F-46m 
 
FROM THE LIBRARY OF 
 REV. LOUIS FITZGERALD BENSON. D. D. 
 
 BEQUEATHED BY HIM TO 
 
 THE LIBRARY OF 
 
 PRINCETON THEOLOGICAL SEMINARY 
 
 m 
 
 emotion f^^ 
 
HARMONISE C 
 
 enti£itian MtloXfitu 
 
 AND 
 
 OTHER POEMS. 
 
 4|* 
 
 BY GEORGE BETTNER, M. D. 
 
 .911 truth is precious^ if not all divine^ 
 
 JJnd what dilates the powers, must needs refine. 
 
 COWPER . 
 
 NEW-YORK— M'ELRATH, BANGS & Go 
 
 MDCCCXXXII I, 
 
Entered according to an Act of Congress, in the year one thousand eight hun- 
 dred and lliirty-lwo, by M'Elrath & Bangs, in the Clerk's Office of the Court of 
 the United States, for the SouUiem District of NeW'York. 
 
 r. 08B0RN AND CO., PRINTERS, 
 
 85 Chaihara-Btreet. 
 
*. TO 
 
 WASHINGTON IRVING, L.L.D 
 
 THIS 
 
 VOLUME OF POEMS, 
 
 IS 
 
 RESPECTFULLY DEDICATED, 
 
 BY THE AUTHOR. 
 
PREFACE. 
 
 These effusions are the fruit of leisure hours, which, 
 if not thus employed, might have passed avvay in un- 
 profitable idleness or ease. The utmost that can be ex- 
 pected in regard to them is, that with the reader, they may 
 beguile some pensive moments, as they did with the 
 writer while he was composing them. 
 
 Unable to hope either for fame or favour, the author 
 would not willingly expose himself to censure. The be- 
 lief is however entertained, that the innocent tendency of 
 the work, may be alleged in vindication of the correct 
 intentions which led to its publication. The Melodies 
 are made up of detached pieces ; yet the plan which has 
 been kept in view, and which embraces the component 
 parts together as a whole, will be readily perceived. 
 
 It may be said, that we have already a sufficiency of 
 melodies, "Amatory," "Sacred," "Hebrew," "Pastoral," 
 and even " Indian Melodies." But, perhaps, it will not 
 
 !• 4 
 
VI 
 
 prove a violation of taste, or inconsistent with the legiti- 
 mate ends of poetry, morality, and religion, to add these 
 Christian Melodies to the list. 
 
 To the Harmoniae Caelestes, a variety of miscellaneous 
 pieces have been subjoined. 
 
 Convinced of this truth, that poetry must be estimated 
 entirely by its own intrinsic merit, the production, such 
 as it is, is submitted to the candid judgment of the liberal 
 reader. 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 MELODIES. 
 
 Page 
 
 The Sentinel 13 
 
 The Weeping over Jerusalem 16 
 
 Forgive the Thoughts which Rise 18 
 
 I Marked the Fountain's Gentle Flow 21 
 
 We Sought Thee Sorrowing, oh, my Child - - - 23 
 
 Oh, how we Dread to give to Earth 25 
 
 Never, no Never, may we Fly, 26 
 
 The Sermon on the Mount 28 
 
 The Death Watch - 31 
 
 The Lonely Hour 33 
 
 The Pilgrim's Prayer 36 
 
 Esther 38 
 
 The Morning Dawn 40 
 
 Lazarus 41 
 
 Again, again, it comes again, 42 
 
Vlll 
 
 Page 
 
 The Women at the Tomb 44 
 
 Christ stiUing the Tempest 46 
 
 The Valley of Achor 48 
 
 The Bliss of all our Early Years 51 
 
 Daniel's Prayer 53 
 
 When on Life's dark returnless Shore 56 
 
 In the shadow of Egypt they trusted in vain - - 58 
 
 Shall they who part ne'er meet again 60 
 
 On Patmos' Holy Isle 62 
 
 The Song of the Martyrs - - 64 
 
 The Spoiler came 66 
 
 Potestas Dei 69 
 
MISCELLANEOUS. 
 
 Page 
 Futurity 91 
 
 To a Lady Blushing 94 
 
 Forebodings 95 
 
 To a Friend 98 
 
 On Parting 100 
 
 TheBugloss 103 
 
 Echo to a Painter (from Ausonius) 105 
 
 Lesbia (from the same) 105 
 
 Lais presenting her Mirror to Venus (from the same) 106 
 
 To the Musquitoes 107 
 
 To an absent Sister 109 
 
 The Grave Ill 
 
 The close of Summer 113 
 
 The Eyes and the Heart 116 
 
 " I said I would not sigh again" 117 
 
 Fear and Hope 120 
 
 The Wanderer 121 
 
 The Herald of Winter - 123 
 
 \ 
 
VUl 
 
 Page 
 
 The Women at the Tomb 44 
 
 Christ stiUing the Tempest 4G 
 
 The Valley of Achor 48 
 
 The Bliss of all our Early Years 51 
 
 Daniel's Prayer 53 
 
 When on Life's dark returnless Shore 5G 
 
 In the shadow of Egypt they trusted in vain - - 58 
 
 Shall they who part ne'er meet again 60 
 
 On Patmos' Holy Isle G2 
 
 The Song of the Martyrs - - 04 
 
 The Spoiler came G6 
 
 Potestas Dei 69 
 
MISCELLANEOUS. 
 
 Page 
 Futurity 91 
 
 To a Lady Blushing 94 
 
 Forebodings 95 
 
 To a Friend 98 
 
 On Parting 100 
 
 TheBugloss 103 
 
 Echo to a Painter (from Ausonius) 105 
 
 Lesbia (from the same) 105 
 
 Lais presenting her Mirror to Venus (from the same) 106 
 
 To the Musquitoes 107 
 
 To an absent Sister 109 
 
 The Grave Ill 
 
 The close of Summer 113 
 
 The Eyes and the Heart 116 
 
 " I said I would not sigh again" 117 
 
 Fear and Hope 120 
 
 The Wanderer 121 
 
 The Herald of Winter - 123 
 
 \ 
 
X 
 
 Page 
 
 Unhappiness 125 
 
 Isabel 126 
 
 Ease of Manners 128 
 
 Epigram to a Lady - 129 
 
 Fortune and Folly contending against Virtue and 
 
 Wisdom 130 
 
 L'Amour 132 
 
 The Mariner's Wife 133 
 
 Time and Love 135 
 
 Youth and Age 138 
 
 Isnardia Palustris 140 
 
 Friendship and Love 142 
 
 The World 144 
 
 Nubes Magellanse 146 
 
MELODIES 
 
THE SENTINEL. 
 
 On Zion's hosts whilst slumber falls, 
 
 And winds its deep, enchanting spell, 
 Behold upon her holy walls, 
 
 The lone, the sleepless sentinel. 
 He guards each still, and throbbing breast, 
 
 When no protecting vigil saves ; 
 And in the silent hours of rest. 
 
 His peaceful banner o'er us waves. 
 
 Sweet be the visions of repose, 
 
 And danger eVer distant far. 
 But should there come invading foes. 
 
 He peals the clarion-blast of war. 
 If through your ranks that sound should fly, 
 
 The balmy dreams of sleep dispel, 
 2 
 
11 
 
 It is the ch impiou's battle cry, 
 Tlie 'larum of ihe sentinel. 
 
 Oblivion softly on us steals, 
 
 As pang by pang the life-cords part, 
 And colvi ih' obstructed current feels, 
 
 Congealing round the living heart. 
 The spirit from its prison breaks. 
 
 For froer cliines where it would dwell, 
 When death the fulling victim takes, 
 
 There stands the watchful sentinel. 
 
 The altars where his incense burns, 
 
 The holy altars of our hearts, 
 Though mockery often scorns and spurns, 
 
 Tiie faithful guardian ne'er departs. 
 If in our bo.soms e'er arise. 
 
 The thoughts which murmur and rebel, 
 List, list, for in those bosoms cries, 
 
 The warning of the sentinel. 
 
 Oh, arm with cuir.iss and with shield. 
 And put the sword and helmet on, 
 
 The foe is in the battle field, 
 
 The victory must be lost or won. 
 
15 
 
 No, sleep not now upon your post, 
 
 Who m.i}' his voice and footstf-ps tell? 
 
 Your crown of life and life are lost, 
 If 3'ou neglect the sentinel. 
 
I 
 THE WEEPING OVER JERUSALEM. 
 
 On Olivet He stood and wept, 
 
 O'er Salem's future doom, 
 That all her glory should be swept, 
 
 To ruin and the tomb. 
 
 Lamenting o'er his worship spurned, 
 
 His unrequited love ; 
 Oh, hear the sigh with which he mourned, 
 
 Breathe through the olive grove. 
 
 Wo, that the time should e'er be ripe. 
 
 Predicted by that moan, 
 Or grief for Salem prove the type, 
 
 For sorrows of his own. 
 
17 
 
 But where he stood in pensive wo,'*) 
 Were destined yet to stand, 
 
 Battahons of the armed foe. 
 To sweep her from the hind. 
 
 Thou City of the chosen fold, 
 The pride of Israel's brow, 2) 
 
 Thy sun hath sunk, th}^ talc is told, 
 Where is thy glory now ? 
 
 2* 
 
FORGIVE THE THOUGHTS WHICH 
 RISE. 
 
 Forgive the thoughts which rise, 
 
 Offending if they be, 
 Though oft the heart thy love denies, 
 It looketh up to thee. 
 It looketh up to thee, 
 To whom its pulses tend. 
 When none of earth can hear or see, 
 The suppliant tones ascend. 
 
 Oh, could we but adore, 
 
 Like heaven's angelic host ; 
 Such deep, pure aspirations pour. 
 
 We might not deem us lost. 
 
 Whilst seeking here to fly. 
 From phantoms that we clasp, 
 
19 
 
 The blossoms lovely to the eye, 
 But fading in the grasp. 
 
 Ill, ill the fruit must be, 
 
 We labour to mature ; 
 The issue of the fatal tree. 
 
 Whose upas leaves allure, 
 Where coiled the serpent lies. 
 With poison in his breath, 
 Enticing to the golden prize, 
 
 That tempts us on to death. 
 
 Still waves a flaming sword, 
 
 Where bowers of Eden are ; 
 That earth no solace might afford, 
 No shelter from despair. 
 But pangs within the breast, 
 The sweat drops on the brow. 
 And toils which mock the hopes of rest. 
 Our only portion now. 
 
 We would not back reclaim, 
 A heritage below : 
 
20 
 
 If all its joys should prove the same, 
 Or false as those we know. 
 In that decree we dread, 
 Our revocation lies, 
 'Tis our's to bruise the serpent's head, 
 And triumph when he dies. 
 
I MARKED THE FOUNTAIN'S 
 GENTLE FLOW. 
 
 I MARKED the fountain's gentle flow, 
 As its waters clear were boiling, 
 
 But when I pierced its depths below, 
 A serpent there was coiling. 
 
 I gazed with joy upon the main, 
 The zephyrs o'er it roaming — 
 
 But looking on its waste again, 
 'Twas tempest-tossed and foaming. 
 
 I searched the world's possessions o'er, 
 The prospect was alluring ; 
 
 But disappointed evermore. 
 Found nothing here enduring. 
 
22 
 
 Ah I then an upward glance I cast, 
 To the hallowed hea^^en's turning, 
 
 A tranquil moment o'er me passed, 
 The polar star was burning. 
 
WE SOUGHT THEE SORROWING, 
 OH, MY CHILD. 
 
 We sought thee sorrowing, oh, my child, 
 
 And lonely was the way 
 We trod, to lead thee back again, 
 
 When thou hadst gone astray. 
 
 Th' agony of a breaking heart, 
 
 Our doom it was to feel ; 
 The pang a single moment gives, 
 
 Which years may never heal. 
 
 In bitterness of soul we wept, 
 Thy young and^ guileless years. 
 
