wept: for I said, Who can tell whether God will be gracious to me, that the child may live? "But now he is dead, wherefore should I fast? can I bring him back again? I shall go to him, but he shall not return to me."-2 Samuel, xii. 19-23. 10. -From that day, He trode serene life's onward way.-P 130. Something like the sentiment inculcated in this little poem is that contained in the following epitaph on a child, written by one of the early Christians;-it has been kindly pointed out to me by my erudite friend, Mr William Hay: "Parcite vos lachrymis, dulces cum conjuge natæ, THE BOWER OF PEACE. I. WHEN Hope's illusions all have waned, The time-taught spirit loves to wend And see the early larks ascend Up to the gates of day: While earth, outspread to childhood's glance, Glow'd like a dream of bright romance. II. 'Twas in the depth of dazzling May, When bland the air and blue the skies, Landscapes around my path unfurl'd, III. I listen'd to the blackbird's song, Borne on the bloom-enamour'd breeze : I listen'd to the birds that trill'd, Each in its turn, some witching note; Such was the summer feeling there, IV. The water-lilies in the waves Rear'd up their crowns all freshly green, And, bursting forth as from their graves, King-cups and daffodils were seen; The lambs were frisking in the mead; Beneath the white-flower'd chestnut tree The ox reclin'd his stately head, And bent his placid knee; From brakes the linnets carol'd loud, V. I stood upon a high green hill, |