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The silent tear, the deep-fetch'd sigh,
Which virtue heaves in hours of quiet,
Are dearer than pomp's revelry,
Or the mad laugh of frenzied riot;
Smiles from a conscience purified,
Far lovelier than the fleeting glory
Conferr'd in all a monarch's pride,
Embalm'd in all the light of story.

This joy be ours-our weeks shall roll-
And let them roll-our bark is driv'n
Safe to its barbour-and our soul
Awaking, shall awake in heaven.



"Day came, and went"-a lovelier never dawn'd
Since that fair morn which saw the infant world,
Sparkling with dew drops from her maker's hand.
From bower to bower, the voice of song was heard,
And the gay minstrels floating through the air,
Bore up to heaven's gate the voice of praise:
The day went calmly on-and when the eve,
Drest in her dusky garb approach'd the east,
And look'd in solemn silence o'er the scene,
Earth seem'd to say, rejoice, rejoice oh! man,
For the rich store that hails the evening breeze,
And waves luxuriant o'er the ripening plain,
Shall hail the autumnal sweetness of the year:
But autumn ne'er will come :-The setting sun
Sees from her golden throne the end of days;
And the bright glow along the verge of heaven,
Which many an eye beholds, so full of hope!

So bright with promise of a coming day:
But such a day how few anticipate :-
Th' eternal morning of unchanging years.
O'er heaven and earth, a solemn silence reigns,
And midst her brilliant galaxy of stars,

The moon the queen of night portentous shines,
With red and awful glare: and from the north,
A vivid light, wax'd broad and broader still-
And flash'd upon the sky; like that once seen
For many a night above Jerus'lem's towers,
And round Judea's land. As it was then-
And in the days of Lot; so is it now,
Men disregard the signs of God's approach,
Foretold by prophets, and which long before
Was told in signs and wonders in the sky :
And on this night the last that e'er should reign,
Nature seem'd conscious of some awful change:
Yet even now the voice of mirth, the song,
The dance, all these went merry as before:
Crimes still went on, and wicked deeds were done
Before high heaven; nor were men wiser grown,
Tho' every moment as it hasten'd on,

Was trembling in its speed; and tottering time,
Who level'd all before, was now grown old;
Upon his face the symptoms of decay,

Show'd that his dying hour was nigh at hand :-
He tried, but tried in vain to gain those heights,
Where oft careering on the viewless winds,
His airy flight had been; but there the breath
Of the approaching morn was felt around.
The conscious earth, warn'd of the change in him
Who measured out its moments, days, and years;
Quak'd to its centre; and now trembling groan'd
In horrible suspense; the fires within,

Which oft in days of old burst wildly forth

From Etna, Strombli, and a hundred hills;
Were issuing now to light the funeral pile,
On nature's dread but all-consuming day;
Yet man! vain man, the creature of an hour;
A worm of dust, a speck in nature's works,
Who bears within, a principle of life,

Which will outlive the awful coming storm,
Nor perish 'midst the wreck of thousand worlds,
Is quite at ease, and thinks his bark secure ;
For it had stood for many ages past,

Nor seem'd more frail then when its course began
But 'midst his airy dreams of days to come,
And while the thoughtless unsuspecting smile,
Was playing on his cheek: oh! heavens,
A giant form came sailing o'er the sky,
So bright, so radiant, that the rising sun
Grew pale and hid at once his cheering ray;
And from the trumpet's dread astounding voice,
A sound was heard, which smote on every ear,
Proclaiming loud, and louder through the sky;
"That time shall be no more." Earth trembling

The roaring deep grew silent at the voice;
And the dark grave where silence reign'd before,
Began to stir with life; time now was dead,
And 'midst the general blaze of nature's works,-
The bright descending throne of God the Judge-
The shout of triumph-and the hopeless wail,
All that had liv'd from Adam to that hour,
Were thronging in the air from every clime,
o meet the Son sole arbiter of all,
oming in clouds of glory from the sky,
With his bright angels and the voice of praise.


How beautiful is morn!

When daylight, newly born,

From the bright portals of the east is breaking;
While songs of joy resound

From countless warblers round,

To light and life from silent slumber waking.

The parting clouds unfold

Their edges ting'd with gold;
Bright is the summit of the lofty mountain;
The glist'ning tops of trees,

Touch'd by the rustling breeze,

Are bright and tuneful as the muses' fountain.

As upward mounts the sun,
The valleys, one by one,

Ope their recesses to the living splendour;
The mighty ocean's breast

Heaves upward to the blest,

And bids its waves reflected light surrender.

Each humble flower lifts up

Its dewy bell or cup,

Smiling through tears that know no tinge of sad

The insect tribes come out,

And, fluttering all about,


Fill the fresh air with gentle sounds of gladness.

Oh! who can witness this,

Nor feel the throb of bliss

With which creation's ev'ry pulse seems beating! Or who, 'mid such a store

Of rapture flowing o'er,

The tribute of the heart forbear repeating?

Yet have I known an hour

Of more subduing power

Than this of beauty glowing-music gushing:
An hour whose quiet calm
Diffus'd an holier balm,

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Whose watch-word-" Peace, be still!" the inmost heart was hushing.

It is the close of day,

When evening's hues array

The western sky in all their radiant lustre :
When round the setting sun,

His goal of glory won,
Resplendent clouds in silent beauty muster.

'Tis when day's parting light,
Dazzling no more the sight,

Its chastening glory to the eye is granting,
That "thoughts too deep for tears,"
Unearthly hopes and fears,

And voiceless feelings in the heart are panting.

While thus the western sky
Delights the gazing eye,

With thrilling beauty, touching and endearing ;—
What still of earth is fair

Borrows its beauty there,

Though every borrow'd charm is disappearing.

Ere yet those charms grow dim,

Creation's vesper hymn,

Grateful and lovely, is from earth ascending; 'Till, with that song of praise,

The hearts or those who gaze

With solemn feelings of delight are blending.

Then from those portals bright

A farewell gleam of light

Breaks with unearthly glory on the vision;

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