 Whilst grief aspired itself to soothe. 
 So generous were its tears. 
 
24 
 
 We'll brave the raging of the seei, 
 We'll cross the burning wild ; 
 
 But never turn our footsteps home, 
 And leave behind our child. 
 
 But lively throbs of joy, my child, 
 
 Shall all the past repay ; 
 We've found thee in temple where^^^ 
 
 Thou can' St not go astray. 
 
OH, HOW WE DREAD TO GIVE TO EARTH. 
 
 Oh, how we dread to give to earth, the body which it gave, 
 And restless here, we shuddering fear, the quiet of the grave, 
 What greater bhss the heart enjoys, when warm it is 
 
 and bold : 
 Yet must it like the marble stone, how soon be turning cold! 
 
 The midge which sports in silvery beams, forgets from 
 
 whence he sprung. 
 So sweet the little moment seems, so joyous and so young, 
 The spell beguiling evermore, the charm that ne'er is sped, 
 He shrinketh from the evening dews, the chilling waters 
 
 tread. 
 
 When looking on the way before, how darkling is the night, 
 And deeply doth the spirit mourn, ere venturing on its flight: 
 But when in freedom it shall float, in yonder calm domain, 
 It smiling often looketh back, but cometh not again. 
 
 3 
 
NEVER, NO NEVER, MAY WE PLY. 
 
 Never, no never, may we fly, 
 
 From Thought's supreme control ; 
 Oblivion's grasp it doth defy, 
 Nor tears can quench it if we try, 
 This watch-fire of the soul. 
 
 Will future happier days repay, 
 
 The labours we bestow? 
 The whirlwind's stream at last may play, 
 To sweep the ripened fields away. 
 
 Though well we toil and sow. 
 
 Our added years give in exchange. 
 
 For all that they destroy ; 
 A mind's far wider, freer range, 
 But with it, feelings which estrange 
 
 From pure and simple joy. 
 
27 
 
 Would what ve live to feel, endure, 
 
 In such a world as this : 
 The bosom's hidden wounds might cure, 
 And in our bondage state insure 
 
 The liberty of bliss. 
 
THE SERMON ON THE MOUNT 
 
 The clouds of terror Sinai wore, 
 
 Rest not on Judah's mountain's brow/^) 
 
 And none may trembling here adore, 
 But come in harmless boldness now, 
 
 To hear such strains of wisdom pour, 
 
 As never have been heard before. 
 
 Bright are the blossoms of the field, 
 In tints of living beauty drest ; 
 The meadow waves its downy breast, 
 
 In tender germs the fruit is sealed. 
 
 The earth with fresh luxuriance blest — 
 
 What riches will the harvest yield ! 
 
 Ah, well may Nature's charms appear. 
 In flowery wreaths on hill and plain, 
 And garlands woven not in vain. 
 
29 
 
 To crown the promise of the year, 
 
 For Nature's sov' reign Lord is here. 
 
 Where all revives to life agaiik 
 
 Let others prove as they incline, 
 
 The creeds and worship that they own f 
 We weep for those who have not known, 
 
 The higher source of truth divine, 
 Nor for redemption look alone, 
 
 To Him that comes in Jesse's line. 
 
 Ne'er did Compassion's tears condemn, 
 -The object fond for which they fell ; 
 Love's kindest accents shall they tell. 
 Who faith's rough torrents cannot steEa^ 
 Would some Siloam were for them. 
 The Sadducee, the Infidel 
 
 Life's purest life here beams for all. 
 But round us see a warning lies — 
 Survey this spot with placid eyes ; 
 
 Here, where our hearts his love recall. 
 How near Gilboa's mountains rise. 
 
 Which once were fatal unto Saul !. 
 3* 
 
30 
 
 Celestial bounty once was found, 
 Where we sublimest truths receive — 
 Gird up the loins, admire, believe, 
 
 This, this indeed is holy ground, 
 Our bosoms with devotion heave, 
 
 Whilst heavenly light is burning round ! 
 
THE DEATH WATCH. 
 
 A VOICE was trembling in my ear, 
 Even now its dying note I hear, 
 It lingers jet, but silently ;^^> 
 
 I mark alone, 
 
 Its dreary tone, 
 Hark, list, oh, tell me, can it be. 
 
 The mellow breath of closing flow'rs, 
 Expiring in their green leaf bowers, 
 Which to the murmuring winds they gave ; 
 
 Or wailing sigh, 
 
 That passed me by, 
 Of spirit roving from the grave ? 
 
 Is this the warning sound, which springs 
 From death's relentless, lightning wings, 
 
32 
 
 The signal to his victim given ; 
 
 Some echoed prayer, 
 
 Borne on the air, 
 Or whisper token sent from heaven ? 
 
 The soft vibrations now expire, 
 
 Like tones which breathe from Memnon's lyre, 
 
 Or like the chant of some lone bird, 
 
 At solemn eve, 
 
 Its dirge doth weave, 
 And o'er the sepulchre is heard 1 
 
 Soul of this life, it thus must be, 
 A spirit's chiming symphony, 
 Shall blend in unison with thine ; 
 
 Ere thou shalt meet, 
 
 With rapture sweet, 
 The swell of golden harps divine ! 
 
THE LONELY HOUR 
 
 The spirit's drooping wings must fall, 
 In heaviness, as once with Saul, 
 But who shall Israel's minstrel bring, 
 To strike the harp's melodious string ? 
 
 The tents of Kedar are more fair, 
 Than e'er the halls of Jacob were, 
 And sweet the song of praise that thrills 
 The hearts that weep on Zion's hills. 
 
 Kind herald of this silent hour, 
 Descending with thy sceptred power, 
 Thy astral robe, thy sable throne, 
 And night winds singing all alone. 
 
34 
 
 Life's watching angels ruled by thee, 
 
 Forget the tone of misery, 
 
 Or lead us more in calmness on, 
 
 As clouds whose thunderbolts are gone. 
 
 Yet not for thee, is it to bless 
 With welcome of forgetfulness, 
 But now to soothe, and then to pain, 
 And rivet memory's iron chain. 
 
 That chain, when we its length survey, 
 Some linklets bright are torn away ; 
 But ah, enough are left behind. 
 To bind to earth the willing mind. 
 
 How doth the vocal earth recall, 
 Our exile lot, the fatal fall ; 
 Oh, well it is, we here were sent, 
 To live, to toil in banishment. 
 
 Beneath the rose's blushing breast. 
 The worm concealed hath built his nest, 
 And those fair leaves shall be the food, 
 To nurse a reptile's growing brood. 
 
35 
 
 Calm spirit of this lonely hour, 
 Of solitude the charm, the power. 
 We learn when we commune with thee, 
 What 'tis we are, what we must be. 
 
 ^ 
 
THE PILGRIM'S PRAYER. 
 
 This wasting life, this heart oppressed, 
 
 To weary, ceaseless travail given ; 
 Oh, when shall come the balmy rest. 
 
 The azure light of heaven ? 
 The fleeting harbinger of bliss, 
 
 Above our pathway we descry; 
 It leads us to the wilderness, 
 
 But leaves us there to die. 
 
 The promised land, the lot of all. 
 
 We toil and suffer to survey ; 
 Yet how like Terah do we fall. 
 
 Whilst travelling on the way ? 
 Ah ! give us here at least to see, 
 
 A prospect of the realms we crave ; 
 Though like to Pisgah's view it be, 
 
 A summons to the grave. 
 
37 
 
 The Arab goes to Mecca's shrine, 
 
 And kneels to kiss a senseless stone ; 
 Jehovah's worship more divine, 
 
 Comes from the heart alone.^^> 
 And long the journey we endure, 
 
 From rising youth, to ripened age, 
 To make our hold of heaven secure^ 
 
 In this our pilgrimage. 
 
 We go with fearless heart to meet, 
 
 The foes that round our footsteps spring, 
 With bleeding bosoms, bleeding feet, 
 
 To make life's journeying. 
 If thus our destiny be cast, 
 
 This wrestling of the soul arise, 
 Be it the Palmer's lot at last. 
 
 To win the crown and prize f 
 
ESTHER. 
 
 The monarch chose the brightest star,^> 
 
 That eastern cHrnes could own ; 
 A captive maiden from afar, 
 
 The partner of his throne. 
 Her lofty eye, and matchless zone, 
 Formed not the theme of praise alone ; 
 Far nobler were the valiant pride, 
 And daring of the queenly bride. 
 
 'Twas her's, the warm, the impelling zeal, 
 
 Of constancy the test. 
 The feeblest of his children feel. 
 
 If once they are oppressed. 
 When Danger's frowning mien defies, 
 Its own deliverance it supplies ; 
 That fearless valour lights its path, 
 Which smote the champion chief of Gath. 
 
39 
 
 The days of Purim all may fail, 
 Perpetual though designed, 
 Yet what of earth shall countervail, 
 
 The heaven directed mind? 
 But ah, the pride which Jacob bore, 
 Shall ne'er the arm of strength restore, 
 Must Israel ever weep alone, 
 No guardian angel near the throne ? 
 
 The Magi travelling came to view, 
 The light which led them on, 
 
 It is the same that we pursue, 
 Its lustre is not gone. 
 
 See how its twinkling beam appears. 
 
 Effulgent in this vale of tears ; 
 
 And ne'er in ocean depths shall set, 
 
 That ever glittering coronet. 
 
THE MORNING DAWN. 
 
 In the twilight a radiance is streaming afar, 
 On the verge of the morning yet loiters its star, 
 There it lingers still lovely, ere its course is yet run, 
 And it smiles on the red curtained couch of the sun. 
 
 Through a pathway of clouds will his chariot be driven, 
 In the track of his speed, the proud herald of heaven. 
 And the chambers of darkness will be brilliant and bright, 
 And worlds shall be blest with his warmth and his light. 
 
 On the darkness within, will there burst the full dawn, 
 Ere life's cunning charm in its sweetness is gone, 
 Ere the sound of the grinding grows low at the mill, 
 And the wheel at the cistern hangs broken and still ! 
 
 The dew wind in freshness, springs up from the dale, 
 Above U3 and near us, rejoicings prevail. 
 With the notes of the choir, which re-echo around, 
 Let "the breath of our faith" rising upward be found. <^) 
 
LAZARUS. 
 
 Before the tomb where Friendship sleeps, 
 The Saviour bows — he bows and weeps, 
 'Tis thus he mourns for those that die. 
 When none to soothe or save are nigh. 
 
 What tenderness reserved for iheey 
 Thou humble one of Bethany ! 
 Heaven never shone in brighter beam, 
 From Tabor's mount or Jordan's stream. 
 
 " Hadst thou been here, he had not died" — 
 What agony his bosom tried ! 
 On heaven he called, nor called in vain, 
 The dead walks forth to life again. 
 
 His bands are loosed, and freed he goes ^ 
 To share the world's unpitied woes, 
 To feel the pangs that flesh must brave, 
 And find his Paradise the grave. 
 4* 
 
AGAIN, AGAIN, IT COMES AGAIN 
 
 Again, again, it comes again, 
 
 This silent touch of feeUng"; 
 The clanking of the spirit's chain, 
 The thriftless struggles all in vain, 
 
 The frost dew on me stealing. 
 
 The hidden spell will ne'er depart, 
 
 But cannot be consoling ; 
 This drop of black blood in the heart,^^) 
 It must, the death pang must impart, 
 
 Beyond our own controlling. 
 
 And is it thus, to know, to feel, 
 
 The life of dust decaying ; 
 To stretch the bosom's chords of steel,^^^) 
 And though we rend them, not reveal 
 
 The ruin on us preying ? 
 
43 
 
 What is the refuge we have sought, 
 With hopes of its composing ? 
 
 The fiend-like joy of demon thought, 
 The manacles that it has brought, 
 
 The dungeon round us closing. 
 
