b'iw3m \n\n\n\n\nV \n\n\n\nmy- \n\n\n\n\n\n\n\nt \'m>^^ \n\n\n\n"LIBRARY OF CONGRESS.? \n\n\n\n<^Aa/.. -? \n\n\n\n\\r \n\n\n\nJ UNITED STATES OP AMERICA. # \n\n\n\nSONGS BY THE WAY, \n\n\n\nCHIEFLY DEVOTIONAL ; \n\n\n\nWITH \n\n\n\nTRANSLATIONS AND IMITATIONS. \n\n\n\n\nREV. GEORGE W^DOANE, A. M \n\n\n\n** Cantantes licet usqtu (minus via ladel) eamtw." \n\n" Sometimes, a listless hour beguile, \n\n" Framing loose numbers \'* \n\n\n\nNEW-YORK : \n\nE. BLISS AND E. WHITE, 128 BROADWAY. \n\nClayton 6f Van Norden^ Printers, \n\n\n\n\n1824. \n\n\n\n^^3 \n\n^!^^\'^ \n\n\n\nSouthern District of New-Yorlc^ ss. \n\nBE IT h EMEMBEHED, That on the fifteenth day of June, A. D. 1824. in the \nforty-f\'ighth year of the Independence of the United States of Amerira, George \nW. Doane, A. M. of the said district, hath deposited in this oflSce the title of a \nbook, the right whereof he claims as author, in ihe words following, to wit: \n\n" Songs by the Way, chiefly Devotional j with Translations and Imitations. \nBy the Kev. George W. i>oane, A. M " \n\n* Cantantts licet xuque (minus via ladet) eamtw." \n\n"... . Sometimes, a listless hour beguile, \n" Framing loose numbers " \n\nIn conformity to ih^- act of Congress of the United States, entitled, " An act \nfor the encouragement of learning, by securing the copies of maps, charts, and \nbooks, to the authors and proprietors of such copies, rluring the time therein \nmentioned." And also to an aci, *\xe2\x96\xa0 ntiiled, " An act s.up})Ipmentary to an act, \nentitled, an act for the encouragement of learnii g, by securing the copies of \nmaps, charts, and books, to the authors and proprietors of such copies, during \nthe times therein meniioned, and extending the benefits thereof to the arts of \ndesiffiiing, engraving, and etching historical and other pnnis.\'* \n^ ^\' JAMtS DILL, \n\nClerk of the Southern District of New- York. \n\n\n\nTO THB \nRIGHT REVEREND \n\nJOHN HENRY HOBART, D.D. \n\nBISHOP OF NEW-YORK; \n(now travelling in EUROPE*,) \n\nTHIS LITTLE VOLUME, \n\nnot as meriting his regard, \n\nBUT AS the \nIRRESISTIBLE EXPRESSION \n\nOF AFFECTIONATE REMEMBRANCE IN ABSENCE, \n\nAND OF \n\nFERVENT PRAYERS \n\nFOR HIS RETURN IN HEALTH AND HAPPINESS, \n\nIS MOST RESPECTFULLY DEDICATED, \n\nBY HIS OBEDIENT SERVANT, \n\nAND \n\nSON IN THE CHURCH, \n\nTHE AUTHOR- \n\n\n\nThe Courteous Reader is respectfully reminded, \nthat if, in the volume before him, but little has been \nperformed, so very little was promised in the Title- \npage, that his reasonable disappointment cannot be \ngreat. \n\nTo their Author, its Contents have most literally \nbeen, "Songs by the Way;" " loose numbers," \nframed in the intervals of an arduous avocation, and \nof severe study. \n\nIt is deemed sufficient, without resorting to any of \nthose ingenious pleas, which, from time immemorial, \nhave brought the sins of unwilling authors upon the \nheads of kind and importunate friends, simply to \nstate, that though some parts of the volume were \nwritten several years ago, and all of it at periods \nmore or less remote from the present date, no idea \nof its publication was entertained, until within a very \nshort time before it was put to press. \n\n1* \n\n\n\nVI \n\n\n\nThe Author has now only to express his hope that \nhis Readers may derive from its perusal some share \nof that solace which its occasional composition has \nafforded him, and that they may feel as he has felt \xe2\x80\x94 \nand especially when his " song has been of mercy \n\nand judgment" \n\n" Cantantes minus via laedet :" \n\nThe rugged way seems smoother while we sing. \n\n\n\nKeW\'York^ June^ 1824\xc2\xbb \n\n\n\ncosTTunrTs. \n\n\n\nPAGE \n\nMorning, 13 \n\nNoon, . \' 15 \n\nEvening, 17 \n\nMidnight, 19 \n\nThe Voice of Rama, 21 \n\nI am the Way, and the Truth, and the Life, . 23 \n\nThe Waters of Marah, 25 \n\nOur Father, who art in heaven, 27 \n\nThe love of Christ, 29 \n\nThe Sinner called, 30 \n\nO ! that I had wings hke a dove, 32 \n\nThe Faithful Saying, 35 \n\nLord, I beheve: help thou mine unbehef, . . 37 \n\nIn the hour of death, and in the day of judgment, 39 \n\nThe Plague of Darkness, 41 \n\nBlessed are the poor in spirit, 43 \n\n\n\nVIU \n\nPAGE \n\nLord, to whom shall we go ? 44 \n\nThe fashion of this world passeth away, \xe2\x80\xa2 . . 46 \n\nThe Water op Life, 49 \n\nLines, &c 51 \n\nLife\'s little Lines, 55 \n\nTo A VERY dear Friend, 58 \n\nRosemary, 61 \n\nY- Thermopylae, 63 \n\nFragment, 65 \n\nThe memory of joys that are past, .... 67 \n\nThe Heart\'s Tribute to an Absent Friend, 69 \n\nThe Mourn\'d \xe2\x80\x94 the Lov\'d \xe2\x80\x94 the Lost, . . 71 \n\n^ On A VERY old Wedding Ring, 73 \n\nRemember\'d Joys, 76 \n\nThe Faded Flower, 78 \n\nSons of the Greeks ! 80 \n\n" Forget me NOT," 84 \n\n^y That silent Moon, 85 \n\nHYMNS FROM THE LATIN. \n\nMorning Hymn, 95 \n\nHymn for Noon, 97 \n\n\n\nIX \n\nPAGE \n\nEvening Hymn, 98 \n\nMorning Hymn, 99 \n\nHymn for the Season of Lent, . . . .101 \n\nMorning Hymn, 103 \n\nEvening Hymn, 104 \n\nMorning Hymn, 105 \n\nHymn for Whitsunday, 107 \n\nMorning Hymn, 109 \n\nEvening Hymn, Ill \n\nMorning Hymn, 113 \n\nEvening Hymn, 115 \n\nFor the Festival of the Holy Innocents, . 117 \n\nODES, SONNETS, &tc., FROM THE GREEK, \nLATIN, AND ITALIAN. \n\nThe Wave from Ocean severed, [Metastasio.\'] 121 \nInscription for the Tomb of a little Girl, 122 \nThe Triumph of Judith, [Metastasio.\'] . .124 \nTo the Peninsula OF SiRMio, [Ca^w//w5.] . .127 \nThe Hope OF THE Wicked, [^Metastasio*\'] . .129 \n\nTo Grosphus, [Horace] 131 \n\nSonnet, [Tasso.\'] 134 \n\n>^ Love and Death, [Alciatus.\'] 135 \n\n\n\nPAGE \n\nTo Delius, [Horace.\'} 137 \n\nSonnet, \\_Petrarch.\'] 140 \n\nThe pleasures of a country life, [Horace.\'} 142 \nWhy WISH FOR LIFE ? [Metastasio.} . \xe2\x80\xa2 . .146 \n\nHarmodius and Aristogeiton, 148 \n\nTo Fuscus Aristius, [Horace.\'] . . . .159 \n\nSonnet, [Petrarch."] 152 \n\nTo the Spring, [Meleager.] 153 \n\n\n\nSONGS BY THE WAY, \n\n&LC. &C. &C. \n\n\n\nMORNZKG. \n\n" My voice shalt Thou hear in the morning." \n\nTo Thee, O Lord, with dawning Ught, \n\nMy thankful voice Fll raise, \nThy mighty pow\'r to celebrate. \n\nThy holy name to praise ; \n\nFor Thou, in helpless hour of night, \n\nHast compass\'d all my bed. \nAnd now, refreshed with peaceful sleep. \n\nThou liftest up my head. \n\nGrant me, my God, Thy quickening grace. \n\nThro\' this, and ev\'ry day, \nThat, guided and supported thus, \n\nMy feet may never stray. \n\n2 \n\n\n\n14 \n\n\n\nIncrease my faith, increase my hope. \n\nIncrease my zeal and love. \nAnd fix my heart\'s affections all \n\nOn Christ, and things above. \n\nAnd when, life\'s labours o\'er, I sink \n\nTo slumber in the grave, \nIn death\'s dark vale be Thou my trust. \n\nTo succour and to save ; \n\nThat so, through Him who bled and died, \n\nAnd rose again for me. \nThe grave and gate of death may prove \n\nA passage home to Thee. \n\n\n\nirooxr. \n\n" At noon will I pray." \n\nFather of lights, from Thee descends \n\nEach good and perfect gift ; \nThen hear us while our thankful hearts \n\nIn songs of praise we Uft : \n\nWe praise Thee, Maker, that Thou iSirst \n\nDidst form us from the clay, \nAnd gav\'st us souls to love Thy name. \n\nAnd worship, and obey. \n\nWe praise Thee, that the souls Thou gav\'st, \n\nThou still in life dost hold \xe2\x80\x94 \nPreserver, noon would fade to night, \n\nEre half Thy love were told ! \n\n\n\n16 \n\n\n\nWe praise Thee, Saviour, that thou didst \nOur souls from death release, \n\nAnd, with Thine own atoning blood, \nProcure us endless peace. \n\nMaker, Preserver, Saviour, God ! \n\nWhat varied thanks we owe \nTo Thee, howe\'er addressM, from whom \n\nSuch varied blessings flow. \n\nTo Thee, who on a darkened world \n\nCelestial light hast pour\'d, \nAnd told of heav\'n, and taught the way, \n\nIn Thy most holy word. \n\nWide as the blaze of noon is spread, \nSpread Thou that word abroad : \n\nWe ask it. Saviour, in Thy name 5 \nMaker, Preserver, God ! \n\n\n\nEVEirZKG. \n\n\n\nLet my prayer be as the evening sacrifice." \n\nSoftly now the light of day \nFades upon my sight away ; \nFree from care, from labour free, \nLord, I would commune with Thee ! \nThou, whose all-pervading eye \n\nNought escapes, without, within, \nPardon each infirmity, \n\nOpen fault, and secret sin. \n\nSoon, for me, the light of day \nShall for ever pass away ; \nThen, from sin and sorrow free, \nTake me, Lord, to dwell with Thee ! \n\n2* \n\n\n\n18 \n\n\n\nThou who, sinless, yet hast known \n\nAll of man\'s infirmity; \nThen, from Thy eternal throne, \n\nJesus, look with pitying eye* \n\n\n\nMIDNIGHT. \n\n" God my Maker, who giveth songs in the night." \n\nAt midnight hour, O Lord, I wake \n\nTo think upon Thy name. \nTo call to mind Thy gracious acts, \n\nAnd all Thy praise proclaim ; \nAnd though no friendly ray should shine, \nNor single eye should wake but mine, \nMy spirit knows no startling fear, \nConvinc\'d that Thou, my God, art near. \n\nThou, in my time of deep distress, \n\nDidst aid me from on high. \nAnd wip\'d the starting tear away. \n\nAnd stilPd the bursting sigh : \n\n\n\n20 \n\n\n\nLife cannot throw so deep a gloom. \nThere is no darkness in the tomb \nCan e\'er disturb my breast with fear. \nFor Thou, my God, wilt still be near. \n\n\n\nTHE VOZCXS OF RAMA. \n\n" Rachel weeping for her children, and would not be \ncomforted." \n\nHeard ye from Rama\'s ruin\'d walls. \n\nThat voice of bitter weeping ! \xe2\x80\x94 \nIs it the moan of fetter\'d slave. \n\nHis watch of sorrow keeping ? \nHeard ye from Rama\'s wasted plains, \n\nThat cry of lamentation ! \xe2\x80\x94 \nIs it the wail of Israel\'s sons. \n\nFor Salem\'s devastation ? \n\nAh, no \xe2\x80\x94 a sorer ill than chains \n\nThat bitter wail is waking, \nAnd deeper wo than Salem\'s fall \n\nThat tortur\'d heart is breaking : \n\n\n\n22 \n\n\n\n\'T is Rachel, of her sons bereft. \nWho Hfts that voice of weeping ; \n\nAnd childless are the eyes that there \nTheir watch of grief are keeping. \n\nOh ! who shall tell what fearful pangs \n\nThat mother\'s heart are rending, \nAs o\'er her