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CONTENTMENT.

SWEET Contentment, power divine,
Lowly I bend before thy shrine,
And dedicate myself to thee,
For time and for eternity.

From thy calm and guileless way,
Never let my footsteps stray;
Take, oh take me to thy breast,
Sooth my troubled soul to rest.
Dwell'st thou only in the skies,
Far removed from mortal eyes,
Amid the blissful realms of light,
Diffusing blessings infinite?
Or dost thou, lovely seraph, deign,
Here on mortal ground to reign?
If thou dost, oh tell me then

Where dwell'st thou 'mid the sons of men?
Dost thou, enthroned in regal state,
On Glory's glittering pageant wait?
Or will the warrior own thy charms,
'Mid battle's rage and war's alarms?
Say, dost thou with ambition dwell,
Or in the hermit's sainted cell?
Art thou to wealth and pomp allied?
Is luxury ever at thy side?

Dost thou the rosy garland throw
O'er ruling pleasure's burning brow?
Join in the bacchanal's loud laugh,

And wine from brimming beakers quaff?
Angel, blessing, ever blessed,

Com'st thou the lonely student's guest,
His midnight vigils to beguile
With thy soft and soothing smile,

And when his eyes, too fiercely bright,

Beam with a wild, unearthly light,
And o'er his cheek false roses bloom,

Sad presage of an early tomb,

Dost thou then distance time's swift wing,

The future to the present bring,

And show to Learning's martyr'd son
The victories that his mind has won,
And bid him triumph in that praise
Which lives not till his frame decays,
All voiceless, while his listening ear
Would fain its thrilling accents hear,
But tuneful as the Syren's songs,
When all to gloomy death belongs?

I ceased: responsive to my prayer,
A voice came floating through the air,
Soft as the breeze that lulls to rest,
The billows round the halcyon's nest,
So blandly sweet, so heavenly mild,
Methought the very accents smiled:
List, mortal, list; a docile mind
In me a friend shall always find,
To keep it from the guilty ways
Of this bad world's deceitful maze.
In every scene of life I dwell,
In regal court or sainted cell;
I bless the peasant's homely fare,
And in the lordly banquet share;
The lowly thatch, the bannered hall-
I pour the balm of peace on all.
But neither peasant's homely fare,
Nor lordly banquet that I share,
Nor regal court, nor sainted cell,
One moment tempts me there to dwell,
If love of duty does not guide,
And over every deed preside;
For true contentment's only found

Where wisdom is with virtue crown'd-
Wisdom, your duty plain to show,
Virtue, to practice what you know.

RETIREMENT.

THE pleasures of retirement, whether real or imaginary, have always found admirers, and received the tribute of repeated praise. The philosopher and the hoary headed sage have never ceased to regard tranquillity as essential to happiness, and to esteem both as connected with some degree of seclusion. Confiding in the sentiments of philosophy and experience, and guided by their own desires, many, while immersed in the cares of active life, long for retirement, and on this center their summum bonum of human happiness. As they retreat for the first time from the hurry of business, and give themselves up to relaxation, the novelty of the change produces a transient pleasure, and they thence hastily conclude, that here may be experienced joys equal to those of social life, embittered by none of its sorrows. But as time passes on, and first impressions fade away, disappointment too often usurps the throne of happiness, and it is found that the fancied good is unsubstantial and momentary. Thus many, after a voluntary banishment from

society, have returned, again to pursue its pleasures and mingle in its follies. Yet solitude to numbers continues to afford pure enjoyment, and to open fountains of wisdom and instruction. These results at once lead us to investigate the causes which have formed such a diversity of opinions with respect to retirement, to learn its natural effect upon mankind, and to decide how far it may become a source of happiness. Does it have a tendency to render the heart more susceptible, and to strengthen the ties of friendship? does it cultivate the moral feelings, and give tone and vigor to the character? does it smooth the brow of care, and sweeten the cup of sorrow? or have all these been creations in the ideal world of the visionary, and the extravagant assertions of the enthusiast?