 No, not again are we e'er free, 
 The mind if once is soaring ; 
 It lives in bitter ecstacy, 
 While ever sadly we must be. 
 Our prison home deploring . 
 
THE WOMEN AT THE TOMB. 
 
 'Tis finished, and 'twas not in vain/^') 
 
 The temple's vail was rent in twain, 
 
 Or mid-day darkness settled round. 
 
 Or earthquakes shook the trembling ground — 
 
 The golden beams of morn appear, 
 
 To gild the Holy Sepulchre. 
 
 While incense blends with morning's breath, 
 They seek that rocky hold of Death ; 
 But vain will be their pious care, 
 Their martyred Master sleeps not there, 
 The stars that dawned upon his birth. 
 Have hailed his transit from the earth. (^2) 
 
 Ah, dost thou doubt if true it fell, 
 The last, the crowning miracle ? 
 With Cephas to the tomb repair,^'^) 
 It yawns upon the open air, 
 
45 
 
 The folded shroud approves his word, 
 It once arrayed the risen Lord. 
 
 But lo, before their weeping eyes, 
 The angels yet abiding rise, 
 They marked their silent tears and said, 
 " Ye seek the living 'mongst the dead, 
 O, let his words remembered be, 
 Which once he spake in Galilee." 
 
 " Yes risen, risen, seek him not. 
 
 In this sepulchral, dreary spot, 
 
 To Emmaus he goes to day,<^'*) 
 
 To speak with travellers on the way, 
 
 Though noiseless as his footsteps are, 
 
 Their burning hearts shall feel him there." 
 
CHRIST STILLING THE TEMPEST. 
 
 'Tis night, and lo, upon the sea, 
 
 The lone, dark sea, 
 The storm is howling fearfully, (^^) 
 
 And they upon the tossing wave, 
 Whose hoary top breaks heavily, 
 Hark to the wind's tempestuous roar, 
 And see the beating deluge pour. 
 But find no arm outstretched to save, 
 No rescue from an awful grave. 
 
 Earth, ocean, heaven, where, oh, where. 
 
 His refuge now. 
 Fear stills the heart and knits the brow, 
 
 To whom his safety shall prefer, 
 When drear and desolate despair. 
 
 Appals the hopeless mariner [ 
 
47 
 
 Peace, peace, be still — be still in peace, 
 
 A voice is heard — 
 The stormy winds obey his word, 
 
 A radiance bursts forth from heaven's dome, 
 And waters wild and raging, cease 
 
 To rise and wrestle in their foam. 
 
 Light of the world, the light of all, 
 
 Beneath the skies, 
 When darkened tempests shall befall, 
 
 And ruin threatens to o'erwhelm, 
 'Tis bliss to see above us rise. 
 
 The beaming star of Bethlehem. 
 
 « 
 
THE VALLEY OF ACHOR. 
 
 In the Valley of Achor, 
 A hope yet remains S^^^ 
 
 Jehovah, our maker, 
 Protects 'and sustains. 
 
 There is beauty for ashes, 
 
 For mourning is joy ; 
 And the cloud-bolt which flashes, 
 
 Shall never destroy. 
 
 The deep, deep source of wo, 
 Is concealed in the breast, 
 
 Yet beside it shall flow, 
 The sweet fountain of rest. 
 
 Frail daughters of Judah, 
 How vainly they mourned ; 
 
49 
 
 When for idols they sought, 
 And Jehovah was spurned. 
 
 When for Tammuz they wept, 
 And affliction they bore,^^^ 
 
 That in darkness he slept. 
 Iridescent no more. 
 
 To the God of the Just, 
 Our pure altars we raise ; 
 
 And a spirit divine, 
 Is the spirit we praise. 
 
 Nought of earth can control, 
 The impulses it brings; 
 
 And the bliss of the soul, 
 Is the light of its wings. 
 
 In the Valley of Achor, 
 
 A bright star-light shall fall 
 
 The ReJeemer, our Maker, 
 Will illumine it all. 
 5 
 
50 
 
 And He will not depart, 
 Though the darkness bedim 
 
 For the lowliest in heart, 
 Are the dearest to Hina. 
 
THE BLISS OF ALLOUR EARLY 
 YEARS. 
 
 The remembrance of youth is a sigh.— Arabian Provkrb. 
 
 The bliss of all our early years, 
 
 So undisguised and gay, 
 The memory of a dream appears, 
 
 So soon it flies away. 
 Our years decline, and hope displays, 
 
 Its semblances in vain ; 
 For oh, the light of younger days, 
 
 N^'er comes to us again. 
 
 The holy choir, whose ceaseless songs, 
 Fill all the realms above ; 
 
 To them the changeless form belongs, 
 Of youthfulness and love, 
 
52 
 
 Whilst here in life's o'erclouded day, 
 The thought we must endure, 
 
 That we were once as bright as they, 
 As innocent and pure. 
 
DANIEL'S PRAYER. 
 
 The idol-worship in the land, 
 
 Its votaries obeyed ; 
 And where the Paynim altars stand, 
 
 The homage vows are paid. 
 But one was there who still alone, 
 Knelt down before the Holy One ; 
 
 Though shouts of triumph rent the air/^^) 
 The loud acclaim, the prophet spurned. 
 To Salem's banished towers he turned, 
 
 And fervent was his prayer. 
 
 " Though in a foreign clime we be, 
 
 And captive may remain ; 
 Our faith, Almighty, is in thee, 
 
 To guide us and sustain, 
 God of our fathers and our own, 
 Leave not thy people e'er alone, 
 •5 
 
54 
 
 Oh, let thy chariot-wheels appenr; 
 Though Israel haih thy favour known, 
 To all the world thy power is shown, 
 
 Nor wanting is it here. 
 
 On Dura's plain the image stood, 
 Which nations bowed before ; 
 But where is now the worshipped God, 
 
 Or they that did adore ? 
 The burning furnace could not slay, 
 The children of the covenant — they 
 Who bended knee, nor heart would yield, 
 But thine it was, thine own decree. 
 With beasts the Babel king should be, 
 His portion in the field. 
 
 And when on Shinar's borders rose. 
 
 The burst of revel rnirth ; 
 Thine honor was profaned of those. 
 
 The noble called of earth. 
 How did the stroke of terror fall, 
 As writing gleamed forth on the wall, 
 
 The letters from thy secret hand, 
 
55 
 
 Which to the festal monarch came, 
 The glowing marks of light and flame, 
 The words of thy command 1 
 
 Here, where thy terrors were portrayed, 
 
 Though none are found to heed ; 
 Let thy broad bann :rs bo displayed, 
 
 Before the haughty Mede. 
 Thou canst deliver us again, 
 Canst rescue from the lion's den, 
 
 Arid set the guiltless prisoner free ; 
 Our refuge — hope — our happiness. 
 Let cheins confine, If^t foes oppress, 
 
 In thee, we trust in thee." 
 
WHEN ON LIFE'S DARK RETURN 
 LE SS SHORE. 
 
 When on life's dark returnless shore, 
 
 We pause with hngering looks to see, 
 The billows rolling on before, 
 
 The flood-tide of eternity : 
 What startling visions then arise, 
 Before the dim and clouded eyes, 
 The truths unseen, unheard, untold, 
 Which all the living must behold. 
 But fear to realize! 
 
 The last reverted glance is thrown, 
 On all that we have felt or borne : 
 
 The changeless truth appears alone, 
 Of every false illusion shorn ; 
 
 The decp'ning shade, the dark impress, 
 
 The winding sheet, the burial dress, 
 
57 
 
 Mcmoiials which avail to prove, 
 
 The riven cords of human love, 
 
 Our utter nothingness. 
 
 The puloc is still, the eye is closed, 
 
 And not a throb the bosom heaves. 
 Where once the livin<^ tiame reposed, 
 
 But noH' the citadel it leaves. 
 Bow down the heart — draw near. 
 And shed the pure, the holy tear. 
 That loved and cherished torm survey- 
 What olTering have we for this clay 1 
 The cerement rube and bier. 
 
IN THE SHADOW OF EGYPT 
 THEY TRUSTED IN VAIN. 
 
 In the shadow of Egypt they trusted in vain, 
 in the strength ot the heathen^the valiant were slain, 
 The gods that they sought, the idols they made, 
 Thy people, oh Lord, to confusion betrayed. 
 
 They thought of the altars their fathers had known, 
 
 Whose incen§e arose to Jehovah's pure tl 
 
 And lone in the land of the stranger, they' 
 
 O'er the vows pledged in Shechem they never had kept. 
 
 eyHW^ 
 
 The voice of the prophet, reproof of the seer, 
 Came down like the terrors of death on the ear, 
 And the sound of their wailing was loud in despair, 
 But no ministering angel of Bethel was there. 
 
59 
 
 Shall the foes of thy worship thy people pursue? 
 Once more, oh Eternal, thy covenant renew ; 
 The broken in faith, shall thy vengeance yet smite, 
 But the broken in heart are still dear in thy sight. 
 
SHALL THEY WHO P 4 R T, NE'ER 
 MEET AGAIN. 
 
 Shall they who part, ne'er m'-et again, 
 
 In some allotted sphere ; 
 And there the plighted lo\c reclaim. 
 
 Which made them happy hcio? 
 
 We've fell when spirits fiom on high, 
 To us their bhss have given ; 
 
 Oh, then we've often felt how nigh 
 Our earth must be to heaven. 
 
 And if they came, those spirits bright. 
 
 Their tidings good to trll ; 
 We too have sometimes I.i'lmi our flight, 
 
 To seek them where they dwell. 
 
61 
 
 The thought of being where they are, 
 Hath made our bosoms burn ; 
 
 And well we know, when we go there, 
 We will not back return. 
 
ON PAT M OS' HOLY ISLE 
 
 On Patmos' holy isle, 
 
 A voice from heaven was heard ; 
 And worlds on worlds unknown, 
 
 To mortal view appeared. 
 And lo, their mysteries, 
 
 All one by one unroll ; 
 And, like familiar things, 
 
 Seem written on a scroll. 
 
 The prophet there beheld, 
 
 The vision of that day^ 
 When earth, and sea, and sky, 
 
 Shall all be swept away. 
 When dead and living — all, 
 
 Their wailing notes shall pour, 
 And echo swell the sound. 
 
 That lime shall be no more. 
 
63 
 
 Behold on Zion's mount, - 
 
 The Lamb is seen again ! 
 But not the multitude, 
 
 Who mocked when He was slain. 
 But round the eternal throne, 
 
 The Cherubim arise ; 
 And harp and voice proclaim, 
 
 The anthems of the skies. 
 
 Blessed herald of the cross, 
 
 The chosen and approved ; 
 The Saviour's cherished friend, 
 
 Whom looking on He loved: 
 Oh, would that like to thee, 
 
 The favour we might share, 
 To view that purer world, 
 
 And look in transport there i 
 
THE SONG OF THE MARTYRS 
 
 Light up the martyr's funeral pile, 
 
 Consume the victim at the stake; 
 No murmur shall we breathe the while, 
 
 Though round us quenchless flames may break 
 For kindling up its proud disdain, 
 The soul will spurn the fiery pain. 
 
 Oppressors, who aspire to wield 
 The javelin of the maddened king ; 
 
 A mightier arm shall safely shield, 
 From all the weapons which ye bring. 
 
 The God that watches o'er his own, 
 
 Will place the anointed on the throne. 
 
 If in the flames we' shall expire, 
 It is a speedier aid they'll lend ; 
 
65 
 
 That in the prophet's car of fire, 
 
 To brighter worUls wc rnay ascend ; 
 And this last sacrifice we give, 
 To make our faith increase and live.^'^) 
 
 We'll shrink not from the burning brand, 
 Though long it agonize the heart ; 
 
 But firm and fearless will we stand, 
 To shame the apostate's faithless part, 
 
 Our's is the sacred cause to claim 
 
 Alone, the martyr's wreath and fame.(^) 
 
 These lingering pangs shall death suffice — 
 The Christian's rest, his home of prayer j 
 
 In yon illumined Paradise, 
 
 Tis our's the first to enter there, <2i) 
 
 And earthly conflicts we contemn, 
 
 To gain a starry diadem. 
 
