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She told us that she soon should die, And bade us love each other well.

REAL MOURNERS.

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CRABBE.

YES! there are real mourners- I have seen
A fair, sad girl, mild, suffering, and serene;
Attention, through the day, her duties
claimed,

And to be useful as resigned she aimed:
Neatly she drest, nor vainly seem'd to expect
Pity for grief, or pardon for neglect ;
But when her wearied parents sank to sleep,
She sought her place to meditate and weep:
Then to her mind was all the past displayed,
That faithful Memory brings to Sorrow's aid:
For then she thought on one regretted youth,
Her tender trust, and his unquestion'd truth.
In every place she wandered where they'd
been,

And sadly-sacred held the parting scene; Where last for sea he took his leave-that place

With double interest would she nightly trace: For long the courtship was, and he would say, Each time he sailed-" This once and then

the day :"

Yet prudence tarried; but when last he went, He drew from pitying love a full consent.

Happy he sailed, and great the care she took,

That he should softly sleep, and smartly look; White was his better linen, and his check Was made more trim than any on the deck; And every comfort men at sea can know, Was hers to buy, to make, and to bestow: For he to Greenland sailed, and much she told,

How he should guard against the climate's cold

Yet saw not danger; dangers he'd withstood, Nor could she trace the fever in his blood: His messmates smiled at flushings in hi cheek,

And he too smiled, but seldom would he speak;

For now he felt the danger, felt the pain, With grievous symptoms he could not ex

plain :

Hope was awakened as for home he sailed, And quickly sank, and never more prevailed.

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And tricks his beams, and with new-spangled | Hearts in that time closed o'er the trace

ore

Flames in the forehead of the morning sky; So Lycidas sank low, but mounted high, Through the dear might of him that walk'd the waves,

Where other groves and other streams along,

With nectar pure his oozy locks he laves,

And hears the unexpressive nuptial song: In the blest kingdoms meek of joy and love. There entertain him all the saints above,

In solemn troops, and sweet societies, That sing, and singing in their glory move, And wipe the tears for ever from his eyes.

HE NEVER SMILED AGAIN.

MRS. HEMANS.

Prince William, son of King Henry the First, was drowned at sea. His father was never afterwards seen to smile.

THE bark that held a prince went down,
The sweeping waves roll'd on;
And what was England's glorious crown
To him that wept a son?

He liv'd-for life may long be borne
Ere sorrow break its chain!

Why comes not death to those who mourn?
He never smil'd again!

There stood proud forms around his throne, The stately and the brave;

But which could fill the place of one,

That one beneath the wave?
Before him pass'd the young and fair
In pleasure's reckless train;

But seas dash'd o'er his son's bright hair,
He never smil'd again!

He sat where festal bowls went round,
He heard the minstrel sing;
He saw the tournay's victor crown'd
Amidst the knightly ring.

A murmur of the restless deep

Seemed blent with every strain,

A voice of winds that would not sleepHe never smil'd again!

Of vows once fondly poured,
And strangers took the kinsman's place,
At many a joyous board.

Graves which true love had wash'd with tears
Were left to heaven's bright rain;
Fresh hopes were born for other years-
He never smil'd again!

FADING FLOWERS.

C. WESLEY.

THE morning flowers display their sweets,
And gay their silken leaves unfold,
As careless of the noontide heats,
As fearless of the evening cold.

Nipt by the wind's untimely blast,
Parch'd by the sun's directer ray,
The momentary glories waste,
The short-liv'd beauties die away.

So blooms the human face divine, When youth its pride of beauty shows; Fairer than spring the colours shine, And sweeter than the virgin rose.

Or worn by slowly rolling years,
Or broke by sickness in a day,
The fading glory disappears,
The short-liv'd beauties die away.

Yet these new-rising from the tomb,
With lustre brighter far shall shine,
Revive with ever-during bloom,
Safe from diseases and decline.

Let sickness blast, let death devour, If heaven but recompense our pains! Perish the grass, and fade the flower, If firm the word of God remains !

TO A DECEASED HUSBAND.

BARBAULD.

PURE spirit! O where art thou now O whisper to my soul!

O let some soothing thought of thee, This bitter grief control.

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