infant\'s little grave, \n\nHer wasted form is bending ; \nFrom many an eye that weeps to-day, \n\nDelight may beam to-morrow ; \nBut she \xe2\x80\x94 ^her precious babe is not ! \n\nAnd what remains but sorrow ? \n\nBereaved One ! I may not chide \n\nThy tears and bitter sobbing \xe2\x80\x94 \nWeep on ! \'t will cool that burning brow, \n\nAnd still that bosom\'s throbbing : \nBut be not thine such grief as theirs \n\nTo whom no hope is given \xe2\x80\x94 \nSnatch\'d from the world, its sins and snares, \n\nThy infant rests in Heaven. \n\n\n\n\xc2\xab I am the Way, and the Truth, and the Life." \n\nThou art the Way \xe2\x80\x94 to Thee alone \nFrom Sin and Death we flee ; \n\nAnd he who would the Father seek. \nMust seek him. Lord, by Thee. \n\nThou art the Truth \xe2\x80\x94 Thy word alone \n\nTrue wisdom can impart ; \nThou only canst inform the mind. \n\nAnd purify the heart. \n\nThou art the Life \xe2\x80\x94 the rending tomb \nProclaims Thy conq\'ring arm^ \n\nAnd them who put their trust in Thee \nNor death nor hell shall harm. \n\n\n\n24 \n\n\n\nThou art the Way, the Truth, the Life- \nGrant us that Way to know. \n\nThat Truth to keep, that Life to win. \nWhose joys eternal flow. \n\n\n\nTHE TVATERS OF KARAH. \n\n" And Moses cried unlo the Lord, and the Lord showed \nhim a tree, which, when he had cast into the waters, the \nwaters were made sweet." \n\nBy Marah\'s stream of bitterness. \n\nWhen Moses stood and cried, \nJehovah heard his fervent pray\'r, \n\nAnd instant help suppUed : \nThe Prophet sought the precious tree \n\nWith prompt, obedient feet ; \n\'T was cast into the fount, and made \n\nThe bitter waters sweet. \n\nWhene\'er affliction o\'er thee sheds \n\nIts influence maUgn, \nThen, suff\'rer, be the Prophet\'s pray\'r, \n\nAnd prompt obedience, thine : \n3 \n\n\n\n26 \n\n\n\n\'T is but a Marah\'s fount, ordain\'d \nThy faith in God to prove. \n\nAnd pray\'r and resignation shall \nIts bitterness remove. \n\n\n\n" Our Father, who art in Heaven." \n\n" Our Father" \xe2\x80\x94 such Thy gracious name. \nThough thronM above the starry frame \xe2\x80\x94 \nThy holy name be still adorM, \nEternal God, and sov\'reign Lord. \nSpread far and wide Thy righteous sway, \nTill utmost earth Thy laws obey; \nAnd as in Heaven, before Thy throne. \nSo here. Thy will by all be done. \nThis day. Great Source of ev\'ry good, \nFeed us with our convenient food. \nAs we to all their faults forgive, \nSo bid us by Thy pardon live. \nLet not our feeble footsteps stray, \nSeduc\'d by sin, from Thy right way; \nBut, sav\'d from evil work and word. \nMake us Thine own. Almighty Lord ! \n\n\n\n28 \n\n\n\nFor Thine the sceptre is, and throne, \nThat shall be crush\'d or shaken, never ; \n\nThe glory Thine, O God, alone. \n\nAnd pow\'r that shall endure for ever. \n\n\n\n\\ \n\n\n\nTHIS Z.OVZS OF CHRIST. \n\n" Who shall separate us from the love of Christ ?" \n\nShall tribulation\'s deep distress. \nOr fear, or want, or nakedness, \nOr cruel foe, or conqVing sword, \nDivide us from Thy love, O Lord ? \n\nNo \xe2\x80\x94 vain alike were death, and life, \nAnd pow\'rs of hell, and Satan\'s strife, \nAnd things that are, and things to be, \nTo separate us. Lord, from Thee ! \n\nSo shall we, Saviour, through Thy love. \nIn all things more than conq\'rors prove ; \nNor grave shall hold, nor hell shall harm. \nThe ransom\'d of Thy holy arm. \n\n3* \n\n\n\nTHS SIKKER CAZiZjED. \n\nReturn and come to God, \n\nCast all your sins away, \nSeek ye the Saviour\'s cleansing blood, \n\nRepent, believe, obey. \n\nSay not ye cannot come \xe2\x80\x94 \n\nFor Jesus bled, and died. \nThat none who ask in humble faith, \n\nShould ever be denied. \n\nSay not ye will not come \xe2\x80\x94 \n\'Tis God vouchsafes to call, \n\nAnd fearful shall their end be found, \nOn whom His wrath shall fall. \n\n\n\n31 \n\n\n\nCome, then, whoever will, \nCome, while His call\'d to-day, \n\nFlee to the Saviour\'s cleansing blood. \nRepent, believe, obey. \n\n\n\n"And I said, oh! that I had wings like a dovej for then \nwould I flee away and be at rest." \n\nWho that has mingled in the fray. \n\nOr borne the storms of life. \nHas not desir\'d to flee away \n\nFrom all its sin and strife \xe2\x80\x94 \nHas not desir\'d to flee away, \nLike yonder startled dove. \nAnd seek, in some far wilderness, \nA nestling-place of love. \nWhere the tumult, if heard, should excite no alarm. \nAnd the storm and the tempest sweep by without harm ? \n\nWho that has felt the rankling wound \n\nOf disappointment\'s sting, \nOr provM the worse than vanity \n\nOf ev\'ry earthly thing. \n\n\n\n33 \n\n\n\nHas not desir\'d, like yon sweet dove. \n\nTo wander far away, \nAnd find some desert lodging-place, \nAnd there for ever stay, \nWhere the vain show of earth should no longer delude. \nWhere the fiend disappointment should never intrude? \n\nWho that has felt the crumbling touch \n\nOf premature decay. \nOr, sorer far, has mourn\'d o\'er friends \n\nTorn from his heart away, \nHas not desir\'d, Uke yonder dove. \n\nTo seek some lonely nest. \nAnd, far from earth\'s vain fellowship. \nTo dwell and be at rest. \nTill the summons be heard that shall bid him depart. \nAnd for ever rejoin the belov\'d of his heart ? \n\nAnd it shall be \xe2\x80\x94 that summons of joy shall be giv\'n, \nTo the converse of saints, to the mansions of Heav\'n, \nWhere the cross of the sufi^\'rer shall no more be borne. \nBut the crown of the conq\'ror for ever be worn. \n\n\n\n34 \n\n\n\nThou that seek\'st this glorious prize, \nAsk no more for wings of dove ; \n\nAngel-pinion\'d, thou shalt rise \nTo the realms of peace and love : \n\nRealms, where Christ has gone before. \nBlissful mansions to prepare ; \n\nRealms, where they who serve Him here. \nShall His pow\'r and glory share. \n\nThere, no battle-fray is heard ; \nThere, no tempest need be fearM ; \nDisappointment cannot sting ; \nBanish\'d thence each hurtful thing; \nSickness comes not there, nor pain; \nDeath hath there no dark domain : \nGathered there, no foot shall rove \nOf the happy friends we love ; \nGathered there, no soul shall roam, \n\'T is our own \xe2\x80\x94 our Father\'s Home. \n\n\n\nTHE FAZTHFUZi SAlTZZra. \n\n" This is a faithful saying, and worthy of all acceptation, \nthat Christ Jesus came into the world to save sinners." \n\nYes \xe2\x80\x94 it is a faithful saying, \n\nChrist the Saviour died for me : \n\nHaste, my soul, without delaying, \nTo His great atonement flee. \n\nShall the Lord of earth and heaven, \n\nSojourning with sinful men, \nDie, that they may be forgiven, \n\nYet His death be all in vain ? \n\nNo \xe2\x80\x94 ^by ev\'ry drop that\'s streaming \n\nDown from that accursed tree. \nBy Thy death, my soul redeeming, \n\nSaviour, I will come to Thee ! \n\n\n\n36 \n\n\n\nWorldly riches, honours, pleasures, \nShall no more my soul detain ; \n\nDearer, Thou, than all the treasures, \nEarth can give, or life can gain. \n\n\n\n" Lord, I believe: help Thou mine unbelief!" \n\nLord, I believe, the father cried, \n\nHelp Thou mine unbelief \xe2\x80\x94 \nO ! if Thou canst, have mercy now, \n\nAnd give my child reUef ! \n\nThe father\'s fervent pray\'r was heard, \n\nFulfilled the father\'s joy ; \nThe Saviour pitied, spake, and heal\'d \n\nHis poor demoniac boy. \n\nSinner \xe2\x80\x94 this Lord is still the same, \n\nStill waiting to forgive : \nSeek, then. His cleansing, saving blood, \n\nBelieve, obey, and hve. \n4 \n\n\n\n38 \n\n\n\nSuff\'rer \xe2\x80\x94 it is thy Father smites, \nThy Father\'s chastening love : \n\nThe hand that gives, will heal the wound, \nIn fairer realms above. \n\nChristian \xe2\x80\x94 H is there thy Saviour reigns. \n\nEnthroned above the skies. \nAnd thither, freed from death\'s dark thrall, \n\nThy ransom\'d soul shall rise. \n\nBeliever \xe2\x80\x94 press undaunted on, \n\nNor heed earth\'s dull delay. \nWhile angels wait to welcome thee \n\nTo realms of ceaseless day. \n\nSinner, no more, nor suff \'rer, then. \n\nLife\'s painful journey o\'er. \nThine is the Christian heritage \n\nOf joy for ever more ; \n\nAnd crowns of quenchless glory thine, \n\nThy constancy\'s reward ; \nBeHever \xe2\x80\x94 thine, in Heav\'n to dwell \n\nFor ever with the Lord. \n\n\n\n" In the hour of death, and in the day of judgment \n\nMy God, when nature\'s frame shall sink. \nAnd totter on destruction\'s brink. \nBe Thou my portion and my cup, \nAnd bear my fainting spirit up. \n\n\'T was Thou that form\'dst me first from clay. \nAnd ledd\'st me through life\'s devious way 5 \nThen take, O God, my parting breath. \nSupport me in the hour of death. \n\nAnd when before the throne I stand. \nAnd wait Thy judgment\'s dread command, \nDo Thou my strong supporter be. \nAnd save the soul that trusts in Thee. \n\n\n\n40 \n\n\n\nThou, Saviour, for my sins hast died, \nThy grace alone my strength suppUed ; \nThen cast me not, O Lord, away, \nBut save me in the judgment day. \n\n\n\nTHE PXiAOUB OF DA&KKESS. \n\n" But all the children of Israel had light in their \n\ndwellings." \n\nWhen darkness erst, by God\'s command, \nEnvelopM haughty Egypt\'s land. \nThroughout that long and fearful night \nIn Israel\'s dwellings all was light. \n\nSo, to the righteous, light shall rise. \nThough clouds and tempests wrap the skies, \nAnd faith triumphant mock the gloom \nThat gathers round the silent tomb. \n\nThen grant us, God, while here we rove. \nThy will to know. Thy ways to love, \nTo prove the riches of Thy grace, \nAnd share the brightness of Thy face 5 \n\n4* \n\n\n\n42 \n\n\n\nTill, guided so in all our way, \nAnd cheer\'d by Thy celestial ray. \nWe reach at last that heav\'nly height, \nWhere all is peace, and joy, and light. \n\n\n\n" Blessed are the poor in spirit ; for theirs is the kingdom \nof Heaven." \n\n\'T IS thepromise of Christ \xe2\x80\x94 ^to the poorshall be giv\'n, \nAnd humble, and contrite, the kingdom of Heav\'n ; \nAnd who would not toil through this pathway of pain, \nAnd who would not suffer, such promise to gain ! \n\nBear up, then, my soul, \'mid the darkness and storm. \nNor shrink from the strife, though terrific its form \xe2\x80\x94 \nThere is One that shall guide thee, and guard thee \n\nfrom harm, \nWhose eye is unerring, unconquer\'d His arm. \n\nTo the contrite and faithful the promise is sure. \nAnd salvation is pledg\'d to the souls that endure ; \nAnd the crown and the sceptre shall be their reward, \nWho have manfully stood on the side of the Lord. \n\n\n\n" Lord, to whom shall we go ? Thou hast the words of \neternal life." \n\nLord, should we leave Thy hallow\'d feet, \n\nTo whom should we repair ? \nWhere else such holy comforts meet \n\nAs spring eternal there ? \n\nEarth has no fount of true delight, \n\nNo pure, perennial stream ; \nAnd sorrow\'s storm, and death\'s long night. \n\nSoon wrap life\'s brightest beam. \n\nUnmingled joys \'t is Thine to give, \n\nAnd undecaying peace ; \nFor Thou canst teach us so to live, \n\nThat life shall never cease. \n\n\n\n45 \n\n\n\nThou only canst the cheering words \n\nOf endless life supply, \nAnointed of the Lord of Lords, \n\nThe Son of God most high. \n\n\n\n" The fashion of this world passeth away.?