 6»' 
 
THE SPOILER CAME 
 
 (e P I C E D I U M .) 
 
 The spoiler came at dead of night, 
 
 And waved his baleful wing ; 
 And see — it droops beneath the blight, 
 
 The blossom of the spring ! 
 There, by the fountain low it lies, 
 
 Where once it proudly grew ; 
 But ah, no more its petals rise, 
 
 Fresh in the morning dew. 
 Away hath the Destroyer flown, 
 
 Whilst we the ruin view; 
 Our hearts with sorrow bleed alone, 
 
 He would not slay them too. 
 
 We'll strow with flowers thy early tomb, 
 Memorials shall they be ; 
 
G7 
 
 As transient as their wasting bloom, 
 
 Were all our hopes of thee. 
 Those flowers shall moulder in the dust, 
 
 We nurture them in vain ; 
 Plucked ere their seeds were ripe, they must 
 
 In buried earth remain. 
 But thou shalt thrive in life and love, 
 
 Nor brief shall be thy reign. 
 In those unchanging climes above. 
 
 We struggle to regain. 
 
 Where thy unprisoned spirit flies. 
 
 Where sinless seraphs live ; 
 If there, our murmuring voice shall rise. 
 
 Let Mercy's smile forgive. 
 The human love that vainly errs, 
 
 In its response to thine, 
 Since heaven unto its truth avers, 
 
 It something seems divine. 
 The impulse of that life desire, 
 
 We cherish and refine ; 
 We feel the kindling of its fire, 
 
 Though dimly here it shine. 
 
68 
 
 There's one on whom our hope is stayed, 
 
 Our tears shall fall no more ; 
 And lovely is the valley made, 
 
 Where He hath gone before. 
 No longer are his garments red, 
 
 Though once in Bozrah dyed ; 
 No longer droops the holy head, 
 
 Or bleeds the wounded side ; 
 But risen to the realms of light, 
 
 Enthroned and glorified, 
 Where yonder tuneful spheres invite. 
 
 With thee, we would abide. 
 
POTESTAS DEI 
 
 Deus est sinus quidani naturcc, in seii)so, coniineiis omnia. 
 
 Lactantic: 
 
 Above, around, within, abroad, 
 
 Is felt the presence of our God ! 
 
 The heaven of heavens his throne on high, 
 
 And earth is cradled in the sky. 
 
 Oh, should we on the morning wind, 
 
 Far as it sweeps repair ; 
 x\nd trace each dim and viewless sphere, 
 
 That wheeleth through the air: 
 Or seek the place v/here darkness hides, 
 Or search the depths of ocean's tides, 
 Thy hand, Eternal, we should find, 
 
 To hold us every where. 
 The sea, the air, the stars that shine 
 
 In night's illumined path ; 
 Are emblems of thy power divine. 
 
 Or ministers of wrath. 
 
70 
 
 The offspring of the race are we, 
 
 Thy judgments overthrew ; 
 O, shield us from thy vengeance, God, 
 
 Nor let it strike anew ! 
 
 We gaze upon the rolling clouds, 
 Which not a shade of terror shrouds, 
 Though from them once the torrents came, 
 And thunder-bolt and lightning flame, 
 O'er whelmed the world below : 
 To us they now serenely glow, 
 And glitter with the covenant bow. 
 The sun that rules the subject orbs, ^ 
 
 Himself subjection feels ; 
 On Gibeon, in the battle hour, 
 
 He stops his burning wheels ; 
 Whilst warring hosts their standards rear, 
 And wield the flashing sword and spear, 
 Till moonbeams shed their mellow light 
 Upon the fallen Amorite ! 
 
 Jehovah, often is thine arm, 
 
 Thy holy arm, made bare. 
 To rescue from impending harm, 
 
 The people of thy care. 
 
71 
 
 For them, e'er since " creation's dawn," 
 Each work of thine is meant ; 
 And when beneath Oppression's hand, 
 They suffer in a stranger's land, 
 
 And each last lingering hope is gone — 
 Deliverance is sent. 
 Thy mercies, never ceasing, rise 
 Like stars which light the boundless skies, 
 Thine everlasting realm : 
 Or like the drops which fill the sea^ 
 Or years which build eternity. 
 We cannot number them. 
 
 The water streams from Horeb's rock, 
 
 The fire descendeth like the rain ; 
 The altars at thy presence smoke, 
 
 The sea and rivers cleft in twain, 
 I hear a rush of armed steeds, 
 And foes that march to martial deeds, 
 And shout they many an impious word, 
 Who dare to battle with the Lord ! 
 O, Egypt, was it all in vain, 
 Thou wept'st thy elder offspring slain, 
 
72 
 
 And felt the wrath of heaven, that sped 
 Its vengeance on thy guilty head ? 
 Thy warriors go, and leave behind, 
 
 Too many who will weep ; 
 And pour their wailing on the wind, 
 And curse the treacherous deep, 
 But pray that its high watery wall, 
 Might overwhelm them in its fall I 
 And hark, a sound of joy is sent, 
 O'er the victorious element ! 
 'Tis Israel's flushed, exulting ranks,- 
 That crowd the red sea's sloping banks, 
 And through their tents, loud, clear, and free- 
 Floats Miriam's song of jubilee. 
 O, could they in their triumph boast, 
 
 A fond, perspective glance; 
 And see each future, hostile host, 
 
 Thus fall as they advance, 
 The Canaan in his mountain hold : 
 
 Or Syrians in their might. 
 Bestrow the damp ground, dead and cold, 
 
 Whilst under arms at night — 
 Their hymns of praise would higher swell. 
 And loader tones of gladness tell. 
 
73 
 
 Almighty, changeless evermore, 
 
 All time, and space, and power in Thee ; 
 Whom all acknowledge and adore, 
 
 But none can know or see, 
 "The mind, the heart, our feeble sense, 
 Bow down to thine Omnipotence ! 
 The solemn awe, that Israel felt. 
 
 Our heaving bosoms feel. 
 When tribe by tribe, they lowly knelt, 
 
 And heard the thunder's peal ; 
 And gazing up from Sinai's base, 
 Beheld the veiling of thy face. 
 And, ah, it were a glorious sight, 
 
 Which other days afford. 
 To look on Carmel's holy height. 
 And hail the prophet's heaven-ward flight, 
 
 The chariot of the Lord : 
 And in its wake of fire and light, 
 To mark what proof of lasting love, 
 Is left us, as it mounts above. 
 To us, to us, there's many a pledge, 
 
 And lively token given. 
 To call our thoughts away from earth, 
 And lift them up to heaven. 
 , 7 
 
74 
 
 Retrace the course of ages buck, 
 
 tleflect on their crreer : 
 What emblems brighten in their track, 
 
 What mighty deeds appear ; 
 What vows were made, what aUars built, 
 To purchase pardon for our guilt ! 
 Time was when all was darkness here, 
 
 No glowing hopes the prospect crossed, 
 And when the young, the infant world, 
 
 Gave signs of wo that all was lost. 
 Then, on the ruined and betraj^ed, 
 
 Celestial visions beamed ; 
 The promises of heaven were made, 
 
 And are they not redeemed ? 
 Yes, o'er Judea's pastoral plain, 
 Resounds the loud, triumphant strain, 
 Sweeter than notes divinely flung, 
 From David's minstrel strings: 
 Or seraph song, when softly sung. 
 
 By angels on their wings. 
 Oh, well it is that they rejoice. 
 The heavenly host of morn ; 
 And lisp creation's merry voice. 
 The Promised One is born. 
 
76 
 
 Behold, the "wise men" come lo greet, 
 And yield their homaf^e at His feet — 
 With them we kneel, with them we bow, 
 Our humbler praise to offer now. 
 An J join that choir, whose song shall be, 
 A deep, eternal melody. 
 
 Ah, ye, whom vain allurements please, 
 
 Or dark and guilty pissions guide ; 
 Who tread the flowery paths of ease. 
 
 Or nurse a heart of scorn and pride — 
 Are there no truths for ye to learn, 
 
 No cherished hopes to move : 
 No zeal, to make your bosoms burn, 
 
 With rapture and with love ? 
 Let Pleasure pander to your will, 
 
 Corrupt, debase, conceal ; 
 Yet Conscience is undying still, 
 
 And forces us to feel 
 Q,uench not its light, its vivid glow, 
 Is the best sense of heaven we know. 
 
 Roll back ye mighty waves of time. 
 Ye surges be repelled ; 
 
76 
 
 And bear me to those scenes sublime, 
 
 Solyma once beheld : 
 And let my meditations, be 
 On Bethlehem and Gethsemane. 
 The Saviour comes but not in pride, 
 With thousands marshalled at his side, 
 He comes alone, in lowliness, 
 To soothe, to heal, to save, to bless, 
 To teach vain man the world was trod, 
 By Nature's Child, and Nature's God. 
 He holds the keys of life and death, 
 And stills the tempest with his breath, 
 The King supreme of kings is He, 
 The Everlasting Deity ! 
 Creation owns his sovereign sway, 
 And proves the Power, we disobey. 
 For Him is reared no lofty throne, 
 
 No diadem adorns ; 
 Alone, He treads the earth alone. 
 
 His coronal of thorns. 
 Ye stars that shouted at his birth, 
 I hear no more your joyous mirth ; 
 The gladdening sounds that once were sent, 
 From the bright chrystal firmament. 
 
77 
 
 But noon-day darkness shrouds the skies, 
 And earthquakes rend the guilty earth. 
 The living quake, the dead arise : 
 What mean these dreadful agonies? — 
 'Tis done, the unholy work is done, 
 Oh, God, behold thy martyred son, 
 On Calvary He dies 1 1 
 
X T E S 
 
 (1) But vkere Me ^t/ocd im pe-meire wa. 
 Went dexltimsd yd to ^immd^ 
 BatAaUoBS ofikt arwucdfot^ 
 Tb sweep kerjrmm, the iamd. 
 The place wbem oar Saviour stood am. IIk maaat. and wept over 
 JcnBakm, wasdiesuiiespiAtDwinc^lientiiedtopEijmhiBagoaj 
 
 tbe pcenooB iraiaeL It wasondwsaiKipit, afan, that tfaearBjof 
 TUm, die Boman EoipenK, pUcfaed tfaor teals, wioi thej came 
 a^UMt tfce bofy dij to destnj.iL 
 
 il k lonikaliie, diat tiK aeeoMd tenffe, oi^iiia% bolt % Zend»- 
 tobei after the capliiity, and snh H B Htt e mly npained li^ Qeiiod, ^oold 
 baicbecn denofieiied, A. D. 13, on tke sai 
 daj offbe nMBth, dnt the fiEHt^or Sobnan^'s ' 
 to the gnnmd fay die BahflouanL 
 
 F. Banie's .faCrorfwtira, toL u. ppu 238-31. 
 
 (2) TUm dtf mfOe ekatemJmU, 
 The pride ^brmd's knm. 
 Tke devotad attnefanait and 
 lMHdi> and the holy atj, are thns drsirrihwd fay 
 
 "Bod&dw first i 
 wididKh^^ 
 tenple and Sat JcmsaleB, widan whose walk it 
 
 BabyioDBhcapliiiiyi and of their ptofiiandvcaaationfiv die ; 
 temfle, we have repeated min|iirff in the ICcw TedtaneaL TVey 
 
80 
 
 it. The least injurious slight of it, real or apprehended, instantly 
 awakened all the choler of a Jew, and was an affront never 'o l>e for- 
 given. Our Saviour, in the course of his public instructions, hap- 
 pening to say, ' Destroy this temple, and in thrre days I will raise it 
 again,' it was construed into a contemptuous disrespect, d. signedly 
 thrown out against the temple : his words instantly descended into 
 the heart of a Jew, and kept ranklijig there for several years : for 
 upon his trial, this declaration, which it was impossible for a Jew 
 ever to forgive or to forget, was immediately alleged against him as 
 big with the most atrocious guilt and impiety ; they told the court 
 they heard him publicly assert, I am able to destroy this temple. 
 The rancour and virulence they had conceived against him, lor this 
 speech, which they imagined had been levelled against the temple, 
 was not softened by all the aiiecting circunjstances of that excrucia-' 
 ting and wretched death, they saw him die : even on the cross, with 
 infinite triumph, scorn and exultation, they upbraided him with it, 
 contemptuously shaking their heads and saying, ' Thou that destroy- 
 est the temple and bulkiest it in three days, save thyself If thou be 
 the son of God, come down from the cross.' " 
 
 Home, vol. iii. p. 232. 
 
