THE LIFE OF MAN. [MRS. ANN GILBERT.] ALONG the dim valley, aslant from the mountain, tain, Or mark the low casement in hamlet remote; And sweet is the music the cool zephyr swelling, The lark's latest vesper, the sheep-bell afar, The bee's homeward hum to his bark-covered dwelling, Or shepherd's lone song to the earliest star. The whisper of brooks, over smooth pebbles creeping, The flock winding slowly along to the fold; The moon's yellow beam on the placid hill sleeping, Now splendid no longer with crimson and gold;Then throbs the young stranger to life, and to sorrow, Enjoyment's fine thrill to each feeling convey'd; All hope, he bounds onward to welcome the morrow, And pluck its wild roses ere yet they can fade. But, plucked its wild roses,-to-morrow departed, And life's purple blossoms surmounted with snow, No longer the fine thrill of pleasure is darted, Alert through the current, now check'd in its flow: Still glitters the sun-beam aslant from the fountain, On late dying breezes float harmonies sweet; With Nature's wild music the sky-lark is mounting, And bees homeward hum to their woodland retreat. But man, changing man, is forsaking his dwelling, The eye, once enchanted, is weary and dim; No more the fond bosom with rapture is swelling, And Nature breathes vainly redundant for him; Amid the gay scene, with infirmity bending, His thin silver tresses to summer winds wave, And the flower that in years vanished long, he was tending, Prepares to expand her next bloom on his grave. The willow whence oft the lithe twig he would sever In life's idle morn, o'er his dwelling shall weep; The nightingale's song, that delighted him ever, Flow liquid, nor wake his unchangeable sleep; The sun's early beam, or in glory declining, Around his green grave shall its brilliancy pour, And Time's busy children exult in its shining, But this wither'd nerve plays responsive no more. Brief story "Tis this, that when Life's golden bowl shall be broken, Thy star, Immortality, breaks on the sky! TO PATIENCE. UNAW'D by threats, unmov'd by force, Say you, who search with curious eyes, "Tis Patience-Lenient Goddess, hail! Through all the various turns of fate, 'Twas Patience-Temperate Goddess, stay! For still thy dictates I obey, Nor yield to passion's power; When robb'd of what I held most dear, What, when mute sorrow chain'd my tongue, Forbade the tide to swell? "Twas Patience-Goddess ever calm, Oh! pour into my breast thy balm, That antidote to pain! Which, flowing from thy nectar'd urn, Our losses into gain. When sick and languishing in bed, 'Twas Patience-Heaven-descended maid! Implor'd, fled swiftly to my aid; And lent her fost❜ring breast; Say, when dissever'd from his side, What could my fears control? 'Twas Patience-Gentle Goddess, hear! Be ever to thy suppliant near, Nor let one murmur rise; Since still some mighty joys are given, THE MESSIAH. [POPE.] YE nymphs of Solyma! begin the song: Delight no more-O Thou, my voice inspire, Peace o'er the world her olive wand extend, the day; |