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A thousand years are like a day,
When fled ;-no longer known than geen;
This Tree was doom'd to pass away,
And be, as if it ne'er had been ;-

But mournful COWPER, wandering nigh, For rest beneath its shadow came, When lo ! the voice of days gone by Ascended from its hollow frame.

O that the Poet had reveal'd

The words of those prophetic strains,
Ere Death the eternal mystery seal'd!

-Yet in his song the Oak remains.

And fresh in undecaying prime,
There may it live, beyond the power
Of storm and earthquake, Man and Time,
Till Nature's conflagration-hour.


Written for a Society, whose Motto was


WHEN“ Friendship, Love, and Truth" abound

Among a band of BROTHERS, The cup of joy goes gaily round,

Each shares the bliss of others :
Sweet roses grace the thorny way

Along this vale of sorrow:
The flowers that shed their leaves to-day

Shall bloom again to-morrow :
How grand in age, how fair in youth,
Are holy “ FRIENDSHIP, Love, and TRUTH !"

On halcyon wings our moments pass,

Life's cruel cares beguiling;

Old Time lays down his scythe and glass,

In gay good humour smiling : With ermine beard and forelock

grey, His reverend front adorning, He looks like Winter turn’d to May,

Night soften'd into morning ! How grand in age, how fair in youth, Are holy “ FRIENDSHIP, LOVE, and TRUTH !".

From these delightful fountains flow

Ambrosial rills of pleasure :
Can man desire, can Heaven bestow,

A more resplendent treasure ?
Adorn'd with gems so richly bright,

We'll form a Constellation,
Where every Star, with modest light,

Shall gild his proper station.
How grand in age, how fair in youth,
Are holy “ FRIENDSHIP, LOVE, and TRUTH !"




THROUGH shades and solitudes profound

The fainting traveller winds his way; Bewildering meteors glare around,

And tempt his wandering feet astray.

Welcome, thrice welcome, to his

eye, The sudden moon's inspiring light, When forth she sallies through the sky,

The guardian angel of the night!

Thus mortals, blind and weak, below

Pursue the phantom Bliss, in vain ; The world's a wilderness of woe,

And life a pilgrimage of pain !


Till mild RELIGION, from above,

Descends, a sweet engaging form, The messenger of heavenly love,

The bow of promise in a storm!

Then guilty passions wing their flight,

Sorrow, remorse, affliction cease ; Religion's yoke is soft and light,

And all her paths are paths of peace.

Ambition, pride, revenge depart,

And folly flies her chastening rod; She makes the humble contrite heart

A temple of the living God.

Beyond the narrow vale of time,

Where bright celestial ages roll, To scenes eternal, scenes sublime,

She points the way, and leads the soul.

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