Grief, care, and poverty may haunt
His pathway, strewing many a thorn;—
Fashion's neglect, cold folly's taunt,
The worldling`s scorn,—

May be his portion;-slow disease

May undermine his outward frame; And Calumny, more dread than these, May blight his fame:—

But let him still, with fortitude,

See that his footsteps onward tend; And strive, with faith and hope endued, To wait THE END!

The threat'ning clouds which darkly lower,
As if to veil his soul in night,
May prove how impotent their power
To quench its light.

At times that light's reviving ray

Shall lend him, even here below,
Glory for gloom, turn night to day,
Give joy for woe.

And in a brighter world than this
What here inspir'd his holiest lays,
May tune his harp to songs of bliss,
And endless praise.

Bard! Prophet! Priest! go on in hope;
Gird up thy loins, thy sorrows bear;
Meekly with present trials cope;
Watch unto prayer!

It is a thorny path to trace;

Yet other feet its thorns have trod; Then bear thee up, and humbly place Thy trust in God!

FLOWERS.

He who delights to trace, with serious thought,

In all he sees the noiseless steps of TIME, Shall find the outward forms of Nature

fraught With ample food for many a lofty rhyme; Or should he fear such dazzling heights to climb,

And love to tread a less aspiring way,— Leaving untouch'd the awful and sublime, And seeking humbler objects to portray, May find in such the theme of many a pleasing lay.

What though the glorious Sun, enthron'd on high, May more conspicuously this lesson teach; Or Moon and Stars, which gem the midnightsky,

A yet more touching homily may preach,

Not gratifying merely outward sense
By tints and odours,-but dispelling fear,
Awak'ning hope, by your intelligence,
And strength'ning humble faith in God's
omnipotence!

Come forth, then, lovely heralds of the Spring! Leave at your Maker's call your earthly bed; At his behest your grateful tribute bring To light and life, from darkness and the dead! Thou, timid Snow-drop, lift thy lowly head; Crocus and Primrose, show your varied dye; Violets, your ceaseless odours round you shed, Yourselves the while retiring from the eye, Yet loading with your sweets each breeze that passes by.

And you,-in gay variety that grace,
In later months, with beauty the parterre,
Making a sunshine in the shady place,
As Una and her milk-white lamb were there;
Arise! arise! and in your turns declare
The power of Him who has not only made
The depths of Ocean, and the heights of Air,
And Earth's magnificence, but has display'd
In you that power and skill with beauty's
charms array'd.

Uplift, proud Sun-flower, to thy favourite orb That disk whereon his brightness loves to dwell;

And, as thou seemst his radiance to absorb,
Proclaim thyself the garden's sentinel:-
And thou too, gentle, modest Heather-bell,
Gladden thy lonely birth-place; Jasmines,
spread

Your star-like blossoms, fragrant to the
smell;
You Evening-Primroses, when day has fled,
Open your pallid flowers, by dews and
moonlight fed.

And where my favourite Abbey rears on high
Its crumbling ruins, on their loftiest crest,
Ye Wall-flowers, shed your tints of golden dye,
On which the morning-sunbeams love to
rest,-

On which, when glory fills the glowing west,
The parting splendours of the day's decline,
With fascination to the heart address'd,
So tenderly and beautifully shine,
As if reluctant still to leave that hoary
shrine.

Convolvolus, expand thy cup-like flower, Graceful in form, and beautiful in hue; Clematis, wreathe afresh thy garden-bower;

pride