 (3) We've found thee in the temple where 
 Thou canst not go astray. 
 
 The Jews throughout the country were in the habit of repairing ta 
 Jerusalem, to celebrate the great festivals, such as the passovtr, the 
 feast of the pcntecost, and the feast of the tabernacles. For greater 
 security, however, against the attacks of robbers on the roud, they 
 used to travel in large companies ; those who came from the same 
 city, canton, or district, forming a party of themselves. 
 
 They carried necessaries along with them, and tents for lodging at 
 night. It was among such a company that Joseph and Mary ^sought 
 Jesus Christ. This account of the Israelites mode of travelling, fur- 
 nishes a ready answer to the q^uestion, how Joseph and Rjary could 
 make a day's journey, without discovering before night that Jesus was- 
 not in the " company." In the day time, as circumstances might 
 lead them, the travellers would probably mingle with their friends 
 and acquaintance, but in the evening, when they were about to en- 
 camp, every one would join the family to which he belonged. 
 
81 
 
 As Jesus di4 not appear, when it was growing late, his parents 
 first sought him, where they supposed he would probably be found, 
 among his relatives and acquaintances, and not linding him, returned 
 to Jerusalem. 
 
 V. Home's Introduc. and CampbeWs Translation of the Gospels. 
 
 (4) The clouds of terror Sinai wore, 
 
 Rest not on Judah's mountain's brow. 
 . Henry, in his Commentary on the Bible, introduces the subject of 
 our Saviour's sermon (Matt. 5,) by a singular periphrasis. This 
 chapter, says he, commences with a sermon, a famous sermon, the 
 sermon on the mount. 
 
 In the gospel dispensation, the mountain on which our Saviour 
 preached his divine discourse, may be, as the commentator above 
 mentioned observes, contradistinguished from Mount Sinai, where 
 the people were kept at a distance ; here they were invited to draw 
 near without distinction. It lay to the north of Mount Tabor, and 
 is sometimes called the Mount of Beatitudes. The mountains of 
 Gilboa, where the forces of Saul were defeated and himself slain, are in 
 the vicinity. 
 
 From the beautiful allusion our Saviour makes to the lilies 'of the 
 field, the season of the year, when this sermon was put forth, is sup- 
 posed to have been the spring. 
 
 (5) A voice was trembling in my ear, 
 Even now its dying note I hear, 
 It lingers yet but silently. 
 The horologe of death, is supposed to be an insect. The French 
 call it vrillette from the circumstance of its boring into wood. 
 
 " Les vrillettes vivent dans I'interieur des maisons, et leur larves 
 ddvorent les boiseries, les meubles, les poutres, les solives, et percent 
 les bois en y faisant une multitude de petits trous ronds. C'est a une 
 vrillette qu'on attribue ce petit bruit singulier qu'on appellc horo- 
 loge de la mort, et qu'on entend souvent le soir dans les apartemens." 
 
 L'Listinct des Animaux. 
 
 The horologe, or death-watch, is a species of solitary Termites. 
 (Termcs Pulsatorium Linn.) or (Atropos lignarius, Leach.) It lives 
 in old books, the paper on walls, collections of insects, and dried plants, 
 
82 
 
 and is extremely agile in its movements, darting by jerks inio dark 
 corners for the purpose of concealment. It does not like to run straight 
 forward, without resting every half second, as if to listen or look 
 about for its pursuer, and at such restiiiir times it is easily taken. 
 
 iThe ticking noise is made b,- the insect beating against the wood, 
 with its head, and is supposed by some to be peculiar to the fiuiale, 
 and to be connected with the laying of her eggs. 
 
 Another death-watch is a small beetle, called in ontology ' Ano- 
 bium Tesselatum." 
 
 Library Enter. Kiiowl. 
 
 (6) The Arab goes to Mecca^s shrine, 
 
 And kneels to kiss a senseless stone, 
 Jehovah's wurship, more divine, 
 Comes/rom the heart alone. 
 
 The superstitions of the Mahomedan religion are currently 
 known, and it may be scarcely worth while to mention, tl at the 
 Caaba alluded to in this verse, is a square stone edifice in the temple 
 of Mecca. The Mahometans say that this buililing was first erect- 
 ed by Adam, from the model of one thnt he had seen in Paradise. 
 Subsequently to Adam's death, they assert that another buikling of 
 the same kind, made of stones and clay, was erected by Seth, Eut as 
 this was destroyed by the Hood, they maintain also, that Abraham 
 and Ishmael were instructed by divine providence to rebuild it in the 
 same place where it first stood. 
 
 In the Caaba is '' the black stone," so celebrated among the Ma- 
 hometans, and which is regarded as an object of worship by the 
 Arab pilgrims. This stone is set in silver, and fixed in the roatheasl 
 corner of the building, or that which looks towards Basra, about two 
 cubits and one third, or seven spans from the ground. The Mo-'ems 
 pretend that it \vas one of the precious stones of Paradise, and that it 
 fell down to the earth with Adam, and being taken up a;4ain, or 
 otherwise preserved at the Deluge, the angel Gabri< I afterwards 
 brought it back to Abraliain, when he was building the Caaba. 
 
 It was at first, according to their account, whiter than snow, but 
 became black by the sins of mankind, or rather by the touehi s and 
 kis.ses of so many people, the surface only leing black, ;.nd the inte- 
 rior parts remaining still white. 
 
 Rccs^ Cyclop., Art Caaba. 
 
83 
 
 (7) The monarch chase the brightest star, 
 That taslern climes could own. 
 The Jewish name of the niece of Mordecai, was " Hadasseh." 
 Aftci she was preferred to the throne of Persia, she was, on account 
 of h«^r beauty, called " Esther," which signifies, in the Persian lan- 
 guage, a star. The same word runs through various languages; in 
 the Greek, " ajpuf," in tlie Latin, "astruni."- Tlie English name 
 Hester, has obviously the same origin. 
 
 (8) " With the notes of the choir, ichich re-echo around, 
 
 Let the ' breath of our faith,' rising upward befound.^' 
 
 Legh Richmond calls prayer the breath of faith. See the Life of 
 Lcgli Richmond, one of the brightest and most distinguished exam- 
 ples of devotedness and zeal that adorns the annals of the church. 
 
 (9) Th is drop of black blood in the heart, 
 It must, the death pang must, impart, 
 
 Beyond our own controlling. 
 The Mahometans, it is said, believe that there is a drop of black 
 blood in the heart, which, poisoning the stream of life at its fountain 
 head, occasions all our misery whilst living, and ultimately produces 
 our death. 
 
 (10) To stretch the bosoms chords of steel, 
 And though we rend them, <^c. 
 
 -and hearts with strings of steel 
 
 Grow soft as sinews of the new-born babe. 
 
 Shakspeare. 
 
 (11) ^ Tis finished, and 'twas not in vain. 
 The temple's vail was rent in twain. 
 This emphatic expression, which the Redeemer uttered at the cru- 
 cifixion, is here applied to the resurrection. 
 
 On these words, Home remarks that volumes might be written. 
 
 (12) The stars that dawned upon }iis birth, 
 Hare hailed his transit from, the earth. 
 The exact time of our Saviour's rising from the tomb is not known. 
 The Jews said that he was stolen away in the night-time, and one of 
 
84 
 
 the Evangelists observes, that such was the current report among 
 them at his day. The expression used above, inipUcs a conjecture, 
 that the time of the resurrection corretjpondtd to that of the birth, and 
 that the morning stars, which sang together when he was born, also 
 appeared again, and saluted his happy return to the regions of the 
 blessed, 
 
 (13) Ah, dost thou doubt, if true it fell, 
 The last the crouning miracle, 
 M'ith Cephas to the tomb repair, 
 It yauns upon the open air. 
 
 The intense interest, eagerness and surprise, manifested by Mary 
 Magdalen and the apostles Peter and John, when they were made 
 aware of the ascent, or rather the disappearance of the Saviour from 
 the sepulchre, are described with much beauty and simplicity by the 
 apostle St. John, who was himself a participator in what he writes. 
 The tender solicitude and love of Mary, are forcibly set forth by the 
 circumstance of her being the first " at early morn" to go and watch 
 over the grave of her divine and lamented master. 
 
 " The first day of the week cometh Mary Magdalen early, when 
 it was yet dark, into the sepulchre, and seeth the stone taken away 
 from the sepulchre. 
 
 Then she runneth, and cometh to Simon Peter, and to the other 
 disciple whom Jesus loved, and saith unto them, They have taken 
 away the Lord out of the sepulchre, and wc know not where they 
 have laid him. 
 
 Peter therefore went forth, and that other disciple, and came to 
 the sepulchre. 
 
 So they ran both together, and the other disciple did outrun Peter, 
 and came first to the sepulchre," 
 
 John XX. 1-4. 
 
 (14) Yes risen, risen, seek him not, 
 In this sepulchral dreary spot, 
 To FJmviaus he goes to-day, 
 
 To speak with travellers on the tray. 
 
 The Saviour first appeared in the world at a public inn, the scene 
 
 of his birth, and after his resurrection his first appearance was in a 
 
 public road. Without endeavoring to refine upon the interpretation 
 
 of scripture, the suggestion may be allowed, that our Saviour's ap- 
 
85 
 
 pearing first in the open roaJ, would seem to indicate, in conformity 
 with many circumstances which transpired during his stay on earth, 
 and many of his previous observations and injunctions, that the sub- 
 ordinate distinctions in regard to the redemption of mankind, were 
 now entirely removed, and that the means of salvation were placed 
 within the reach of all, and were to be obtained by those that sought 
 them. 
 
 (15) 'Tis night, and lo! upon the sea, 
 The lone, dark sea, 
 The storm is h oul in g fearfully. 
 In the Hebrew phraseology, the name " sea" is applied indiscrimi- 
 nately to any large body of water. It was on the lake of Genesareth 
 that our Saviour performed the miracle of walking upon the water. 
 This lake was also called the sea of Galilee, the sea of Chennereth, 
 (Numb, xxxiv. 2.) or Cinneroth, (Josh. xii. 3.) and the sea of Tibe- 
 rias, (John vi. 1. and xxi. 1.) Home. 
 
 (16) In the VaUey of Achor, 
 A hope yet remains. 
 
 Achor is the Hebrew word for trouble. Hence the Prophet Hosea, 
 in speaking of the idolatry of the people, and of their reconciliation 
 with heaven, says, 
 
 " Therefore, behold, I will allure her, and bring her into the wil- 
 derness, and speak comfortably unto her." 
 
 " And I will give her, her vineyards from thence, and the Valley 
 of Achor for a door of hope." Hosea xi, 14-15. 
 
 The valley where Achan was stoned, gave rise to this name of 
 Achor. It was so called on account of the trouble that through him 
 was brought upon the children of Israel. Vide Josh. vii. 26. 
 
