear flow'ret, may compare with thine,
For thee I'd give it all;

But if the wealthy will not bear

Thy modest charms in their parterre,
Grow 'neath my garden-wall.

I said in every garden ground-
Perhaps in Eden 'twas not found,

For there it was not wanted;

But soon as sin and sorrow came,
Thy flower received its gladdening name,
By Mercy's angel planted.

He took its azure from the sky:
It is the hue of constancy,

And constant should our faith be;
With that he mingled splendid gold,
To show that, if our faith we hold,
We shall be crown'd with glory.

Mary-if God within our bower
Should plant this lovely little flower,
To tend it be our duty;

Then should there be a smile or tear,
So it be mutual, it will rear
And maturate its beauty.

XXIX.

A DOMESTIC SCENE.

'Twas early day--and sunlight stream'd Soft through a quiet room,

That hush'd, but not forsaken, seem'dStill, but with nought of gloom:

For there, secure in happy age,
Whose hope is from above,
A father communed with the page

Of Heaven's recorded love.

Pure fell the beam, and meekly bright,

On his grey holy hair,

And touch'd the book with tenderest light,
As if its shrine were there.
But oh! that patriarch's aspect shone
With something lovelier far-

A radiance all the Spirit's own,
Caught not from sun or star.

Some word of life e'en then had met
His calm, benignant eye;

Some ancient promise, breathing yet

Of immortality;

Some heart's deep language, where the glow

Of quenchless faith survives;

For every feature said—" I know

That my Redeemer lives."