Who are those that complain of weariness in solitude, and forsake more tranquil pleasures for the mirth and hilarity of the crowded circle? Are they men of cultivated intellect, and energy of mind; men who have accustomed themselves to independence of thought and action? or are they not rather those deficient in both mental and moral qualities? Whatever may be the situation of man, his mind must be active, or his happiness is at an end. Fetter the movements of the body, allow the blood to stagnate which courses through the veins, and you cannot fail to weaken and undermine the system. Retard the operations of the mind, stay the current of thought which passes through the soul, and in like manner by this mental stagnation, you entwine wretchedness around your existence. The majority of men, when deprived of society, are deprived of their vigor of intellect, their activity of mind, their all save the sad consciousness of their loss; accustomed to be led by others, they have no power over themselves, no faculty of self-communion, no world within their own bosoms. Some follow with timid obsequiousness in the footsteps of the great. The opinions, the feelings, nay, almost the very thoughts of these men, are from a foreign mint. Others worship the goddess, Fashion. There are few whom her tyranny does not reach, her sceptre does not control. Her's is the shrine to which they bow, and the idol to which they pay their homage. They are busy, but accomplish nothing. Like butterflies, they flutter about with gilded wings, sporting in the sunbeams. But let all their vanities be swept away; let the objects of their pursuit vanish, their sunshine be exchanged for darkness, the gay circle in which they lately moved for seclusion, and happiness too has departed. Whither now, Solitude, have thy charms fled? The soul, left to retire within itself, finds a vacancy which it is unable to fill. The pleasures of solitude-it sickens at the thought. There is a thirst which it cannot quench, a panting after something which it cannot find. Conscious that within itself are implanted no seeds of happiness, it searches abroad, but society is gone, nor can a substitute be found.

There is another class by whom retirement is shunned, not so much from the paucity, as the multiplicity of thoughts which it occasions. In the lonely hour of night, and the unoccupied moments of the day, the guilty are assailed by conscience, with her ten thousand stings. For such to find relief is impossible, save when they attempt to drown these admonitions, by plunging deeper in the gulf of dissipation and vice. No wonder that they associate solitude with melancholy and gloom, and fear it as they would the king of terrors. The more cultivated the intellect, the greater the amount of wretchedness; the more enlightened the understanding, the keener the remorse. Thus deprivation of society is actual misery to multitudes. They form no habits of self-intercourse, are dependent on others for their action and consequent happiness, or are perhaps educated and refined, but those from whose breasts guilt has banished peace for

ever.

But we ought not thence to conclude, that solitude may never become profitable and attractive. The wise, who see the vanities of the world, and the virtuous, who weep over the degradation of man, love at times to withdraw, and become spectators instead of actors, in the great drama of human life. It is then alone that prejudices are dispelled, that ardor is guided by the counsels of wisdom, and the judgment regulated by the principles of philosophy. As the world is the theatre for action, so solitude is the place for preparation. It is there that the mind resorts to its own armory, and puts on a panoply of steel for the public contest. When in the midst of battle, the soldier does not stay to give polish or keenness to his sword: nor does the mind, in its more open strife with mind, learn the correct principles of action. Careful study in the closet, patient research in retirement, are necessary to success. Here habits of thought are cherished, the mind stands aloof from all external, places reliance on its own resources, and learns to enlarge its vision by healthy exercise. In solitude have been nurtured the most energetic and powerful minds that mankind ever saw. Here Demosthenes acquired that power of eloquence which enabled him to sway a nation, and bear down all before him with resistless might. Hence came forth a Newton and a Milton; the one to explore the mazes of science, and unlock the store-house of knowledge, the other to restore to earth her ancient muse, and inscribe his name high on the scroll of fame.

The effect is no less happy upon the moral feelings. Temptations are removed, or lose in a measure their influence over us. All party feeling is laid aside, and truth is disencumbered of the mists of prejudice. The attractive brilliancy of earthly pleasure and earthly happiness fades away. Life is felt to be a dream, as the being and destiny of man are deliberatively surveyed. The objects of existence are magnified to the view, and appear to outweigh the interests of time. Yet such themes for meditation are rendered sweet.

We

stand on an eminence, while the past, the present, and the future, lie extended before us. From the contemplation, we derive lessons of morality and excellence. We trace through his mad career him who tramples on all law, human and divine; we mark his exposure, his ignominy, and his fate. We follow the good man from infancy to age. We see him diffusing numberless blessings around him, rejoicing in the prosperity, and sympathizing with the woes of his fellow men. We gaze at the sunset of his life, as its last flickering ray expires. We behold him, who was before an inhabitant of this frail tenement of clay and chained down to earth, now enstamped with the image of purity and love; we view him soaring away, to drink deep at the fountain of perennial bliss. Bright visions and anticipations such as these, constitute many of the pleasures and benefits of solitude. Can the heart be otherwise than softened by this selfcommunion? can the moral feelings be improved, and care and sorrow not be displaced by this influence of virtue and religion in retirement?

However much then society may be desirable, for the benefits it brings, and the happiness it bestows, it is in solitude that the mind is regulated, the noble qualities of the nature awakened, and the man better fitted for the employments of active life. He who traverses the sands of the desert, when faint with fatigue, and oppressed by the scorching sun, is gladdened by the oasis which offers to him shelter and repose. So he, whom earth can never satisfy, rejoices in those intervals of solitude, which sooth his sorrows, and fill his soul with tranquillity and peace.

S.