\' \n\nIn careless childhood\'s sunny hours \n\nWhen all we love is nigh. \nNo thorn amid life\'s op\'ning flow\'rs, \n\nNo cloud in all its sky. \nWe fear no ill, nor dream of care, \n\nBut deem each following day \nShall Ught us on to fairer scenes, \n\nAnd beam with brighter ray. \n\nAnd childhood\'s vernal season past, \n\nAnd shunn\'d youth\'s thousand snares, \nWhen manhood\'s autumn comes at last, \n\nWith sorrows, fears, and cares. \nStill, autumn-like, its skies are bright. \n\nAnd still the world seems young, \nAnd still we love its mellow light, \n\nIts bow\'rs with fruitage hung. \n\n\n\n47 \n\n\n\nBut autumn\'s golden skies must fade. \n\nAnd autumn\'s fruits decay. \nAnd soon, \'mid snows and storms, must come \n\nOld age\'s wintry day. \nA wintry day at best \xe2\x80\x94 as short, \n\nAs gloomy, and as cold. \nTill the worn body yields at last, \n\nAnd life lets go its hold. \n\nAnd when its earthly hold is gone. \n\nThe world\'s brief fashion past, \nAre there no hopes that shall survive \xe2\x80\x94 \n\nNo pleasures that shall last ? \nYes, Christian \xe2\x80\x94 it is thine to know \n\nLife \'s but a weary way, \nA short, though painful, prilgrimage. \n\nTo realms of endless day ; \n\nWhere Faith her crown of life shall wear, \n\nAnd Hope be lost in joy. \nAnd meek-eyed Love be paid with bliss \n\nThat time can ne\'er destroy : \n\n\n\n48 \n\n\n\nFor thither has the Lamb gone up, \n\nWho suflferM, and was slain. \nThat, ris\'n with Him, his followers might \n\nWith Him for ever reign. \n\n\n\nTHE "WATER OF X.ZFE. \n\n" Whosoever will, let him take the water of life freely." \n\nHo ! all that thirst, draw nigh, \nAnd drink of that pure fount \n\nWhich issues forth eternally \nFrom Zion\'s holy mount. \n\nHaste to that blessed fold \n\nWhich Jesus first ordainM, \nAnd which his hand and holy arm \n\nHave ever since maintained. \n\nThere shall the sacred fount \n\nWash all your sins away, \nAnd fit you, so your faith be firm, \n\nFor realms of endless day. \n5 \n\n\n\n50 \n\n\n\nThere is that word dispensed \n\nBy which alone we hve, \nWhich only can our hopes confirm, \n\nAnd joys eternal give. \n\nThere is that feast prepared \nFor those in Christ who live ; \n\nRich banquet ! where the contrite heart \nTrue comfort shall receive. \n\nCome, then, the Spirit cries, \nAnd she, the heav\'nly Bride, \n\nCome, all that are athirst, nor fear \nThat one shall be denied. \n\nCome, whosoever will, \n\nNor price, nor money bring ; \n\nCome to that fount whose streams of hfe \nThrough endless ages spring. \n\n\n\nX.ZKSS \n\nSUGGESTED BY A VERY BRILLIANT SUN-SETTING. \n\nSeptember I^ISW. \n" The things which are seen are temporal." \n\nOh ! see yon glowing Occident, \n\nWith crimson, gold, and purple blent, \n\nHow high and wide the pageant \'s spread, \n\nHow far its gorgeous glories shed : \n\nNot all that the earth has of brightest and best, \n\nCan vie with the splendours of yonder west. \n\nOh! could we but mount to that golden clime, \nAnd traverse those pathways of purple Ught, \n\nTo the perishing things of earth and time. \nWe \'d bid a long and a glad " Good Night!" \n\n\n\n52 \n\n\n\nThere, \'mid the glow of parting day, \n\nThrough amaranthine fields we \'d stray. \n\nDrinking in, with ravish\'d ears. \n\nThe ceaseless music of the spheres ; \n\nGazing on glories of brighter shine \n\nThan the richest gems of Golconda\'s mine ; \n\nResting in bow\'rs of sweeter perfume \n\nThan the " gardens of Gul" in their fairest bloom. \n\nFond enthusiast ! see \xe2\x80\x94 ^it fades \n\nEv\'n upon thy ravish\'d sight. \nLost \'mid evening\'s gather\'d shades, \n\nDying with the dying light : \nThus ever fades earth\'s loveliest, \nThus dies the brightest and the best ! \n\nI \'ve seen, in blooming loveliness, \n\nThe youthful maiden\'s angel form ; \nI \'ve seen, in tow\'ring stateliness. \n\nThe hero, breasting battle\'s storm ; \xe2\x80\x94 \nThe canker-worm of hopelessness \n\nHas blighted all her bloom ; \nWar\'s iron bolt, in ruthlessness, \n\nHas sped him to the tomb : \n\n\n\n53 \n\n\n\nThus ever fades earth\'s loveUest, \nThus dies the brightest and the best ! \n\nThen count not maiden\'s loveliness, \nNor hero\'s tow\'ring stateUness, \n\nMortal, dare be wise : \nLet not thy soul\'s aspirings rest \nOn gilded east, or glowing west, \n\nLook beyond the skies ! \n\nThere, far above that line of light. \nWhich bounds thy dim and shorten\'d sight, \nIn never dying lustre shine \nThe splendours of the world divine : \nThe new Jerusalem, the holy. \n\nWhose foundations are of gold, \nGarnish\'d with the radiant glory \n\nOf thousand precious stones untold ; \nAnd the rainbow-circled throne, \n\nOn its fiery axles wheeling ; \nAnd Jehovah\'s own Zion, the holy mount ; \nAnd the water of life in its crystal fount ; \n\nAnd the tree with its leaves for the nations\' healing. \n\n5* \n\n\n\n54 \n\n\n\nSuch as these, but numberless, \nThe glories of that heav\'nly place, \nWhere sorrow is never known, nor night. \nFor God and the Lamb are its joy and light, \n\n\n\nZiIFE\'S I.ITTZ.ZS ZiZITES. \n\n" Noting, ere Ihey fade away, \nThe little lines of yesterday." \n\nLife\'s " little lines" how short, how faint. \n\nHow fast they fade away ; \nIts highest hopes, its brightest joys, \n\nAre compass\'d in a day. \n\nYouth\'s bright and mild and morning light, \n\nIts sunshine and its show\'rs, \nIts hopes and fears, its loves and tears. \n\nIts heedless, happy hours ; \nAnd manhood\'s high and brighten\'d noon, \n\nIts honours, dangers, cares. \nThe parent\'s pains, the parent\'s joys, \n\nThe parent\'s anxious pray\'rs. \n\n\n\n56 \n\n\n\nFade in old age\'s evening gray. \n\nThe twilight of the mind ; \nThen sink in death\'s long, dreamless night, \n\nAnd leave no trace behind. \n\nYet, though so changing and so brief \n\nOur life\'s eventful page, \nIt has its charms for ev\'ry grief, \n\nIts joys for ev\'ry age. \n\nIn youth\'s, in manhood\'s golden hours, \n\nLoves, friendships, strew the way \nWith April\'s earliest, sweetest flow\'rs. \n\nAnd all the bloom of May ; \nAnd when old age, with wintry hand. \n\nHas frosted o\'er the head. \nVirtue\'s fair fruits survive the blast, \n\nWhen all beside are fled 5 \nAnd faith, with pure, unwav\'ring eye, \n\nCan pierce the gather\'d gloom, \nAnd smile upon the spoiler\'s rage, \n\nAnd Uve beyond the tomb. \n\n\n\n57 \n\n\n\nBe ours, then, virtue\'s deathless charm, \n\nAnd faith\'s untiring flight ; \nThen shall we rise, from death\'s dark sleep, \n\nTo worlds of cloudless light. \n\n\n\nTO A VERT DEAR FRXSMTD. \n\n" Friendship, I owe thee much." \n\nDark to the soul, and desolate. \n\nLife\'s sunniest hours would be, \nAnd cheerless fortune\'s best estate, \n\nFair Friendship ! but for thee. \nAnd oh ! when tempests wrap the skies. \n\nHow comfortless their gloom. \nDid not thy radiant visions rise \n\nOur darkness to illume ! \n\nFriend of my heart ! in hours of joy, \n\nI \'ve listened to thy voice. \nAnd felt, in each inspiring tone. \n\nNew motive to rejoice 5 \n\n\n\n89 \n\n\n\nAnd oft, with anxious cares opprest, \nAnd griefs thou didst not know, \n\nThy kindness has reUevM my breast. \nAnd hghten\'d ev\'ry wo. \n\nOh ! I have lovM with thee to rove, \n\nIn Spring\'s reviving hour, \nEre verdure yet had clad the grove, \n\nOr fragrance filPd the flow\'r ; \nAnd joy\'d when Summer found us laid \n\nBeneath some aged oak. \nWhere, save the streamlet\'s bubbling tale, \n\nNo sound the stillness broke. \n\nWith thee, when Autumn\'s mellowing hand \n\nHas ting\'d the woods with gold, \nHow dear to mark each varied tint \n\nSuccessively unfold ! \nAnd ev\'n in Winter\'s sullen hour. \n\nTo roam delighted on. \nAnd feel, that not in Summer bow\'r, \n\nIs nature woo\'d alone. \n\n\n\neo \n\n\n\nThose happy hours, those happy hours. \n\nHave flitted on the wind, \nBut many a dear remembrance Hves, \n\nDeep in my heart entwin\'d ; \nAnd oft the chords with which they \'re bound, \n\nShall fancy wake again ; \nAnd mem\'ry love to linger long \n\nDeUghted on that strain. \n\n\n\nAOSEBCARY. \n\n" There\'s rosemary \xe2\x80\x94 that\'s for remembrance 1" \n\nIt is not the brightest and sweetest flow\'r \n\nThat the heart of affection may longest cherish. \nFor when the winds rise, and the tempests low\'r, \n\nThe fairest is ever the first to perish : \nOh no \xe2\x80\x94 the withered and wild-wood leaf \n\nIs as dear to the heart, for it will not vary ; \nAnd dear ev\'n the straw from the oaten sheaf. \n\nAnd the simplest sprig of the sad rosemary. \n\nThe rosemary, friendship\'s strongest charm, \n" Seeming and savour the winter long,"* \n\n^ So Shakspeare\'s Perdita, in the Winter\'s Tale : \n\n" Reverend Sirs, \n\nFor you there\'s rosemary, and rue ; these keep \nSeeming, and savour, all the winter long : \nGrace and remembrance be to you both." \n\n6 \n\n\n\n62 \n\nThrough the year\'s chill night it receives no harm, \nNor fades, though the tempest beat loud and strong : \n\nAnd so will the heart, with affection warm, \nIn joy and in sorrow be ever the same. \n\nAnd the blink of the sun, and