ODE AND DIRGE.

WRITTEN FOR THE CONSECRATION OF SPRING-GROVE CEMETERY NEAR CINCINNATI.

WHEN from the Garden of the Lord,
The parent of our race was driven,
Then bare he forth this solemn word,
The sentence of avenging Heaven :-
Of his offence the fruit—'twas said,

"In sweat and toil thou still shalt mourn,
Till, to that dust of which first made,
Thy kindred body shall return !”

Long ages since have passed away,
But that high mandate, spoken first
To Adam, in earth's primal day,
Yet stands-its fiat unreversed!

To all his race (exempt no part,)

The sentence stern doth still remain ;"From dust first made-of dust thou art,

And to it shalt thou turn again!"

ODE AND DIRG E.

And thus, to toil and suffering born,
Fulfils our race its destiny;
Still the primeval curse we mourn-
To live-to labour-and TO DIE!
Yet as, from Eden's peaceful shades,
Reluctant, wandered man first forth-

So longs he still, in Eden glades

To moulder back to native earth!

To use thus holy, dedicate,

We set apart this hallowed space-
This sacred spot now consecrate,
To us and ours a resting place:
And thus, upon this holy ground,
While near yon city rears its head,
Another city do we found-

A quiet "CITY OF THE DEAD!"

Not with the bustling noise and din,
With which our living homes we rear,

To-day are we assembled in

This sacred place, to feeling dear:

For is it not a hallowed spot

This place, where we shall ask to lie With those we love?-Oh! is it not The holiest spot beneath the sky!

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Here, where swells yon blue sky above,

And spreads this rich green sward beneath, We set apart, for those we love,

A fit abode in gentle death;

That not, as with the saddened gloom

Of cloistered cell and time-worn towers, We'd link the memories of the tombBut with the sunshine and the flowers!

Here gentle beauty shall they bring,
Whose resting place we thus prepare,
Where softest murmuring winds shall sing
Meet requiem o'er form so fair:

Here, too-when manhood's breast shall yearn
His wanderings o'er the earth to close-

His footsteps hither shall he turn,

To seek a last, sweet, calm repose!

Here shall the warrior calmly rest,

When mighty Death hath captive bound him, Whose step the earth once proudly press'd,

With all his marshall'd hosts around him:

And here the poet, whose high lays

Of noble deeds have sung the story,
Shall sleep, forgetful of the praise
That once was all his proudest glory!

Why should the memories of the dead

Be ever those of gloom and sadness?-
Why should their dwellings not be made
'Mid scenes of light, and life, and gladness?
Here let the young and gay repair,

And in this scene of light and beauty,
Gather from earth, and sky, and air,
Lessons of life, and love, and duty!

And here, at many a dewy morn,
Or calm and holy eventide,
Affection's quiet steps shall turn,

And o'er each loved form softly glide—
Whose gentle shade, still hovering near,
The trembling mourner may accost;

And from each leafy tree-top hear

The voices of "THE LOVED AND LOST!”

"EARTH to earth, and dust to dust!"-
Children we of mortal birth,

Of the earth created, must

Back return again to earth!

Rich or poor, or high or low,-
Learned or wise, it matters not;
To this end alike we go-

ALL must share the common lot!

“Earth to earth, and dust to dust!” Earth when those we love shall leave,

For their ashes-sacred trust!

Thus we consecrate the grave: O'er their forms we place the sodRear the sad sepulchral urn;

While their spirits, to the God

That bestowed them first, return!

"Earth to earth, and dust to dust!" As the solemn preacher saith, O'er the relics of the just

Lift we then the eye of Faith: From this narrow house below, To the mansions of the skies, Every form beloved, we know,

Shall to glorious life arise!