 (17) When for Tammuz they reept, 
 And affliction they bore, 
 That in darkness He slept, 
 Iridescent no more. 
 The idol for which the Jewish women sat weeping at the north 
 gate of the temple, was an Egyptian Deity, the same as the Adonis 
 of the Phenicians and Syrians, 
 In a wild and speculative work, called " Mythological Astronomy," 
 8 
 
80 
 
 it is asserted that the sun is meant in the interpretation of this pas- 
 sage of Ezckicl. But it is not probable that the sun is alluded to ; if 
 so, it would not be spoken of literally in one verse, and afterwards, 
 in the next verse or two, figuratively. Vide Ezek. viii. 13-lG. 
 
 An ancient Rabbi says, that Tammuz was an idol of brass, whose 
 eyes the pagans used to fill with lead ; then making a fire in the hol- 
 low parts of the idol, the lead would melt, and the image secmtos?hcd 
 tears. St. Jerome has rendered Tammuz by Adonis: and there is 
 great probability tbat this is the true signification of it. The word 
 Amrauz, which is the same as Tammuz, signifies absiru&c or con- 
 cealed. The manner of construction of the Hebrew text of Ezekiel, 
 gives reason to judge that Tammuz is put in an appellative sense. 
 But nothing can agree better with Adonis, than the epithet secret or 
 hidden, whether we consider that secrecy and obscurity, in which 
 his mystcriei* were involved, or the condition in which he was repre- 
 sented during the festival. He was put into a cofiln, and lamented 
 over as if dead. Moses, in some places, calls him the dead, by way 
 of derision. Lastly, the circumstance of women bewailing Tammuz, 
 has determined the greatest part of commentators to explain these 
 passages of Ezekiel by the Feasts of Adonis. 
 
 Don Calmct., Art. Tammuz. 
 
 (18) Though shouts of triumph rent the air, 
 The loud acclaim the prophet spurned, 
 To Salcvis burnished towers he turned, 
 And fervent was his prayer. 
 The Jews were in the habit of turning towards Jerusalem when 
 they prayed. In imitation of this custom, Mahomet taught his fol- 
 lowers to turn towards Me(;ca when olfering up their prayers. 
 
 The firmness of Daniel, and his uncompromising spirit of piety 
 during his captivity, when he was exposed to the most imminent 
 danger and temptation, are thus described in Holy Writ. 
 
 " Now when Daniel knew that the writing was signed, he went 
 into his house; and his windows berug open in his chamber toward 
 Jerusalem, he kneeled upon his knees three times a day and prayed, 
 and gave thanks before his God, as he did aforetime." 
 
 Daniel vi. 10. 
 
87 
 
 (19) And this last sacrifice ve give ^ 
 
 To viake our faith increase and lite. 
 
 Allusion i, here m«de to the cxpr«aon f-l-""^ "'"= ' J";; ^X" 
 or author of whu-h I an, unacquam.eJ with-" The blood of the mar 
 tyrs is the seed of the Church." 
 
 t20) Ours is the sacred cause to claim 
 
 Alone, the martyrs wreath and fame, 
 The Christian rclicrion alone, has been distinguished -by martyrs. 
 ThetgenuuTof -ne wrUer. has been exercised in vam to prove 
 the contrary. 
 
 (21) In yon illumined Paradise, 
 
 ' Tis ours the first to enter there. 
 It was believed in the early periods of Christianity, tha^-^;^-^ 
 surrection, the martyrs were entitled to precedence of all other Chris- 
 tians, and entered into heaven before them. 
 
-MISCELLANEOUS, 
 
FUTURITY 
 
 Breve et irreparabile tcmpus, 
 Omnibus est vilae.— 
 
 'Tis dcirkness all that lies beyond 
 
 The vivid soul's enli^ht'ning ray : 
 And reason, boaslingly profound, 
 
 Is night-fall on the closing day. 
 We stand upon a rocky steep, 
 
 Where sky, and winds, and waves, are free 
 But looking round, we fear to leap 
 
 Into our own eternity ! 
 
 There is a height we cannot reach, 
 
 And worlds we cannot bound : 
 And truths the mind we cannot teach, 
 
 And depths of sea we cannot sound. 
 All that we know, and all we feel, 
 
 Enkindles hopes, enlivens fears. 
 
92 
 
 Those strokes of Time, which wake the peal, 
 That breaks the silence of our years. 
 
 The voice within — the language mute, 
 
 Whose sound we cannot chase away ; 
 Whose truth no reasoning can refute, 
 
 Though reason oft may disobey, 
 Say, does it teach us more of dread, 
 
 The dread of pain, the dread of death, 
 Than bliss from that great Fountain head, 
 
 Whence life first drew its vital breath ? 
 
 Why should the mind delight to soar, 
 
 And feel, it is a true delight ? 
 The mazes that it would -explore, 
 
 Deride the weakness of its flight. 
 And why enraptured should we gaze 
 
 On visions that we form above, 
 The brilliance of whose starry blaze, 
 
 Bedims the hght of human love ? 
 
 The idle bird his sport doth urge, 
 His fleet wing in the water dips : 
 
93 
 
 Though on the shore loud rolls the surge, 
 Where ocean frotheth at her lips. 
 
 Oh, could we wake from slumbering dreams, 
 Our apprehensions drive away ; 
 
 We'd be as careless as he seems, 
 And live as happy and as gay. 
 
 The earth is crumbhng at our feet, 
 
 And clouds are dark above our head ; 
 The waters with the waters meet, 
 
 And time is fleeting, and has fled. 
 PfO£frnssinn, ruin, and decay, 
 
 And years with deep repentance rife, 
 And senses mouldering all away 
 
 If this be living, what is life ? 
 
r () 
 
 A LADY BLUSHING 
 
 Those features bathed in crimson dyes! 
 'Twas but the flash of radiant e^^es — 
 'Tis just that thou should' st feel in turn, 
 The flames with which all others burn. 
 
 It fades away, but richer grace, 
 Beams o'er its brief abiding place ; 
 Ah, 'twas a double fire you drew, 
 At once to dazzle and subdue, 
 
FOREBODINGS, 
 
 The ocean heaveth from below, 
 
 Ere yet the storm pervades : 
 And deeper do the shadows grow, 
 
 Ere come the evening shades. 
 And awful is the murmur heard, 
 
 Upon the battle plain ; 
 Before the clash of spear and sword, 
 
 And groaning of the slain. 
 
 The sunset glow lights up the sky, 
 On purple folds unfurled ; 
 
 Ere yet the starry lamps on high, 
 Beam out upon the world. 
 
 And mark again, the crimson dawa 
 Is brilliant in display : 
 
yu 
 
 When the twinkhng orbs are all withdrawn, 
 The harbinger of day. 
 
 Breathes not the deep, the silent sigh, 
 
 Ere Hope has yet departed ; 
 To warn us that warm love can die, 
 
 And leave us broken-hearted ? 
 And are there not, the tone, the look, 
 
 The frowning brow's dark token, 
 Which Friendship may no longer brook, 
 
 Ere all its ties are broken ? 
 
 Oh, weeps there not the willow tree, 
 
 Beside the meadow stream ; 
 Though waving to its rippling glee, 
 
 And basking in its beam ? 
 Twine me a wreath from its young bough, 
 
 The vernal chaplet bring : 
 Formed from the tendrils drooping low. 
 
 The first fruits of the Spring. r 
 
 When Summer shrinks from Autumn's blasts 
 And leaf and blossom fade : 
 
97 
 
 Why doth the yew, unfading last, 
 With verdure undecayed ? 
 
 While all around arc gone beside, 
 Which beauty could not save ; 
 
 It flourishes in stately pride, 
 The emblem of the grave. 
 
TO A FRIEND. 
 
 It freshly comes from summer seas, 
 And gently is it breathing now — 
 Sweet welcome to the evening breeze, 
 That cools my fevered brow. 
 
 As on its wings it passed me by, 
 
 Methought I heard a whispering moan 
 Was it some kindred bosom's sigh, 
 That mingled with my own? 
 
 Or could it be the voice of years, 
 
 Now long, too unfamiliar grown, 
 Whose spirit moves us, like tbe tears 
 We shed, when all alone! 
 
 The flowers, the richest in perfume, 
 Their fragrant breath the freest give ; 
 
99 
 
 Why should it be their hapless doom, 
 The shortest time to live? 
 
 But oh, the love that we have known. 
 
 What lasting pleasure hath it given ; 
 Ne'er shall its balmy leaves be strown 
 Upon the winds of heaven. 
 
 Fly then, thou light breeze, calmly by, 
 
 And wind thy tuneful notes above. 
 And with the music, blend the sigh, 
 Which memory pays to love. 
 
ON PARTING 
 
 And tlie sunlight clasps the earth, 
 
 And the moonbeams kiss the sea, 
 What are all these kissiugs wortli, 
 
 If thou kiss not me ? Shelley. 
 
 One brief, brief moment more, cmd Time, 
 Which cannot rend the silver cord. 
 Which long hath bound our hearts in one. 
 Will make us feel, he hath the power 
 
 To break the pleasant interchange 
 Of all our tender bosom thoughts — 
 The smile, the look, the fond caress. 
 The treasures of our present love. 
 
 All, all that we have hoped and felt, 
 Known to have been, believed to be ; 
 And trusted to perpetuate. 
 Hath to this issue come at last. 
 
101 
 
 'Tis thus that one brief moment proves, 
 Proves oft the chiefest poini of life, 
 To which its brightest rays attend. 
 And whence returnless they diverge. 
 
 Condensed into this narrow space, 
 The hixury of days all spent ; 
 Still, still to this the mind shall turn, 
 In darker change of days to come. 
 
 Life is a fair and fragrant flower. 
 Reared from the seed, the soil of death ; 
 'Tis fitted for an angel's lips, 
 Though destined for the grave- worm's spoil. 
 
 And love is like the rose leaf's blush, 
 Which fades far earlier than the form. 
 On which its hues have been impressed, 
 Where they can never long endure. 
 
 The hope of change, the fear of change, 
 Are life's essential elements ; 
 The hope of something better still. 
 The dread reverse of what is worse. 
 9* 
 
102 
 
 Joy knoweth not a lasting stay, 
 It is a transient visitor ; 
 Where many under-passions are, 
 To fright it from a dwelling place. 
 
 But memory cherishes its form, 
 In the still chambers of the breast ; 
 And smiles whene'er it welcomes back, 
 So sweet a messenger of peace. 
 
 In all the waste of hours and years, 
 Though seemingly most profitless. 
 There's something that the heart reserves. 
 To soothe, to recompense, to bless. 
 
THE BUGLOSS. 
 
 The Bugloss {Lycopsis) is supposed to be Uie Nepenthe of the Ancients, whicli, 
 when infused in wine, was thought to he effectual in removing sadness and care. 
 It is a common, but beautiful flower, and is found in every part of our country. 
 
 Ah, if our cares thou couldst subdue, 
 
 Or teach us to resign ; 
 We'd pluck thy tufts of crested blue, 
 
 And steep them in the wine. 
 Or sip the morning's scented dew, 
 
 From bossy cups of thine. 
 
 We'd twine thy garlands in our hair, 
 And bind them on our breast ; 
 
 And long their fragrance should they bear. 
 The sweetest, happiest, 
 
 And prouder make the brows that wear. 
 Than if with laurels dressed. 
 
 We'd search the meads at early morn, 
 And visit them at eve ; 
 
104 
 
 And for the wretched and forlorn, 
 The charmed wreath would weave, 
 
 Nor eye of pride, nor lip of scorn. 
 Should e'er the bosom grieve. 
 
 Oh, might there be some power to guide, 
 
 Some secret charm to bless : 
 Some bright flower blooming in its pride. 
 
 We fondly might caress, 
 We'd lay it tliarnless on our side, 
 
 The balm of happiness. 
 
ECHO TO A PAINTER 
 
 [Translated from tlie Epigrams of Ausonius.] 
 
 Why, painter, woaldst thou paint me, why? 
 
 The child of air and speech am I : 
 
 No form or feature canst thou find, 
 
 To trace my voice without a mind — 
 
 The words I catch are sport for me, 
 
 I sport with them, as now with thee : 
 
 My dwelHng in the ear is found, 
 
 If thou wouldst paint me, paint a sound. 
 