the dash of the storm \xe2\x80\x94 \nWhat are they all to its changeless flame ! \n\nThey say that the rosemary leaf can shed* \n\nOn the memVy that \'s fading, a magical pow\'r ; \nAnd, sweetly embalming the past and the dead \n\nWith the dew of remembrance, their life restore : \nOh ! thus, when the light of affection\'s smile \n\nHas beacon\'d me over the world\'s rough wave. \nMay the dew of its tears, when my voyage is done, \n\nFreshen the green of my turf-cover\'d grave. \n\n* Rosemary is prescribed, in the ancient books of physic, as \na strengthener of the memory. \n\n\n\n\'Sees ^i^h \'^a>^6\'nh f^^^fP^S \n\nKat Baveiv ^aXuros tv *EXXdh ^orfA$s\xc2\xbb \n\n\'T WAS an hour of fearful issues. \n\nWhen the bold three hundred stood, \nFor their love of holy freedom. \nBy that old Thessalian flood ; \nWhen, lifting high each sword of flame. \nThey called on ev\'ry sacred name. \nAnd swore, beside those dashing waves, \nThey never, never would be slaves ! \n\nAnd oh ! that oath was nobly kept \xe2\x80\x94 \n\nFrom morn to setting sun. \nDid desperation urge the fight \n\nWhich valour had begun ; \n\n\n\n64 \n\n\n\nTill, torrent-like, the stream of blood \nRan down and mingled with the flood, \nAnd all, from mountain clifT to wave. \nWas Freedom\'s, Valour\'s, Glory\'s grave. \n\nOh, yes, that oath was nobly kept, \n\nWhich nobly had been sworn, \nAnd proudly did each gallant heart \n\nThe foeman\'s fetters spurn ; \nAnd firmly was the fight maintain\'d. \nAnd amply was the triumph gain\'d ; \nThey fought, fair Liberty, for thee : \xe2\x80\x94 \nThey fell \xe2\x80\x94 to die is to be free. \n\n\n\n\'T WAS night \xe2\x80\x94 and winds were raving round. \nWith stern December\'s surly sound ; \nThe well-swept hearth was burning bright, \nAnd shed on all its cheering light ; \nThe doors were clos\'d, the curtains drawn, \nThe floor-cloth smooth as verdant lawn, \nAnd all was joy, and sportive mirth, \nAround the dear domestic hearth. \n\nDomestic love ! what holier shrine, \nSave ONE, is rear\'d on earth, than thine \xe2\x80\x94 \nWhere, as when clustered round thy feet. \nDoes heart meet heart in concord sweet ! \nStar of our souls ! where\'er we roam, \nWe turn to thee, delightful home ! \n\n6* \n\n\n\n66 \n\n\n\n\'T was night \xe2\x80\x94 the feather-footed hours \n\nHad fled, as if they " stepp\'d on flow\'rs \xe2\x80\xa2,\'\' \n\nHad noiseless fled \xe2\x80\x94 ^yet left behind \n\nIn happy hearts, mementos kind \n\nOf hours in social converse spent, \n\nWhen ev\'ry look is eloquent \xe2\x80\x94 \n\nOf moments pass\'d with those we love, \n\nPriz\'d by the heart long years above \xe2\x80\x94 \n\nMoments, which shall for ever be \n\nEmbalmM in fondest memory. \n\nThe jest, the laugh had circled round, \n\nMingled with music\'s silver sound ; \n\nThat wild and witching melody \n\nWhich moves at once, and melts the soul, \nAnd bids from out the unconscious eye, \n\nThe involuntary tear drop roll : \nSuch notes as oft, at midnight hour, \n\nThe sad enthusiast, ravish\'d, hears ; \nFar echo of some angePs song. \n\nSweet harmony of circhng spheres. \nThose notes, those notes, they linger yet. \nOh ! who that heard them could forget ! \nSpeech shall be lost, and thought, as soon \nAs that sweet voice, and " Bonny Doon." \n\n\n\nHOMZS. \n\n" The memory of joys that are past\xe2\x80\x94 pleasant, but mournful \nto the soul." \n\nHome of my careless infancy, \n\nHow dear each well-remember\'d scene. \n\nWhere ev\'ry rock and ev\'ry tree, \nIs eloquent of what has been. \n\nHow dear \xe2\x80\x94 yet ah ! how painful too ; \n\nThat joy how near to grief allied. \nWhen thoughts of lov\'d ones, now no more, \n\nCome rushing on me like a tide. \n\nDeparted joys of days gone by. \n\nAs slowly on your visions roll, \nMy heart is soften\'d, and subdu\'d, \n\nYe soothe and tranquillize my soul. \n\n\n\n68 \n\n\n\nLike music wafted on the gale. \n\nWhen midnight stillness wraps the land, \nSo sweet the far-off strains ye breathe \xe2\x80\x94 \n\nSo sad, when wak\'d by memory\'s hand. \n\n\n\nTHE \n\n\n\nHEART\'S TB.XBVTE \n\n\n\nTO \n\n\n\nAN ABSENT FRIEND, \n\n\n\n" Wi\' melting heart, an\' brimfu\' eye, \n" ril mind you still, tho\' far awa." \n\nWhen friends are met, and beaming mirth \n\nIs thron\'d in ev\'ry eye, \nWhy wanders oft the absent thought, \n\nAnd starts the secret sigh ? \n\'T is the silent tribute of heart to heart, \n\nWhich affection loves to pay. \nAnd H is wafted off, on that secret sigh, \n\nTo the friends that are far away. \n\n\n\n70 \n\n\n\nAnd why, amid its wreathed smiles. \n\nTurns pale that cheek with fear ? \nAnd why, beneath that joyous brow, \n\nLurks oft the gushing tear ? \n\'T is to wet the graves of departed joys, \n\nThat the heart that big tear sends ; \nAnd the fear that pales that anxious cheek. \n\nIs the fear for absent friends. \n\nThere \'s One \xe2\x80\x94 ^his name\'s in all our hearts \xe2\x80\x94 \n\nFor whom, where\'er he be. \nOur kindest thoughts, our fondest pray\'rs, \n\nAre wafted o\'er the sea : \nMay the spirit of health be on ev\'ry breeze, \n\nAnd of joy in ev\'ry ray. \nAnd may God, in mercy, protect the friend \n\nWhom we love, while far away ! \n\n\n\nTHIS MOVRX9\'\'D....THZ! Z\xc2\xabOVD\xc2\xbbi..TKZS XiOST. \n\nWhy on the vanishM look, the by-past tone. \nLoves the fond heart devotedly to dwell ? \n\nWhy, reckless of that now which is its own, \nOf hours that were delights it still to tell ? \n\nWhy for her pillagM nestling mourns the dove, \nWith all her living loves still all unblest ? \n\nWhy dotes the fond, bereaved mother more \nOn her dead infant, than on all the rest ? \n\nWhy is it, that around the lov\'d and lost \nHer most enchanting radiance fancy throws, \n\nWhile all the past is rob\'d in richer green, \n\nAnd fresher fragrance breathes from ev\'ry rose? \n\n\n\n72 \n\n\n\nMysterious Sympathy ! thy secret source, \n\nThy deep, embosomM springs, we cannot tell, \n\nNor scan thy subtle, undetected laws. \n\nThough each effect we feel and know so well. \n\n\'T is thine the withered flow\'ret most to prize, \nTo mourn the music flown, the odour shed. \n\nAnd, in the hallow\'d tomb of buried love. \n\nTo twine life\'s best affections round the dead. \n\n\n\nOK A VERV OX.D VrZSDDZII\'a-&ZNG. \n\nThe Device \xe2\x80\x94 Two hearts united. \nThe Motto \xe2\x80\x94 " Dear love of mine, my heart is thine." \n\nI LIKE that ring \xe2\x80\x94 that ancient ring, \nOf massive form, and virgin gold, \n\nAs firm, as free from base alloy, \nAs were the sterling hearts of old, \n\nI like it \xe2\x80\x94 for it wafts me back, \nFar, far along the stream of time, \n\nTo other men, and other days. \n\nThe men and days of deeds sublime. \n\nBut most I like it, as it tells \nThe tale of well-requited love ; \n\nHow youthful fondness persevered, \nAnd youthful faith disdain\'d to rove \xe2\x80\x94 \n7 \n\n\n\n74 \n\n\n\nHow warmly he his suit preferred. \n\nThough she^ unpitying, long denied, \nTill, soften\'d and subduM, at last. \n\nHe won his " fair and blooming bride." \xe2\x80\x94 \nHow, till the appointed day arriv\'d. \n\nThey blam\'d the lazy-footed hours \xe2\x80\x94 \nHow then, the white-rob\'d maiden train, \n\nStrew\'d their glad way with freshest flow\'rs \xe2\x80\x94 \nAnd how, before the holy man. \n\nThey stood, in all their youthful pride, \nAnd spoke those words, and vow\'d those vows, \n\nWhich bind the husband to his bride : \nAll this it tells ; \xe2\x80\x94 the plighted troth \xe2\x80\x94 \n\nThe gift of ev\'ry earthly thing \xe2\x80\x94 \nThe hand in hand \xe2\x80\x94 the heart in heart \xe2\x80\x94 \n\nFor this I like that ancient ring. \n\nI like its old and quaint device ; \n\n" Two blended hearts\'\' \xe2\x80\x94 though time may wear \nthem, \nNo mortal change, no mortal chance, \n\n" Till death," shall e\'er in sunder tear them. \n\n\n\n75 \n\n\n\nYear after year, \'neath sun and storm. \n\nTheir hopes in heav\'n, their trust in God, \nIn changeless, heartfelt, holy love, \n\nThese two the world\'s rough pathways trod. \nAge might impair their youthful fires. \n\nTheir strength might fail, \'mid life\'s bleak weather. \nStill, hand in hand, they travell\'d on \xe2\x80\x94 \n\nKind souls ! they slumber now together. \n\nI like its simple poesy too : \n\n" Mine own dear love, this heart is thine !" \nThine, when the dark storm howls along. \n\nAs when the cloudless sunbeams shine. \n" This heart is thine, mine own dear love !" \n\nThine, and thine only, and for ever ; \nThine, till the springs of life shall fail. \n\nThine, till the cords of hfe shall sever. \n\nRemnant of days departed long, \n\nEmblem of plighted troth unbroken, \nPledge of devoted faithfulness. \n\nOf heartfelt, holy love, the token : \nWhat varied feelings round it cling ! \xe2\x80\x94 \nFor these I like that ancient ring. \n\n\n\nXLEMSMBERSD J07S. \n\n" Sweet Mem\'ry ! wafted by thy gentle gale, \nOft up the stream of life I turn my sail, \nTo view the faery haunts of long-lost hours, \nBlest with far greener shades, far fresher flow\'rs." \n\nRemember\'d joys, remember\'d joys, \n\nWith what a soft and " dying fall" \nYe breathe upon the bosom, where \n\n" Hope comes no more, that comes to all ;" \nRecalling pleasure\'s wildest strains, \n\nDivested now of all their madness, \nAnd grief\'s subduing melodies, \n\nWith scarce a single tone of sadness. \n\nRemember\' d joys \xe2\x80\x94 to those who keep \nTheir vigils sad, while others sleep ; \nTo eyes unseen, that ceaseless weep. \nAnd watch the ling\'ring night away. \n\n\n\n77 \n\n\n\nHow dear the calm delights you give ! \nDeparted lov\'d ones seem to live, \nDeparted scenes again revive. \n\nReturns again youth\'s golden day ; \nAnd slowly as the visions move \nOf youthful friendship, early love, \n\nBefore the enthusiast\'s charmed eyes, \nHis swelHng heart forgets its pain. \nHe breathes his childhood\'s air again. \nHe treads once more his native plain. \n\nAnd gleams of bright-hair\'d hope again before him \nrise. \n\nDim twilight of remember\'d joys, \n\nI would not give one gleam of thine, \nFor all the gaudy world can yield. \n\nWhen most its noontide splendours shine. \nClouds may obscure hfe\'s brightest days, \nAnd, rainbow-like, its hopes depart. \nBut oh ! the joys of other years, \nEnshrin\'d by love, embalm\'d with tears, \nTill mem\'ry leaves her latest hold. \nShall live unalter\'d in my heart. \n\n7* \n\n\n\nTHIS FADBD FIiO\'W\'ER. \n\nThe flow\'r you gave, oh ! lady fair, \n\nPale as it seems, and scentless, now, \nIs dearer than the loveliest rose \n\nThat blooms on summer\'s gaudy brow. \nThe loveliest rose but blooms awhile. \n\nAnd wafts its precious perfumes round ; \nThe gale sweeps by \xe2\x80\x94 it charms no more \xe2\x80\x94 \n\nIts scattered leaflets strew the ground. \n\nNot so the little flow\'r you gave ; \n\nIts bloom may fade, its fragrance flit, \nBut oh ! the charm affection lends. \n\nAnd memory loves, will linger yet : \nWill linger yet \xe2\x80\x94 long years have pass\'d, \n\nThe storm has fall\'n, the gale swept by : \nStill, is it fragrant to my heart \xe2\x80\x94 \n\nStill, blooming to my memory. \n\n\n\n79 \n\n\n\nThere is a bloom no time can fade. \n\nThere is a fragrance will not part ; \nIt lives unchanging in the breast. \n\nIt breathes unfailing in the heart. \nThat breast unnumber\'d ills may wring, \n\nThat heart may bleed \xe2\x80\x94 perchance be broken \nIn all alike, it still shall charm \xe2\x80\x94 \n\nThat faded flow\'r, that cherish\'d token. \n\n\n\nSOI7S OF THE GREEKS! \n\nAct/re Teii^ii rm *E>\\Xnvuv, \n\n" Sons of the Greeks, arise!