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And all his soul best loved—such tears he shed,
So Scotia's 'Queen, as slowly dawned the day,
THE BETTER LAND. “ I HEAR thee speak of the better land; Thou callest its children a happy band : Mother; Oh! where is that radiant shore ? Shall we not seek it, and weep no more ? Is it where the flower of the orange blows, And the fire-flies glance through the myrtle boughs ?”
-"Not there, not there, my child !" “ Is it where the feathery palm-trees rise, And the date grows ripe under sunny skies ?Or midst the green islands of glittering seas, Where fragrant forests perfume the breeze, And strange bright birds, on their starry wings, Bear the rich hues of all glorious things ?" -"Not there, not there, my child !” “ Is it far away, in some region old, Where the rivers wander o'er sands of gold? Where the burning rays of the ruby shine, And the diamond lights up the secret mine, And the pearl gleams forth from the coral strandIs it there, sweet mother, that better land ?" -“ Not there, not there, my child !"
“ Eye hath not seen it, my gentle boy!
THE CRUCIFIXION. IMITATED FROM THE ITALIAN OF CRESCEMBINI, I asked the Heavens ;-~". What foe to God hath done
“This unexampled deed ?—The Heavens exclaim, " 'Twas Man; -and we in horror snatched the sun
“ From such a spectacle of guilt and shame."
I asked the Sea ;-the Sea in fury boiled,
And answered with his voice of storms,-"'Twas Man: “My waves in panic at his crime recoiled,
“ Disclosed the abyss, and from the centre ran.”
I asked the Earth ;—the Earth replied aghast, “ 'Twas Man ;-and such strange pangs my bosom
rent, “ That still I groan and shudder at the past.”
-To Man, gay, smiling, thoughtless Man, I went, And asked him next :-He turned a scornful eye, Shook bis proud head, and deigned me no reply.
A THOUGHT ON ETERNITY. Ere the foundations of the world were laid, Ere kindling light the Almighty word obeyed, Thou wert; and when the subterraneous flame Shall burst its prison, and devour this frame,
From angry Heaven when the keen lightning flies,
Ah! what is life ? with ills encompassed round,
The virtuous soul pursues a nobler aim, And life regards but as a fleeting dream: She longs to wake, and wishes to get free, To launch from earth into eternity. For while the boundless theme extends our thought, Ten thousand thousand rolling years are nought.
That only boasts a large estate,
Meet and conspire to make him great:
Let a broad stream with golden sands
Through all his meadow's roll,
That wears a narrow soul,
And proudly poising what he weighs,
Huge heaps of shining ore.
His manors and his farms,
He hugs between his arms.
When Cresus mounts his throne,
How long their shadows grown.
To think that shade their own!
Cræsus himself can never know;
Are far inferior to their show.
Or grasp the ocean with my span,
The mind's the standard of the man.
PLEASURES OF MEMORY. Sweet MEMORY! wafted by thy gentle gale, Oft up the stream of Time I turn my sail, To view the fairy-haunts of long-lost hours, Blest with far greener shades, far fresher flowers. When Joy's bright sun has shed his evening ray, And Hope's delusive meteors cease to play; When clouds on clouds the smiling prospect close, Still through the gloom thy star serenely glows : Like yon fair orb, she gilds the brow of night , With the mild magic of reflected light.
And who can tell the triumphs of the mind
Hail, MEMORY, hail ! in thy exhaustless mine
As all its lessening turrets bluely fade;
And busy fancy fondly lends her aid.