 LESBIA. 
 
 [Translated from Ausonius. J 
 
 The Graces were in number three. 
 Till Lesbia made them four ; 
 
 But to their number they return. 
 My Lesbia is no more. 
 
LAIS PRESENTING HER MIRR0R 
 TO VENUS. 
 
 [From the Same.] 
 
 Dear goddess take this looking-glass, 
 
 No more shall it be mine ; 
 It suite thy fair, unfading leoks, 
 
 And beauty such as thine. 
 
 What I have been in earlier days, 
 
 It will not show to me ; 
 And what I am, I would not know, 
 
 And will not longer see. 
 
TO THE MUSaUITOES 
 
 Ye flee, ye varlets, aff as soon 
 As comes the braw October moon, 
 
 And autumn winds are blawin' ; 
 Ye gang into your wintry cells, 
 And stap your bugle clangin' spells, 
 Ere frost is white upon the dells, - 
 
 Or comes the chilly snawin'. 
 
 If Moses once again should stand, 
 
 To thraw his plagues on Egypt's land, 
 
 For chaps that hate the word ; 
 I'm thinkin', ye wad be the thing. 
 That neist on Pharaoh he should bring, 
 His host into confusion fling, 
 
 And mak 'em luve the Lord. 
 
108 
 
 When ye were thrangin' by the dizin, 
 And sporting round in merry bizzin', 
 
 I lay awake to hear ye ; 
 And drowsily my ee was blinkin', 
 And sleepless a' the lids were winkin', 
 I tried your little wings the clinkin', 
 
 But never could come near ye. 
 
 Ye think it is baith sweet and gude 
 To tak a feast o' rosy bluid, 
 
 When plunging in our veins ; 
 But frisking on your hnkin-wing, 
 When afF again ye glutted spring, 
 Ye rede na o' the piercing sting. 
 
 That sairly lang remains. 
 
 I doubt na if ye will bo comin' 
 
 To spend the nights in sangs and hummin', 
 
 Like feckless anes of Roland ; 
 Our new inventions will not fail, 
 We'll put some powther on your tail, 
 Or gar ye afF wi' donsie sail, 
 
 To a' the dykes o' Holland. 
 
TO AN ABSENT SISTER 
 
 When we this painful truth have proved, 
 That all who love, are not beloved ; 
 And often have been forced to deem 
 That friendship is but cold esteem, 
 
 And when the hearts we sought to gain, 
 HavjB caused us less of joy, than pain, 
 And one by one, we've broke the ties, 
 Which added to our agonies, 
 
 'Tis consolation then to see 
 Some cheering proof of constancy — 
 Some faithful bosom we have tried, 
 In whose warm love we may confide. 
 
 And if of all our hopes bereft 
 But this, we find this refuge left, 
 10 
 
110 
 
 We'll smile on friendship's severed chain, 
 And cast it from us with disdain. 
 
 Perhaps for me, some heart may beat, 
 And yield a love, both pure and sweet ; 
 But yet I fear, it will not be 
 As lasting, as thy love for me. 
 
THE GRAVE 
 
 My heart is a' for sorrow made, 
 It loes the tomb-stane's twihght shade, 
 When in my lanclj grief, I'm weepin' 
 Aboon the banes o' the lowly sleepin'. 
 
 Here, bonny birds have been to-day 
 To sing, and then to fly away ; 
 I would I had their joyfu' wing, 
 Their blythe and tentless heart to sino- 
 
 o * 
 
 I would my warm bluid could flow on. 
 As gayfu' as in times a' gone — 
 -But winter's cauld and chilling blast, 
 Has o'er my life's red currents passed. 
 
 The saut tear often in my ee, 
 Has taen its brightness a' fra' me. 
 
112 
 
 Na mair, will e'er its flowing cease, 
 Or yield the painfu' bosom peace. 
 
 O, ask ye why my tears sud flow ? 
 It is a mother sleeps below ; 
 For smiles that to her bairn she gave, 
 These tear-drops drip aboon her grave. 
 
THE CLOSE OF SUMMER 
 
 And are they gone, the summer birds, which sported on 
 
 the spray? 
 And do their hght, their fluttering wings, rush swiftly 
 
 from decay ? 
 Aye, though they sing among the boughs, when all is 
 
 bright and green, 
 They shun them when the rum comes, in its revolting 
 
 mien. 
 
 The forest trees are beautiful, when golden bright and 
 
 brown, 
 Ere yet the loose and trembling leaves, are shook and 
 
 trampled down. 
 But fade they in their dying hour, though lovely to the 
 
 last, 
 And smile upon the blighting form, that comes in 
 
 autumn's blast. 
 
114 
 
 The flowing Btream, its nurturing breath to all their 
 
 foliage gave, 
 But now the crisped and faded leaf, lies floating on the 
 
 wave, 
 Or if it drink the morning dew, when mouldering on the 
 
 earth, 
 No dew or water can restore the freshness of its birth. 
 
 Oh, seek not now the meadow-sweet,* which cometh in 
 
 its pride, 
 Nor orobanche, nor violet, that bloomcth by its side. 
 Amid its rocks, the saxifrage no longer may be found. 
 But its shrivelled leaves, lie scattered upon the barren 
 
 ground. 
 
 Yet verdant is the sheltered hill, and grassy is the lawn, 
 And down its slope of feathery fern, the brook is mur- 
 muring on. 
 The endive and hypericum yet loitering blossoms yield. 
 And asters, like the stars of Hope, are lingering in the field. 
 
 * Spirea Trifoliata. 
 
115 
 
 Though all of earth is fading fast, yet lovelier grow the 
 skies, 
 
 And richer at the close of day, are the evening's purple 
 dyes ; 
 
 And 'tis, to the heavens that we turn, enduring ever- 
 more, 
 
 Rejoiced to find them in our gloom, still brighter than 
 before, 
 
 # 
 
THE EYES AND THE HEART 
 
 The eyes with certain truth express 
 Our anguish and our happiness — 
 Leagued with the heart, Hke it, they show 
 Our sense of joy, our sense of wo ; 
 But they must weep of tears, a flood, 
 And oh, the heart is drenched with blood ! 
 
I SAID I WOULD NOT SIGH 
 AGAIN." 
 
 I SAID I would not sigh again, 
 
 But be each coming morrow 
 As happy as the hours are long, 
 
 And free from every sorrow. 
 
 But when the simple vov/ I made, 
 
 I knew not what it meant ; 
 Nor thought 'twould be beyond my .power, 
 
 To keep that covenant. 
 
 When every face shall show a smile, 
 When it shall chance to meet you ; 
 
 And all your friends shall be sincere, 
 When cordially they greet you : 
 
 When Fortune brings her gifts of gold, 
 And Care shall fly away ; 
 
118 
 
 And you shall wear no doubtful looks 
 Even on a cloudy day ; 
 
 When every wish shall be fulfilled, 
 And nothing come to pain you ; 
 
 And lovers love you not too much, 
 Nor any one disdain you ; 
 
 As long as virtue cannot claim 
 
 Her just reward of merit : 
 And though displaced by low intrigue, 
 
 You see her calmly bear it ; 
 
 And you can stifle every sense, 
 
 Which ministers to feeling ; 
 And cause another's biting wo 
 
 To make you no appealing ; 
 
 And when your judgment is not shocked, 
 
 If Folly is deriding ; 
 And none through interest shall abuse 
 
 The heart that is confiding 
 
 'O J 
 
 When Falsehood shall be turned to Truth, 
 So that you may believe her ; 
 
119 
 
 And Envy nurse no secret hate, 
 The knave be no deceiver ; 
 
 When all the hearts of all mankind, 
 To kindness shall be given ; 
 
 And Truth and Justice shall return 
 From whence they have been driven 
 
 When you shall see these miracles, 
 Or work them, if by trying : 
 
 Then may you be a happy man, 
 And have no cause for sighing. 
 
FEAR AND HOPE, 
 
 When first the human heart was made, 
 
 It beat in quiet, till 
 A host of Passions came and prayed, 
 
 To rule it at their will. 
 
 They dared to seize upon the breast, 
 
 And each would rule alone : 
 Though Providence conceived it best, 
 
 That none should fill the throne. 
 
 But two there were by Him decreed, 
 
 A mutual part to play ; 
 Thus Fear and Hope, they take the lead , 
 
 And hold alternate sway. 
 
THE WANDERER. 
 
 Wilt thou watch the white sail, as it swells to the wind, 
 
 When the ship bounds over the sea ? 
 Wilt thou think of the joy I've forsaken behind, 
 
 The light of the blessed for me ? 
 
 The tears I shall weep in the fountains below, 
 Will be lost in the blue ocean's brine ; 
 
 For these lone, dreary waters, as o'er them I go, 
 Will but sport with such sorrow as mine. 
 
 There, the sea bird is lonely, he sings us no song, 
 His dirge is the night-wind's low hum : 
 
 And in soft sullen murmurs, the waves move along. 
 They sigh for the tempest to come. 
 
 It will come when the spirit walks forth on the deep, 
 When the breath from his nostrils is blown, 
 11 
 
122 
 
 Then the wild raging whirlwind shall ruthlessly sweep, 
 And ruin respond to its moan. 
 
 When the loud voice of thunder shall fearlessly speak, 
 
 The clouds in its pathway it rends : 
 In her cave of rose coral, the mermaid will shriek, 
 
 When she hears the loud echo it sends. 
 
 But the danger, the ruin, the storm-tide, we dare, 
 For the love which our bosom upholds ; 
 
 The banner which shields us, floats it not on the air. 
 And are not the stars in its folds ? 
 
 Though stout is the heart and strong is its nerve, 
 
 It feels a deep throbbing of pain ; 
 When Reason has spoken, and we may not e'er swerve 
 
 Back to its sweet blisses again. 
 
 'Tis a dreary waste empire, the cloud-girtcd sea, 
 With her diadem spangled with foam ; 
 
 In all its deep lowliness, 'tis fitted to be. 
 The wanderer's pitiless home. 
 
THE HERALD OF WINTER 
 
 The earth is all stript of its red and its green, 
 
 And its bright rich foliage no longer is seen ; 
 
 It is withered and sere, though it shone in its pride, 
 
 And hath known what the touch of decay doth betide. 
 
 The bird and the blossom have been chilled by my breath, 
 
 And have shrunk as it were from the smiting of death. 
 
 The fields are untilled and the husbandman is gone. 
 And the ploughboy sings not his sweet carol at dawn ; 
 The hoar frost at morning, has been white on the hill, 
 And the waters have deepened in the lone woodland rill. 
 And my pathway is clear, and I am come to bestow, 
 The stores of my ice, and my treasures of snow. 
 
 Let the mariner watch who goes forth on the deep, 
 Where the fierce storm spirits their wild revel keep: 
 
121 
 
 Let him watch for the tempest that slumbers at hand, 
 It shall rise from the sea, it shall spring from the land, 
 When it pours out its wrath on the white foaming wave, 
 He will call on the God of the whirlwinds to save. 
 
 Ye marked the bright bloom ere the fruit was yet grown, 
 And saw the green fields by the reaper unmown; 
 But the fruit has been ripe, and the harvest is past. 
 They were seasons of hope, and they could not long last ; 
 And the winter is come, and the warning is given. 
 Can this waste of cold earth be the Ukeness of heaven ? 
 
UNHAPPINESS 
 
 The blackest clouds away will roll, 
 Or weep in floods of rain ; 
 
 But oh, the darkness of the soul, 
 UncUanging must remain. 
 
 It knows no sun of kindling light, 
 Whose constant beanvit wins ; 
 
 And when our highest joy concludes, 
 Our deepest wo begins. 
 