\'\' \n\nAnd gird your armour on. \nYour bleeding country\'s rights assert. \n\nAvenge your fathers\' wrong. \nSons of the helmed brave \n\nWho held Thermopylae, \nDare, as they dar\'d, the turban\'d slave. \n\nAnd Greece shall yet be free. \n\nShades of the brave, who bled \n\nAlong Cithaeron\'s steep. \nAnd still, round glory\'s hallow\'d bed, \n\nYour watch of ages keep ; \nSay \xe2\x80\x94 shall yon tower-crown\'d hill \n\nNo more be Freedom\'s home ? \nHer flag no more in triumph float \n\nAmid yon ocean\'s foam ? \n\n\n\n81 \n\n\n\nYes ! soon again as pure \n\nIlissus\' wave shall flow. \nAnd soon, on fam\'d Hymettus\' hills. \n\nAs fragrant flow\'rs shall blow ; \nFor freedom\'s sun shall rise \n\nOn Attica once more, \nAnd wind and wave shall lash and lave \n\nThe free Egean shore. \n\nShades of the mighty dead. \n\nWhose ashes still repose \nWhere (Eta rears his star-girt head, \n\nWhere cold Eurotas flows. \nInspire each patriot\'s heart. \n\nTo dare, as you have dar\'d. \nTill nerv\'d be every manly arm, \n\nAnd ev\'ry falchion bar\'d. \n\nLight, light the quenchless flame \n\nIn ev\'ry warrior\'s eye ; \nRouse, rouse the glorious battle-cry, \n\nFor Greece \xe2\x80\x94 for Victory ! \n\n\n\n83 \n\n\n\nNor let the combat cease. \nWhile Moslem shall remain \n\nTo mar fair Freedom\'s festal rites, \nHer heritage to stain. \n\nHark ! \'t is the trumpet\'s clang, \n\nThe squadron\'s tramp, I hear ; \nClashes the bright broadsword again, \n\nAnd ring the shield and spear : \nSee ! \'t is the plumed helm. \n\nThe banner streaming wide ; \nThe Athenian horsemen mount again, \n\nAnd Spartan, side by side. \n\n\'T is up \xe2\x80\x94 the glorious strife, \n\nBy field, and tow\'r, and town ; \nAnd palace, mosque, and minaret, \n\nAnd frowning fort, are down : \nThe Ottoman retreats. \n\nThe Crescent veils its ray. \nAnd holy hands, in Stamboul\'s streets, \n\nThe Cross of Christ display. \n\n\n\n83 \n\n\n\n" Sons of the Greeks arise !" \n\nRise in your fathers\' might, \nWith sword girt on, and spear in rest. \n\nWage Freedom\'s holy fight : \nSwear \xe2\x80\x94 \'t was the fathers\' oath, \n\nAnd well befits the son \xe2\x80\x94 \nSwear, free to live, or firm to die, \n\n" By THOSE IN Marathon !\' \n\n\n\na \n\n\n\nFOBGET MCE KOT!" \n\n\n\nForget thee ! \xe2\x80\x94 how could I ? \xe2\x80\x94 each mom would \nremind me \nOf days which thy presence has hallow\'d and blest, \nAnd each night, in its visions and dreams, would \nrestore thee. \nAll pureness and beauty, mine angel of rest. \n\nForget thee ! \xe2\x80\x94 ^why should I ? \xe2\x80\x94 since with thee is \nblended \n\nEach scene of dehght that my fancy e\'er drew, \nAnd the hopes that on thee and thy love have attended. \n\nWere those of my life I most wished to find true. \n\nNo, trust me, that fervent and fond recollection. \nThose hopes, even fonder, can never depart, \n\nTill the holiest fount of my earthly affection \n\nShall ebb, with the warm tide of life, from my \nheart. \n\n\n\nTHAT SILENT MOON. \n\nThat silent moon, that silent moon, \nCareering now through cloudless sky. \n\nOh ! who shall tell what varied scenes, \nHave pass\'d beneath her placid eye, \n\nSince first, to hght this wayward earth. \n\nShe walk\'d in tranquil beauty forth ! \n\nHow oft has guilt\'s unhallow\'d hand. \nAnd superstition\'s senseless rite, \n\nAnd loud, licentious revelry, \n\nProfanM her pure and holy light : \n\nSmall sympathy is hers, I ween. \n\nWith sights like these, that Virgin Queen ! \n\nBut dear to her, in summer eve. \nBy rippling wave, or tufted grove, \n\nWhen hand in hand is purely clasp\'d, \nAnd heart meets heart in holy love, \n8 \n\n\n\n86 \n\n\n\nTo smile in quiet loneliness. \n\nAnd hear each whisper\'d vow, and bless. \n\nDispersed along the world\'s wide way, \nWhen friends are far, and fond ones rove. \n\nHow powerful she, to wake the thought, \nAnd start the tear for those we love. \n\nWho watch with us at night\'s pale noon, \n\nAnd gaze upon that silent moon. \n\nHow powerful, too, to hearts that mourn, \nThe magic of that moonlight sky, \n\nTo bring again the vanish\'d scenes \xe2\x80\x94 \nThe happy eves of days gone by ; \n\nAgain to bring, \'mid bursting tears, \n\nThe lov\'d, the lost of other years. \n\nAnd oft she looks, that silent moon, \nOn lonely eyes that wake to weep, \n\nIn dungeon dark, or sacred cell. \n\nOr couch, whence pain has banish\'d sleep \n\nOh ! softly beams her gentle eye, \n\nOn those who mourn, and those who die ! \n\n\n\n87 \n\n\n\nBut beam on whomsoever she will. \nAnd fall where\'er her splendours may, \n\nThere\'s pureness in her chasten\'d light. \nThere\'s comfort in her tranquil ray : \n\nWhat pow\'r is hers to sooth the heart \xe2\x80\x94 \n\nWhat pow\'r, the trembling tear to start ! \n\nThe dewy morn let others love. \nOr bask them in the noon-tide ray ; \n\nThere\'s not an hour but has its charm. \nFrom dawning light, to dying day : \xe2\x80\x94 \n\nBut oh ! be mine a fairer boon \xe2\x80\x94 \n\nThat silent moon, that silent moon ! \n\n\n\nTRANSLATIONS, IMITATIONS, \n\nSic. &c. &c. \n\n\n\n8* \n\n\n\nOp the little pieces which follow, some will be found as \nnearly literal in their rendering, as the just principles of trans- \nlation allow; while others are intended merely as free imita- \ntions of their respective originals. A very few of these, (and \ntwo articles from the former portion of the volume,) have \nappeared in some of the Journals published in this city\xe2\x80\x94 to \nthe Editors of which, the Author\'s thanks are here tendered, \nfor the notice which they have taken of his occasional com- \nmunications, as well as his apology for now collecting and \nrepublishing them, without their permission. \n\n\n\nHYMNS FROM THE LATIN. \n\n\n\n" Tu Trinitatis Unitas." \n\nThree in One, and One in Three, \nSov\'reign of the Universe, \n\nHear our morning minstrelsy. \nListen to our thankful verse. \n\nFrom our couches, lo ! we rise, \nSeeking, \'mid the darkness still. \n\nHelp for our infirmities. \nMedicine for ev\'ry ill. \n\nIf, in dreams, by Satan\'s fraud, \nThought or wish hath gone astray, \n\nLet Thy glorious pow\'r, O Lord, \nWash the secret sin away. \n\n\n\n96 \n\n\n\nKeep our bodies free from stain. \nKeep our hearts from coldness free, \n\nLet no taint of vice inflame \nOur spirits dedicate to Thee. \n\nThus, Redeemer, while we pray, \nFill us with Thy heavenly light. \n\nThen, throughout each circling day. \nThoughts and deeds shall all be right, \n\nAid us. Father, we intreat; \n\nAid us. Thou, eternal Son; \nAid us. Spirit, Paraclete \xe2\x80\x94 * \n\nOne in Three, and Three in One : \nThou, in our behalf engage. \nThou, that reign\' st from age to age! \n\n\n\n* Comforter. \n\n\n\nHVMXr FOR Kooxr. \n\n" Rector potens, verax Deus." \n\nGod of truth, Almighty King, \nLord of each created thing. \nThou that hght\'st the dawning day, \nAnd kindlest high the noontide ray ; \n\nQuench in us each flame of strife, \nBanish ev\'ry ill of life. \nTo each body health impart. \nShed thy peace on ev\'ry heart. \n\nGrant it now, O Holy One ; \nGrant it. Thou, eternal Son 5 \nGrant it. Spirit, we implore \xe2\x80\x94 \nThou that reignest evermore. \n9 \n\n\n\nzsvxsKixra mruK. \n\n" Jam sol recedit igneus." \n\nNow, as sinks the blazing sun, \nThou, eternal Three in One, \nFountain of unclouded day. \nFill us with Thy purer ray. \n\nThee we praise at morning\'s dawn. \nThee implore when eve comes on ; \nGrant us, suppliant here, to raise. \nIn Heaven, unmingled songs of praise. \n\nThus, the Father, and the Son, \n\nAnd the Spirit, Three in One, \n\nAs of old, shall ever be \n\nPrais\'d and worshipped, One in Three. \n\n\n\n" Rex sempiterne coelitum." \n\nMaker of all in Heav\'n and earth, \n\nLord of the hosts on high, \nThou Son, who with the Father art \n\nFrom all eternity, \n\'T was Thou, who, when the world was new, \n\nCreating man of earth. \nDidst give him, in Thine image made, \n\nA soul of heav\'nly birth. \n\nAnd when, by spite and fraud of hell. \n\nThat image was decay\'d, \nVeil\'d in the flesh, \'t was Thou restor\'dst \n\nThe soul Thyself hadst made. \n\n\n\n100 \n\n\n\nGreat Shepherd, who Thy flock dost wash \n\nIn Baptism\'s sacred wave, \nBe this the pool to cleanse our souls. \n\nOf all our sins the grave ; \nThat, buried there with Thee, we may \n\nWith Thee our life resume, \nWho, of a Virgin born, wast made \n\nThe first fruits of the tomb. \n\nRedeemer, Thou who to the cross \n\nDue to our sins wast led. \nAnd there, salvation\'s countless price. \n\nThy precious blood didst shed. \nDo Thou our souls, renew\'d to life, \n\nFrom sin and death set free, \nThat thus Thy endless