y spell which Earth is round thee throwing, the crimson from a sunset sky;
but shadows, save a promise given,
hts the future with a fadeless ray;
the sceptre !-win a hope in heaven;
urn thy spirit from the world away!
the crosses of this brief existence
nothings to thine ardent soul;—
ng brightly in the forward distance,
y patient race appear the goal:
the weary !—where in peace reposing,
lingers in unclouded bliss,
o'er its dust the curtained grave is closing; uld not, early, choose a lot like this?
UPON the far-off mountain's brow
The angry storm has ceased to beat;
And broken clouds are gathering now
In sullen reverence round his feet;
I saw their dark and crowded bands
In thunder on his breast descending;
But there once more redeemed he stands,
And heaven's clear arch is o'er him bending.
I've seen him when the morning sun
Burned like a bale-fire on the height;
I've seen him when the day was done,
Bathed in the evening's crimson light.
I've seen him at the midnight hour,
When all the world were calmly sleeping,
Like some stern sentry in his tower,
His weary watch in silence keeping.
And there for ever firm and clear,
His lofty turret upward springs;
He owns no rival summit near,
No sovereign but the King of kings.
Thousands of nations have passed by,
Thousands of years unknown to story,
And still his aged walls on high
He rears, in melancholy glory.
The proudest works of human hands
Live but an age, before they fall;
While that severe and hoary tower
Outlasts the mightiest of them all.
And man himself, more frail by far,
Than even the works his hand is raising,
Sinks downwards like the falling star,—
That flashes, and expires in blazing.
To sleep with unremembered years. But still that ancient rampart stands Unchanged, though years are passin And time withdraws his powerless h While ages melt away before him.
So should it be for no heart beats
Within his cold and silent breast;
To him no gentle voice repeats
The soothing words that make us ble
And more than this-his deep repose
Is troubled by no thoughts of sorrow,
He hath no weary eyes to close,
No cause to hope or fear to-morrow.
Farewell! I go my distant way; Perchance in some succeeding years, The eyes that know no cloud to-day, May gaze upon thee dim with tears. Then may thy calm, unaltering form, Inspire in me the firm endeavourLike thee to meet each lowering storm Till life and sorrow end for ever.
HER suff'ring ended with the day,
Yet lived she at its close,
And breathed the long, long night away,
In statue-like repose.
But when the sun, in all his state,
Illum'd the eastern skies,
She passed through Glory's Morning-gate, And walked in Paradise!
ADIEU, the city's ceaseless hum,
The haunts of sensual life, adieu!
Green fields, and silent glens! we come,
To spend this bright spring-day with you.
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