joy, O Lord, \n\nOur heritage may be. \n\nThen to the Father, and the Son, \nWho rose and reigns in Heav\'n, \n\nAnd to the blessed Comforter, \nShall ceaseless praise be giv\'n. \n\n\n\nFOR THE SEASON OP LENTf \n" Audi, benigne Conditor." \n\nFather of Mercies, hear ! \n\nThy pardon we implore, \nWhile daily through this sacred fast, \n\nOur prayers, our tears we pour. \n\nSearcher of hearts! to Thee \nOur helplessness is known ; \n\nBe then to those who seek Thy face. \nThy free forgiveness shown. \n\nOur sins have numerous been. \nWe own it, Lord, with shame ; \n\nYet spare and heal the broken heart \xe2\x80\x94 \nSpare for Thy glorious name. \n9* \n\n\n\n102 \n\nGrant us, the body so \n\nBy fasting to restrain, \nThat sinful thoughts and vain desires \n\nOur souls no more may stain. \n\nThus, to Thy contrite ones \nThy mercy shall be shown ; \n\nWe ask it, blessed One in Three, \nWe ask it, Three in One. \n\n\n\n" Ecce jam noctis tenuatur umbra." \n\nThe shades of night are flitting fast, \nThe golden east is streak\'d with day, \n\nAnd now, O Lord of hfe and hght. \nWith thankful hearts to Thee we pray. \n\nSinners we are, yet hear us. Lord \nIn pity hear, and send us peace ; \n\nThy saving health to all afford. \n\nAnd bid each sin and sorrow cease. \n\nGrant it eternal Trinity, \n\nThe Father, Son, and Spirit bless\'d, \nWhose glory is, and still shall be. \n\nThrough all the world, with joy confessed. \n\n\n\n" Te lucis ante terminum." \n\nCreator of the world, \n\nAs now the day departs, \nWe ask it for Thy mercy\'s sake, \n\nGuide Thou, and guard our hearts, \n\nLet no foul forms of night, \nIn dreams, our souls beguile, \n\nNor suffer, Lord, our mortal foe \nThy temples to defile. \n\nO Holiest ! grant it now. \n\nAnd Thou, co-equal Son, \nAnd Thou, O Spirit Paraclete \xe2\x80\x94 \n\nEternal Three in One. \n\n\n\nMORKZira muLvt. \n\n" Jam lucis orto sidere." \n\nWith dawning light, O Lord, to Thee \n\nOn bended knee we pray. \nThat Thou from ev\'ry hurtful thing \n\nWouldst keep us through this day. \nGuard Thou from guile our froward tongue. \n\nLest sinful strife arise ; \nGuide Thou our feeble, erring sight, \n\nLest vanity entice. \n\nCleanse, Lord, our hearts from ev\'ry sin, \n\nFree them from folly too. \nAnd let continual temperance \n\nEach carnal lust subdue : \nThat so, when days shall dawn no more, \n\nNor nights their shadows fling. \nFree from the world, and all its stains. \n\nThy praises we may sing. \n\n\n\n106 \n\nFor Thou, O God ! and Thou alone, \n\nArt worthily ador\'d, \nWho, with the Son, and Spirit, art \n\nBut one almighty Lord : \nTo Him, therefore, be glory giv\'n. \n\nWhom virgin mother bore, \nWith Father, and with Holy Ghost, \n\nBoth now and evermore. \n\n\n\nKlTMZr FOR IXnSXTSUITDAV. \n\n" Veni, Creator Spiritus." \n\nCome, Holy Ghost, Creator, come, \nAnd make these souls of ours thy home ; \nCome, fill our hearts with grace divine. \nThou mad\'st them \xe2\x80\x94 own them still as thine \nTo Thee, our Comforter, we cry. \nThe gracious gift of God most High : \nThine is the unction from above. \nThe living fount, and fire of love ; \nSevenfold thy sacred blessings are, \nGod\'s promises thou dost declare. \nHand of the Father, stretch\'d to give \nThat blessed word by which we live. \n\nOh kindle, Thou, each sluggish sense. \nThy love in all our hearts dispense. \n\n\n\n108 \n\nStrong in Thy strength, grant us to bear \nThose ills to which our flesh is heir. \nDrive far away each spiteful foe. \nAnd give us peace while here below. \nThat, led by Thee, O Holy One, \nOur feet each sinful snare may shun. \n\nGrant us the Father now to know. \n\nAnd Son eternal to confess. \nAnd Thee, who from Them both dost flow, \n\nThrough ev\'ry circling year to bless ; \nThat so, to Him who spoiPd the grave. \n\nAnd rose triumphant up to Heav\'n, \nWith Father, and with Holy Ghost, \n\nEternal glory may be giv\'n. \n\n\n\n> \n\n/ \n\n\n\n1 \n\n\n\nft \n\n\n\n" Consors Paterni luminis." \n\nIt \n\n\n\nBrightness of the Father\'s glory. \nLight of Light, unclouded daj, \nJ^LtO ! we rise to sing thy praises ; \nHear us, help us, while we pray. \n\nLighten Thou our mental darkness. \nBid each hellish tempter flee, \n\nRouse our dulness, lest it deaden \nOur devotions. Lord, to Thee. \n\nSaviour, deign to each heliever \nThese, Thy favours, to extend; \n\nAnswer\'d thus, our pray\'rs and praises \nShall for evermore ascend. \n10 \n\n\n\n# \n\n\n\nno \n\n\n\nHear us, Father, we intreat Thee, \nHear us. Saviour, we implore, \n\nHear and help us, Holy Spirit \xe2\x80\x94 \nThou that reignest evermore. \n\n\n\n" Verbum supernum prodiens.\'* \n\nEternal Word, who dost proceed \n\nFrom out the bosom of our God, \nAnd cam\'st, in hour of utmost need, \n\nTo shield us from th\' avenging rod, \nO hghten Thou our darkened hearts, \n\nInflame us with celestial love, \nAnd, as life\'s empty show departs. \n\nFill us with comforts from above. \n\nThen, when th\' uplifted judgment seat \nThe sinner\'s sentence shall display. \n\nAnd voices, as of angels, sweet. \n\nWelcome the saints to realms of day, \n\n\n\n112 \n\nFor us, no quenchless flames shall rage, \nNo fiery storms our rest destroy ; \n\nThy favour, Lord, our heritage, \nThy presence our exceeding joy. \n\nAnd now, to Father, and to Son, \nAnd Spirit, Paraclete, to Thee \xe2\x80\x94 \n\nThe One in Three, the Three in One, \nBe praise throughout eternity. \n\n\n\nMORITZNa HVMIT. \n\n" Veni Creator Spiritus." \n\nCreator, Spirit, come, \nVisit these souls of Thine, \n\nAnd fill the hearts. Thyself hast made, \nWith influence divine. \n\nThou Comforter art calPd, \n\nThe gift of God above ; \nThe spiritual unction Thine, \n\nThe fount and fire of love. \n\nSend down Thy holy fire. \nPour out Thy heav\'nly love, \n\nAnd bear us in our frailty up. \nWith succours from above. \n10* \n\n\n\n114 \n\n\n\nDrive far away each foe. \nAnd give us peace at home ; \n\nBe Thou our guardian and our guide, \nAnd ills shall never come. \n\n\n\nc \n\n\n\nif \n\n\n\n\n\n\n" Creator alme siderum." \n\nCreator of the starry frame, \n\nLight of the souls who trust in Thee, \n\nJesus, Redeemer of mankind. \n\nTo Thee we call, on bended knee. \n\nThou, when the tempter\'s arts prevaiPd, \nDidst hasten down on wings of love, \n\nTo shield and save a ruin\'d world. \n\nWith health and peace from heav\'n above. \n\nAnd Thou, unspotted paschal Lamb, \n\nThe blessed virgin\'s holy son. \nTo wash our souls from stain of sin, \n\nOn shameful cross didst bleed and groan. \n\n\n\n116 \n\n\n\nExalted now, Thy glorious pow\'r \nExtends through all immensity, \n\nAnd saints in heav\'n, and fiends in hell, \nBow at Thy name with trembling knee. \n\nTo Thee, then,* Judge of all, we look; \n\nGrant us Thy heav\'nly help, we pray : \nGuide us in life, and guard in death. \n\nAnd shield us in the judgment day. \n\nFor Thine the glory is, and pow\'r, \n\nEternal Sire, eternal Son ; \nEternal Spirit, thine the praise \xe2\x80\x94 \n\nThe One in Three, the Three in One. \n\n\n\n\' ^ \n\n\n\nFOR \n\n\n\nTHE FESTIVAL \n\n\n\nOF \n\n\n\ni \n\n\n\nTBB BOL7 IiriarOCBIfTS. \n\n" Salvete Acres Martyrum." \n\nThe jealous tyrant hears \n\nThat He, the Prince, has come, \n\nWho wide o\'er Israel\'s tribe shall rule, \nFrom David\'s royal home. \n\nInfuriate then, he cries, \n\n" He \'s come, who claims my throne. \n" Go, soldiers, grasp the glitt\'ring steel, \n" Instant with blood each cradle fill, \n\n" Slay ev\'ry new-born son." \n\nVain was murd\'rous Herod\'s word \xe2\x80\x94 - \nVain was soldier\'s dripping sword ; \n\n\n\n118 \n\nSafe \xe2\x80\x94 while all were slaughtered round, \nGod\'s Anointed was not found. \n\nHail, infant suflPrers \xe2\x80\x94 martyrM flowerets hail ! \nCut off by ruthless knife, \nEv\'n at the gate of life, \n\nYe fell, as new-blown roses fall, when scattered by \nthe gale. \n\nEarliest of all were ye, that suffer\'d for the word ; \n\nSweet firstlings of that slaughter\'d flock, so precious \nto the Lord: \n\nAnd round His heav\'nly altar now, his high, upUfted \nthrone, \n\nYe guileless sport the crown and palm your martyr- \ndom hath won. \n\nTherefore to Him be glory giv\'n. \n\nWhom Virgin mother bore, \nWith Father, and with Holy Ghost, \n\nOne God for evermore. \n\n\n\n1l \n\n\n\n\n\n\nt; ODES, SONNETS, &c. * \n\n\n\nFROM \n\nit- \n\n\n\nTHE GREEK, LATIN, AND ITALIAN. \n\n\n\n* f^ -^ \n\n\n\n^*- \n\n\n\nik4 \n\n\n\n4 \n\n\n\n\n\n\nf < \n\n\n\n^v \n\n\n\n4t \n\n\n\n^ ^-*. \n\n\xe2\x80\xa2\'^f \n\n\n\n\n\n\nTHE "WAVX: FROM OCXSAXV SZSVERXiD. \n\nFROM THE ITALIAN OF METASTASIO* \n" L\'onda dal\'mar divisa." \n\nThe wave from ocean sever\'d \n\nBathes the valley, laves the mountain. \n\nFloats down the stream, a homeless rover. \nOr rests imprisoned in the fountain ; <r \n\nBut wheresoe\'er it roams or rests. \nIn changeless constancy, it mourns. \n\nAnd murmurs, comfortless, till back \nTo its own ocean-bed it turns. \nIts ocean-bed, \nThe fountain head " -rf* \n\nWhence first it flow\'d, forgotten never ; \nAnd where, its weary wand\'rings o\'er, \nBeneath its own, its native shore, \n\nIt hopes to rest, and rest for ever. \n\n11 \n\n\n\nZirSCRIPTIOir \n\nFOR THE TOMB OF A LITTLE GIRL, EIGHT YEARS OLD. \n*\'Oy* sVavi;, U^uTHi f^^Ti^m J\' U afiilvdvct ^^al^av.\'^^ \n\nNo \xe2\x80\x94 I will not deem thee dead, my love, but parted \nfar away, \n\nThrough fairer scenes than earth can yield, for ever- \nmore to stray ; \n\nTo dwell where ceaseless pleasures reign, in unde- \ncaying rest, \n\nAmid the quiet shades of some far island of the blest. \n\nAnd there, I ween, thy little feet, from ev\'ry ill \n\nremov\'d. \nIn frolic mirth now wander, as in infancy they lov\'d ; \nAnd gtill thy httle heart exults amid Elysian bow\'rs, \nAnd still thy little fingers pluck the sweetest, fairest \n\nflow\'rs. \n\n\n\n123 \n\n\n\nOh ! winter comes not there, to chill, with short and \n\ncheerless day ; \nNor summer suns are there, to scorch, with fierce and \n\nsultry ray ; \nNor hunger there, nor thirst, is known, to mar thine \n\nhours of ease ; \nNor, raging in his thousand shapes, the tyrant, fell \n\nDisease. \n\nAnd shall I, though thou M torn from me, my precious \none, repine ? \n\nAlas ! how poor life\'s best estate appears, compared \nwith thine \xe2\x80\x94 \n\nWith thine, who, far remov\'d from all that dims its \ndarken\'d way, \n\nDwellest amid the splendours pure of heav\'n\'s un- \nclouded ray. \n\n\n\nTHB TiaXTMPR OF JUDITH. \n\nFROM THE ITALIAN OF METASTASIO. \n\n" Lodi al gran Dio." \n\nCHORUS OF BETHULIANS. \n\nPraise to Him, the mighty God, \nWho smites, with His avenging rod, \n\nThe heathen hoasting impiously ; \nWho guards BethuUa\'s coasts from harm. \nAnd, with His high and holy arm. \n\nCombats for Israel gloriously. \n\nJUDITH. \n\nThe Assyrian came down from his high mountain hold, \n\nAnd the spearmen of Persia were there in their pride ; \n\nOn the hill-tops a moment exulting they hoverM, \n\nThe plains with the march of their squadrons were \n\ncoverM, \n\nAnd rivers before them were chok\'d up and dried. \n\n\n\n125 \n\nCloudlike were banners so unfurPd, \nAnd such the storm of weapons hurl\'d. \nIt seem\'d that from the face of day \nThe sun in wrath had pass\'d away, \xe2\x80\x94 \nIt seem\'d as if the day of doom \nTo Israel\'s frighted hosts had come. \n\nCHORUS. \n\nPraise to Him, the mighty God, &:c. \n\nJUDITH. \n\n" GalUng chains, devouring flame," \n\nSuch the impious foeman\'s boast, \n" Death, and slavery, and shame, \n\n" Shall desolate Bethulia\'s coast. \n" Happy he, the warrior youth, \n\n" That dies upon the field of glory \n\n" Who the captive\'s tale shall tell ? \n\n" Who the hapless virgin\'s story ?\'* \nThus went the Assyrian war-cry round. \nAnd Israel trembled at the sound. \n\nThe circuit of one little hour \nBlasted all their pomp and pow\'r, \n11^ \n\n\n\n126 \n\nAnd left, like clouds before the wind. \nNo vestige of their host behind. \n\nCHORUS. \n\nPraise to Him, the mighty God, &c. \n\nJUDITH. \n\nVanquished, routed \xe2\x80\x94 see ! they fly ; \nHush\'d is now their battle cry: \nThe proud Assyrian, pale with dread, \nMedes and Persians, all are fled. \nNot before some Titan host, \nNor giants, Anak\'s earth-born boast \xe2\x80\x94 \n\'Twas not the din of warriors\' arms \nFilPd their camp with wild alarms : \nBut a weak and lonely woman \xe2\x80\x94 \n\nSuch the Lord Jehovah\'s might! \nFrom a single Jewish woman \n\nHolofernes\' host took flight. \n\nCHORUS. \n\nPraise to Him, the mighty God, \nWho smote the heathen with his rod ; \nWho fought for Israel gloriously, \nAnd set Bethulia\'s borders free. \n\n\n\nTO THS PEKZKSUIiil. OF SIRMZO. \n\nFROM THE LATIN OF CATULLUS. \n" Peninsularum, Sirmio, insularumque." \n\nFairest of all peninsulas. \n\nEyelet^ of islands, Sirmio ! \nOf all the wide wave bathes, the best, \n\nWhere\'er its varied waters flow : \nSo glad, so joyful my return, \n\nSo fondly I revisit thee, \nI scarce can feel that Thynia left, \nThat from Bithynia\'s valleys reft, \n\nThee once again I safely see. \n\nOh ! feels the heart a happier hour. \nThan when, its ev\'ry sorrow fled, \n\n^ Ocelle \xe2\x80\x94 little eye ; a term of endearment. So Cicero, \n" villulae meae, ocelli Italise." \n\n\n\n128 \n\n\n\nThrown now aside its painful load, \nAccomplish\'d now its weary road, \nReach\'d now the land that gave it birth. \nIts native home, its holy hearth. \n\nIt rests upon its own, its long, long wish\'d-for \nbed? \nOh ! this, for toilsome road and rough, \nAnd labour hard, is meed enough. \n\nHail, then, lovely Sirmio ! \n\nSmile once more upon your lord ; \nLydian waves that round me flow. \n\nYour murm\'ring welcome now afford : \nEv\'ry smile you have, my home ! \nSport it now \xe2\x80\x94 the wanderer\'s come. \n\n\n\nTHE HOPE OF THE IXTZOKED. \n\nFROM THE ITALIAN OF METASTASIO. \n\n" La Speme di malvagi," \n\nThe hope of the wicked \xe2\x80\x94 \nA moment shall blast it, \nWhen the breath of Jehovah \nIn wrath hath o\'erpass\'d it. \nLike smoke, which the winds in their fury are lashing. \nOr foam on the ocean when tempests are dashing. \nIt was \xe2\x80\x94 it is not \xe2\x80\x94 all its glories are o\'er. \nAnd the places which knew it, shall know it no more. \n\nBut the hope of the just \n\nIs establish\'d for ever, \nFor God is their trust. \n\nAnd that trust shall fail \xe2\x80\x94 never. \n\n\n\n130 \n\n\n\nThe heav\'ns at the voice of His thunder may shake. \nAnd earth at the flash of His hghtnings may quake, \nBut their hope and their trust \n\nShall be ever the same. \nUnfailing, unchanging \xe2\x80\x94 \nJehovah, His name. \n\n\n\nTO GROSPHUS. \n\nFROM THE LATIN OF HORACE. \n\n" Otium divos rogat in patenti." \n\nWhen tempests turn the day to night. \nAnd clouds obscure pale Luna\'s light. \nThe sailor, \'mid Egean seas, \nNo star to guide him, prays for ease. \nFor ease the warring Thracian prays, \nAnd Media\'s quiver-bearing race \xe2\x80\x94 \nEase that no gems, nor gold can buy, \nNor robes, my friend, of Tyrian die. \nFor not the hoarded wealth of kings, \nNor state, that titled office brings, \nCan drive those carking cares aloof. \n\nThose vultures of the mind. \n\nThat riot unconfin\'d, \nAnd flit unscar\'d, untam\'d, around the vaulted roof. \n\n\n\n132 \n\n\n\nHow happy he, though small his hoard. \nWhose plate ancestral decks his board, \nWhose tranquil sleep no fears molest. \nNor lawless love deprives of rest ! \n\nRash, short-livM beings that we are. \nWhy cast we still our schemes afar ? \nWhy haste, from clime to clime, to range \nHimself, did exile ever change? \n\xe2\x96\xa0j^o\xe2\x80\x94care will cUmb the brazen poop- \nCare still pursues the mounted troop- \nCare, that is swifter than young hind. \nOr clouds that scud before the wind. \n\nBlest then to-day, seek not to borrow \nOne anxious moment from the morrow. \nBut sooth each grief with gentle mirth\xe2\x80\x94 \nUnmingled bliss dwells not on earth. \n\nEach has his lot. Achilles died, \n\'Mid all his fame, in manhood\'s pride. \nWhile old Tithonus pinM away, \nYear after year, in dull decay. \n\n\n\n133 \n\n\n\nAnd I, though poor, perhaps may see\' \nLong years, denied to wealth and thee : \nThee, purple rob\'d, whose heifers low. \nWhose well-train\'d steeds delighted neigh. \nWhose countless flocks securely stray, \nWhere\'er Sicilian waters flow : \nWhile, for my share, (so fate ordains,) \nThis little farm alone remains \xe2\x80\x94 \nEnough ! since with it, I inherit \nSome sparklings of the Grecian spirit; \nA mind not always slighted by the muse \xe2\x80\x94 \nA soul that spurns the mob, and virtue\'s path \npursues. \n\n\n\n12 \n\n\n\nJROM THE ITALIAN OF TASSO. \n" Donna, crudel fortuna a me ben vieta." \n\nFate binds me here \xe2\x80\x94 Beloved one, farewell! \nYet binds not all \xe2\x80\x94 the fond and faithful heart \nBursts all restraint \xe2\x80\x94 and wheresoe\'er thou art. \n\nIts best affections still delight to dwell. \n\nTo deem thee pensive now, now light of heart. \nNow on the wave, and now along the shore, \nAmid earth\'s stillness deep, or ocean\'s fitful roar, \n\nIs faithful Fancy\'s never tiring part. \n\nAnd when the circle of rejoicing friends \n\nGreet thee with many a smile and sportive kiss, \nHalf pleas\'d, half envious of that lavish\'d bliss, \n\nOne jealous pang \xe2\x80\x94 swift messenger \xe2\x80\x94 she sends : \nHome to the heart the pain\'d affections turn, \nAnd mingled grief and love the throbbing bosom burn. \n\n\n\nXaOVE ASTD DEATH. \n\nFROM THE LATIN OF ALCIATUS. \n\n" Errabat socio Mors juncta Cupidine." \n\nLove and Death \xe2\x80\x94 odd cronies they \xe2\x80\x94 \nMet once on a summer\'s day : \nDeath his wonted weapons bearing, \nLittle Love his quiver wearing ; \nThis to wound, and that to slay, \nHand in hand they took their way. \n\nNight came on. The self-same shed \nFurnish\'d both with board and bed ; \nWhile, beneath a wisp of hay. \nHeads and points, their arrows lay. \n\nEre the morning\'s faintest dawn, \nEach had girt his armour on : \n\n\n\n136 \n\n\n\nBut, with too much haste arranged. \nLuckless chance ! their darts were chang\'d. \n\nLittle space our heroes ran, \n\nEre their archery began. \n\nLove a whizzing shaft let fly \n\nAt a youth with beaming eye : \n\nThe aim was true \xe2\x80\x94 one shriek he gave. \n\nAnd sunk into an early grave. \n\nDeath shot next \xe2\x80\x94 he pierc\'d the core \n\nOf a dotard, past threescore : \n\nThe canker\'d carle his crutch threw by \xe2\x80\x94 \n\nA lover now with am\'rous eye\xc2\xbb \n\n\'\' Ho!" cried young Love, "here\'s some mistake ; \nThese darts of mine sad havoc make." \n"And mine," said Death, "instead of killing, \nServe but to set these bald-heads bilHng." \n\nReader, oft will wanton age \nBring to mind our sportive page ; \nOh! \\hdii youth?s untimely fall \nIts sadder strain should e\'er recall! \n\n\n\nTO DEZiZUS. \n\nFROM THE LATIN OF HORACE. \n\n"-Squam memento rebus in arduis." \n\nThough adversity should harm thee, \n\nStill thy equal mind maintain ; \nThough prosperity should charm thee. \nBe not insolently vain : \nFor whether clogg\'d with sadness, life\'s brief mo- \nments pass us by, \nOr wing\'d with wine and gladness, still, my Delius, \nwe must die. \n\nWhere the pine and poplar blending. \n\nFling their hospitable shade. \nAnd the limpid stream descending, \n\nGently murmurs through the glade, \n12* \n\n\n\n138 \n\n\n\nBring the wine, and perfume rare, with the rose\'s \n\nshort-hv\'d flow\'r, \nWhile the fatal sisters spare, and life lends a summer \n\nhour. \n\nFor soon, the world resigning, \n\nThou shalt leave thy house and lands. \nAnd the well-piPd treasures\' shining, \nTo thy heir\'s delighted hands : \nNor shall fields, dear bought, avail thee, lash\'d by \n\nTiber\'s yellow wave, \nNor thy noble birth preserve thee, from the dark and \nnarrow grave. \n\nOh ! think not then \'twill matter thee \n\nHow low soe\'er thy lot ; \nKor deem that death would flatter thee, \nThough royally begot : \nWhether palace, rich and rare, should receive thy \n\nev\'ry breath \nOr it flit in open air \xe2\x80\x94 ^it is all the same to death. \n\n\n\n139 \n\n\n\nTo his rule we all are destin\'d. \n\nWhether soon or late our turn : \nNor may its lot be questioned \xe2\x80\x94 \nThat inexorable urn ; \nNor the boat that wafts us over to that undiscovered \n\nshore. \nFrom whose eternal exile we return again no more. \n\n\n\nFROM THE ITALIAN OF PETRARCH. \n" La vita fugge, e non s\'arresta un\' ora." \n\nLife flits away without a moment\'s rest, \n\nAnd death with rapid strides comes hastening on ; \nThe past, the present, rend my aching breast, \n\nThe future will when they shall both be gone : \nMemory and hope, alike, by turns perplex. \n\nAnd, truly, did I not sometimes forbear, \nAnd cease, with anxious fears, my soul to vex. \n\nSuch thoughts, long since, had pierc\'d it through \nwith care. \nI look before me \xe2\x80\x94 and my aching heart \n\nSometimes a single cheering ray descries, \n\n\n\n141 \n\n\n\n^Tis vain \xe2\x80\x94 for instant on some other part. \n\nFierce winds to whelm my wave-worn bark arise ; \nAnd when the port is gain\'d, and Fortune won, \nWearied and wreck\'d, each ray that gilds her throne \nis gone. \n\n\n\nVBs :px.sAstntx!s of a coTJvrrBrr x.rFE. \n\nFROM THE LATIN OF HORACE* \n" Beatus ille qui procul negotiis." \n\nHow blest is he who, free from care, \nAs once, \'tis said, ev\'n mortals were. \nUnknown to brokers, bonds or bills, \nHis own paternal acres tills. \nNo midnight storm along the deep, \nNor brazen trump to break his sleep ; \nFar from the Forum\'s pompous prate, \nAnd thresholds of the lordly great, \nThe wanton vine \'tis his to wed, \nTo poplar trim with lofty head. \nAnd, pruning off each worthless shoot. \nEngraft the slip from choicer root* \n\n\n\n143 \n\n\n\nSometimes, where yonder vale descends, \nHis lowing herds, at ease, he tends \xe2\x80\x94 \nShears now his sheep with tott\'ring feet \xe2\x80\x94 \nNow stores the hive\'s deHcious sweet \xe2\x80\x94 \nAnd now, when autumn smiling round, \nErects his head with fruitage crown\'d, \nPlucks with delight the melting pear, \nOr purple grape of flavour rare ; \xe2\x80\x94 \nWhat thanks and offerings then recall \nHis care, who gives and guards them all ! \n\nSometimes, where streams are gliding by, \nStretch\'d on the grass he loves to lie, \nBeneath some old and spreading oak, \nWhere rooks reside, and ravens croak, \nWhile crystal fountains murmur round, \nAnd lull his senses with their sound. \nBut when the raging winter god \nHas sent his snows and storms abroad. \nHe scours the country round and round. \nTo rouse the boar with horse and hound 5 \nWith subtle art, his traps and nets. \nTo catch the tender thrush he sets ; \n\n\n\n144 \n\n\n\nLays for the crane some stouter snare. \nOr takes, delicious treat ! the hare. \n\'Mid sports hke these, unknown to ill. \nWhat love can cross ! what cares can kill ! \n\nBut happiest then, if, while he roam, \nHis wife and children dear, at home \xe2\x80\x94 \n(A modest matron she, and fair. \nDespite alike of sun and air) \xe2\x80\x94 \nThe swelling udder duly drain, \nAnd close the sheltering fold again \xe2\x80\x94 \nPile high with seasoned wood the fire, \nTo warm and dry their wearied sire \xe2\x80\x94 \nThen, fill\'d one small, but gen\'rous cup. \nThe unbought banquet quick serve up. \n\nSuch fare be mine \xe2\x80\x94 I ask no more \xe2\x80\x94 \nNo shell-fish from the Lucrine shore. \nNo turbot rare, nor, driv\'n from far, \nBy eastern winds, the costly char. \nOh ! not the fowl from Afric shore, \nNor grouse from Asiatic moor. \nWere half such luxury to me. \nAs olives pluck\'d from mine own tree^- \n\n\n\n145 \n\nA dish of dock that grows in fallows\xe2\x80\x94 \n\nA dainty mess of wholesome mallows \n\nA joint, on high and holy days, \n\nOf roasted lamb, my board to grace \n\nAnd, now and then, a rescuM kid, \nWhich rav\'ning wolf had stoPn and hid, \n\n\'Mid feasts like these to sit, and see \n\nMy flocks wind homeward o\'er the lea ; \n\nThe sober ox returning first, \n\nWith languid neck, and plough reversed \n\nAnd men and maids\xe2\x80\x94 the farm-house swarm- \n\nAround the hearth-stone gathered warm\xe2\x80\x94 \n\n" What hfe so blest!" cried wealthy B \n\n" Pm done with stocks. A farm for me !" \nCash loaned at/i^e calPd in, he went, \nAnd\xe2\x80\x94 put it out at six percent. ! \n\n\n\n13 \n\n\n\nVTHir "WISH FOR ZiIFXS ^ \n\nFROM THE ITALIAN OF METASTASIO. \n" Perch^ bramar la vita." \n\nWhy wish for Hfe ? has this vain world \nOne source of pure dehght. \n\nWhose ev\'ry fortune has its pang. \nAnd ev\'ry age its bhght ? \n\nTrembUng in childhood at a look. \nIn youth, with love\'s vain fears, \n\nMan walks awhile, the sport of fate, \nThen sinks, oppressed with years. \n\n\'Tis now the strife to win that racks \n\nHis inmost soul with pain ; \nAnd now, far worse, the fear to lose \n\nWhat cost so much to gain. \n\n\n\n147 \n\nThrones have their thorns \xe2\x80\x94 eternal war \nMust gain them, and must guard ; \n\nAnd envy still and scorn are found \nFair virtue\'s best reward. \n\nVain world ! whose dreams and shadows mock, \n\nWhose follies cheat the eye, \nTill age the base delusion shows, \n\nJust time enough \xe2\x80\x94 to die ! \n\n\n\nHARMODIUS ILHD ARISTOGEZTOir. \n\nPROM THE GREEK OF CALLISTRATUS. \n\nEv fAV^TOU KXcttt TO f /^flf ^0^^(r6/, \n\nril wreath my sword with myrtle, as the brave Har- \n\nmodius did, \nAnd as Aristogeiton his avenging weapon hid. \nWhen they slew the haughty tyrant, and regained our \n\nliberty. \nAnd, breaking down oppression, made the men of \n\nAthens free. \n\nThou art not, lov\'d Harmodius, thou art not surely \n\ndead. \nBut to some secluded sanctuary far away art fled. \nWith the swift-footed Achilles, unmolested there to rest. \nAnd to rove with Diomedes through the islands of \n\nthe blest. \n\n\n\n149 \n\n\n\nI\'ll wreath my sword with myrtle, as Aristogeiton did. \nAnd as the brave Harmodius his avenging weapon hid. \nWhen, on Minerva\'s festival, they aim\'d the glorious \n\nblow. \nAnd, calling on fair freedom, laid the proud Hippar- \n\nchus low. \n\nThy fame, belov\'d Harmodius, through ages still \n\nshall brighten. \nNor ever shall thy glory fade, belov\'d Aristogeiton, \nBecause your country\'s champions ye nobly dar\'d \n\nto be. \nAnd, striking down the tyrant, made the men of \n\nAthens free. \n\n\n\n13* \n\n\n\nTO FUSCUS ARISTIUS. \n\nFROM THE LATIN OF HORACE. \n" Integer vitae scelerisque purus." \n\nThe man, my friend, whose hands are pure, \nNeeds not the shaft of tawny Moor; \nNor, arm\'d with innocence of heart, \nAsks he the bow or venom\'d dart. \nHis way may he o\'er sandy plains, \n\'Mid hills where desolation reigns. \nBy fabled stream, or haunted grot, \nSecure in all, he needs them not. \n\nFor me, as, musing, late I stray\'d \nIn yonder Sabine forest\'s shade. \nAnd, casting to the winds all care, \nThought but of Lalage my fair. \n\n\n\n151 \n\n\n\nA wolf \xe2\x80\x94 such horrid portent roves \nNot all Apulia\'s warlike groves ; \nNot such fierce Mauritania\'s coast. \nDry-nurse of monsters, e\'er could boast \xe2\x80\x94 \nLone as I was, and quite unarm\'d, \nTook flight, and left me all unharm\'d. \n\nPlace me henceforth \'mid polar fields, \n\nWhere earth no vegetation yields \xe2\x80\x94 \n\n\'Neath cloud-wrapt skies, where not a breeze \n\nWafts health and fragrance through the trees\xe2\x80\x94 \n\nOr where the tropic\'s ceaseless blaze \n\nBlasts all that basks beneath its rays ; \n\nI\'ll fear no ill \xe2\x80\x94 but think the while \n\nOf Lalage\'s bewitching smile ; \n\nDear to my heart she still shall be, \n\nMy sweetly-speaking Lalage. \n\n\n\nSONXTET. \n\nFROM THE ITALIAN OF PETRARCH. \n" I\' vo piangendo i miei passati tempi." \n\nOh ! I must ever weep the years I\'ve spent \xe2\x80\x94 \n\nYears, whose whole business and deUght was love, \nWhen not an effort stirrM those pinions lent \n\nTo spurn the ignoble crowd, and soar above. \nThou, who my errors and my crimes hast known. \n\nGreat King of Heav\'n, eternal and unseen, \nAid my frail spirit, wand\' ring here alone, \n\nAnd cleanse it graciously from ev\'ry sin. \nGrant that my life, \'mid storm and battle spent, \n\nIn peaceful haven may at last repose ; \nIf this be vain, whate\'er its brief extent, \n\nVouchsafe at least no ignominious close : \nAnd oh ! in death, do Thou my portion be. \nFor, Lord, Thou know\'st my hopes are all in Thee. \n\n\n\nTO THS SPRZira. \n\nAN IDYL, \n\nFROM THE GREEK OF MELEAGER. \n\nXttfietros rivefAotyros aT aUi^ac el^ofAtvoiO, \n\nSee, wakM by stormy Winter\'s parting wing, \nSmiling, \'mid flow\'rs, comes on the purple Spring, \nWhile verdant herbage crowns the dusky earth, \nAnd new-leavM plants are joying in their birth ; \nWhile fertilizing dews refresh the ground. \nAnd early roses bloom and blush around. \n\nGlad, o\'er the hills, the shepherd\'s pipe we hear. \nWhere snow-white flocks in frolic mirth career \xe2\x80\x94 \nCheerly his ocean-path the seaman hails. \nWhile fav\'ring zephyrs fill his swelling sails \xe2\x80\x94 \n\n\n\n154 \n\n\n\nThe Bacchants now, with clustering ivy crown\'d. \nInvoke the genial god with jocund sound \xe2\x80\x94 \nTheir cells of purest wax, prepared with skill, \nThe careful bees with dripping nectar fill \xe2\x80\x94 \nNow wake the featherM tribes their tuneful notes ; \xe2\x80\x94 \nThe queen-like swan, as down the stream she floats ; \nThe halcyon, hunter of old Ocean\'s coves ; \nThe swallow, twitt\'ring from the roof he loves ; \nAnd, Philomela, thou, enchantress of the groves ! \n\nAnd say, while leaves, and buds, and flow\'rs rejoice, \nAnd teeming earth lifts up her glorious voice; \nWhile shepherds warble their delighted lay. \nAnd well-fleec\'d flocks their sportive gambols play ; \nWhile seamen shout, and Bacchants, joyous, throng, \nAnd bees their labour ply, and birds their song \xe2\x80\x94 \nShall 1 no strain to earth\'s glad chorus bring ? \nShame to the Son of Song, that hails not thee, \nO Spring ! \n\n\n\nTHE END. \n\n\n\nLIBRARY OF CONGRESS \n\n\n\n^-m^ \n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n/. \n\n\n\n*> > \n\n\n\n^ >l \n\n\n\n5J \n\n\n\n^^^l^iSK \n\n\n\n^ n \n\n\n\n\n\xe2\x96\xa0>N> \n\n\n\n\xc2\xbb*4g!^ \n\n\n\n.\xc2\xab^v \n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\xc2\xa7 \n\n\n\n'