 IV 
 
ISABEL 
 
 Though mouniains meet not, loverg may 
 
 Cupid's rxsxiMt 
 
 Haste, quickly bring my noble steed, 
 
 And rein him for his fleetest speed : 
 
 Swift as my warm, warm thoughts I'll flee 
 
 To thee, my gentle love, to thee, 
 
 And all my doubting fears dispel, 
 
 My own, my own sweet Isabel. 
 
 I see each lovely beaming grace, 
 In brightness flashing o'er thy face; 
 And it recalls the moments, when 
 I first felt, what I feel again — 
 The thrilling sense of beauty s spell, 
 I learnt from thee, my Isabel. 
 
127 
 
 Away, away, oh, let me flee, 
 And bear my heart, my soul to thee ; 
 For these, and all I have, are thine. 
 And heaven and thee alone are mine ; 
 With thee my love, with thee to dwell, 
 Is bliss, pure bliss, my Isabel. 
 
EASE OF MANNERS. 
 
 He has no thought to please, Ibut pleases all, 
 Without a boon they give him their^steem, 
 And with his carelessness they are in love ; 
 He is forsooth, the mo(ffel of all grace, 
 And counts admirers like a looking-glass. 
 And when with aiif of most important speech, 
 He talks of fashion and of idle things ; 
 His tongue is mounted upon polished wheels, 
 And far outstrips my dull -philosophy — 
 What ! I have studied all the lore of science, 
 And in much secret learning am I skilled, 
 But here I sit, propped up by awkward stays, 
 As useless as a lamp in broad day-time — 
 I'll have no more of books, or globes, or maps, 
 In mere abstraction will no longer live. 
 And without study, study how to please. 
 
VENI, VI DI, NON y ICI." 
 
 (An Epigram lo a Lady.) 
 
 / came^ I saic, it was enough- 
 I nothing more could do ; 
 
 I knelt a captive at your feet, 
 The conqueror were you. 
 
FORTUNE AND FOLLY CONTENDING 
 AGAINST VIRTUE AND WISDOM. 
 
 When in the days of classic Greec^e, 
 Her games proclaimed the songs of peace, 
 And nations warred,and wrangled, till 
 They met to try their strength and sldll ; 
 Upon the lists to fame endeared, 
 Four novel champions there appeared, 
 And when their names were read aloud, 
 It raised the wonder of the crowd, 
 And as surprised they gazed the while, 
 It drew from every face a smile. 
 Say, would you venture to suppose 
 From what this strange amazement rose ; 
 Or think, the sight which met their view. 
 Has not been often seen by yo\x ? 
 The honest truth, I'm sure you'll own, 
 Soon as the mj^stery you have known. 
 
131 
 
 Fortune and Folly on one side, 
 Wisdom and Virtue both defied — 
 And though, as if for very life, 
 They joined the issue of the strife, 
 Yet all believed, (as it were meet,) 
 They both would suffer quick defeat. 
 But Virtue, timorous was and shy, 
 And Wisdom paused for scrutiny ; 
 Whilst Fortune, teing very blind, 
 At random struck, before, behind. 
 And joined by Folly, rash and bold. 
 Their every blow, like thunder told ; 
 Thus speedily they end the fight. 
 And put their cautious foes to flight.' 
 
 * The idea of this piece was suggested from seeing the incident, 
 which it relates, mentioned in Burton's Anat. Melanchol. 
 
L' AMOUR, 
 
 " Ficum voco ficoni, et ligonem, ligonem. 
 
 Though belles and beaux, 'iAfyerse and prose, 
 
 Make love a thing ideal ; 
 I am inclined to keep my mind, 
 
 And think it something real, 
 
 I'm sure its something real. 
 
 The heart that aches, till it almost breaks, 
 
 The soul that sighs for me : 
 When a smile will heal, what lovers feel, 
 
 'Tis just as love should be, 
 
 And give that love to me. 
 
 He that's grum, or a tongue that's dumb, 
 
 Is nothing worth to me ; 
 But a voice that's sweet, when lovers meet, 
 
 'Tis as the voice should be. 
 
 And let it speak to me. 
 
THE MARINER'S WIFE 
 
 We bade adieu, when the fair wind blew, 
 
 And tears were falling free ; 
 For tranquil seas, and a homeward breeze, 
 
 How bright our eyes will be ! 
 
 Kind gales prevail, and speed the sail, 
 
 Swift o'er the azure main ; 
 With a swifter wing, may ye safely bring, 
 
 Her homeward back again. 
 
 The honest tar, who sails afar, 
 Will think, when on the sea ; 
 
 That winds ahead, which others dread, 
 Will waft his sighs to me. 
 
 But a heart more tme, he never knew, 
 Which feels those sighs alone— 
 12 
 
134 
 
 When the fair wind blows, and the proud ship goes, 
 I'll send him back my own. 
 
 From his sea-girt skies, his fancy flies, 
 
 His thoughts ahome incline : 
 May the bosom be, of the heaving sea, 
 
 As safe and true as mine ! 
 
TIxME AND LOVE 
 
 As Time and Love, each other met, 
 
 Upon a rainy day ; 
 With nought to do, their wings all wet, 
 
 They talked along the way. 
 
 They diverse were, in size and looks, 
 
 As e'er two beings were • 
 Time hoary with the snows of age, 
 
 But Love was fresh and fair. 
 
 Quoth Time, " I see not how it is. 
 
 That I am thus forlorn ; 
 I think that thou cam'st in the world, 
 
 Just after I was born." 
 
13G 
 
 '"Tis true indeed," sweet Love replied, 
 
 " I was the next on earth ; 
 But every hour tliat I have lived, 
 
 I have renewed my birth. 
 
 " That truth," rejoined the God of years, 
 
 " Need scarcely to be told : 
 For I have seen in all the world, 
 
 But little love that's old " . 
 
 " My fickle sway," returned the boy, 
 
 " Never, never deride : 
 For very few there are, with thee, 
 
 That long are satisfied." 
 
 '"Tis true, 'tis true, my Uttle swain, 
 
 Few comprehend our use ; 
 For all mankind united are, 
 
 To load us with abuse. 
 
 "^But yonder breaks the ruling Sun, 
 
 Whose sceptre I obey ; 
 Behind his blazing car I go, 
 
 And haste, I must away." 
 
137 
 
 " Adieu, adieu," then Cupid spake, 
 " But think what thou hast said ; 
 
 Though thou wert born before I was, 
 I'll live when thou art dead. 
 
 " But now a boon, I crave of thee, 
 
 By all the powers above ; 
 That thou wouldst grant to man and maid, 
 
 All, time enough to love." 
 
 12* 
 
YOUTH AND AGE, 
 
 A YOUTH to small reflection given, 
 
 At last was to reflection driven ; 
 
 His form and features he surveyed, 
 
 And grieved to find them much decayed, 
 
 And felt, what many a pang had cost, 
 
 The worst of all, his health was lost. 
 
 He sighed, ah, deeply sighed, to see 
 
 He was not as he used to be — 
 
 The spring of his young days was gone, 
 
 And life had put its autumn on, 
 
 The thought, his soul could not endure, 
 
 The yellow leaf was premature. 
 
 As from his bosom burst the sigh, 
 
 It chanced that Age was passing by. 
 
 " My son," observed the hoary sage, 
 
 " Some painful thoughts thy mind engage 
 
139 
 
 Behold my years ! Can I impart 
 A cordial to thy wounded heart ?" 
 The youth surveyed his aged mien, 
 And stern remorse gave vent to spleen — 
 " I loathe thee as the worst of foes, 
 Thou art the author of my woes." 
 "'Tis false" — the veteran calmly said, 
 " Th^/self hast brought them on thy head, 
 Misguided, thoughtless, and betrayed, 
 The wrongs you feel, are all self made, 
 To vice, voluptuousness, and ease, 
 Ascribe alone thy injuries — 
 But are you willing to restore. 
 And keep, what you possessed before ? 
 Learn then, herein the secret lies. 
 Be virtuous, temperate^ and wise " 
 
ISNARDIA PALUSTRIS 
 
 The forest bee hath long been forth, 
 To toil and sport beneath the summer sun, 
 And "make his boot upon the velvet buds ;" 
 Where are the flowers which met him in his flight, 
 Winning their lover from his busy home, 
 To yield him their sweet breath ere they should die? 
 The twisted staff weed, and the mountain ash. 
 With blushing berries, now are crowned once more : 
 The staphyle, with lithe and striped stem, 
 Hangs out its green balloons unto the wind — 
 It is the autumn wind, frosty and cool ; 
 But still the harebell on the craggy rocks. 
 The pale chelone, and the tawny flax,* 
 In blossom glow, although the woodlands fade, 
 
 * Antirrhinum. 
 
141 
 
 And thou, the lovcHest of the sister-band, 
 Fair Isnardia, and sweetest of them all, 
 'Tis joy to me to court*thy lonely haunts, 
 And kiss the down upon thy purple lip — 
 Fitter, ah, fitter far, hadst thou been nursed 
 By genial Spring's most soft and pleasant breath, 
 And fated not like me, to feel the blasts 
 That blow too ruthless on a tender cheek. 
 Dear flower, I love thee, that thou dost recall 
 The thoughts of one^ once lovely as thou art, 
 And gentle in her most attractive grace, 
 But doomed, like thee, too early far, to know 
 The unrelenting touch of quick decay. 
 Come, sweet, I will transplant thee on her tomb. 
 That they, who mark thy modest form, may say, 
 How Beauty oft companioned is with Death ! 
 
FRIENDSHIP AND LOVE 
 
 Friendship and Love once, hand in hand, 
 
 Upon a couch did He ; 
 And whilst they bravely talked and laughed, 
 
 A lovely maid passed by. 
 
 When Love beheld her brilliant eyes, 
 
 His silver bow he drew : 
 And Friendship seized his silken cord. 
 And he was ready too. 
 
 Says Love, I'll shoot my arrow first, 
 The wound will serve to blind her : 
 
 Then you may come to play your part. 
 And easily may bind her. 
 
 But Friendship thought it would be best, 
 That Love should make delay ; 
 
143 
 
 'Twere time enough for him to act, 
 When he had tried the way. 
 
 Thus these two ancient friends fell out ; 
 
 And while they bruited on, 
 The charming maid, with sweet bright eyes, 
 
 Beyond their reach had gone. 
 
 Unto the throne of Justice then, 
 
 They speedily depart ; 
 To learn which was entitled first, 
 
 To claim a lady's heart. 
 
 The answer of the reverend judge 
 » 
 
 Was just, as you might deem ] 
 
 He told them that they both should wait^ 
 
 And come after Esteem, 
 
THE WORLD. 
 
 'TwAS told me in my younger days, 
 The world was all deceiving ; 
 
 And often have I blamed the heart, 
 That long was unbelieving. 
 
 The fault was mine, and not the world' s- 
 
 I will not then reprove it ; 
 I knew it gave me cause enough, 
 
 Why I should never love it. 
 
 The kindly feelings I indulged, 
 
 It urged me to efface them ; 
 And much I fear, it will be long, 
 
 If e'er it doth replace them. 
 
 But those I have received in stead, 
 Will last perhaps the longer ; 
 
145 
 
 For though they are not half so fair, 
 Yet ten times ar§ they stronger. 
 
 Then go, thou world, I heed thee not, 
 Thou' St made me something wiser ; 
 
 Thou art a mother who loves best, 
 The children who despise her. 
 
 13 
 
/ 
 
 NUBES MAGELLANiE 
 
 The Magellanic clouds aTc seen in llie vicinity of the South Pole. They arc 
 three in number : two of them of a whitish appearance, and the other is somewhat 
 obscure. Sailors designate them as being two while and one black, and say that 
 they are the clouds which conducted the Children of Israel out of the land of 
 Egypt. We have chosen to speak of all of them as opacities in the Heavens. 
 Magellan, the famous Portuguese navigator, perished at one of Uic Philippine 
 Islands, in 1521, in a skirmish with the natives. 
 
 (written at sea.) 
 
 As often as the eve returns, 
 
 Begemmed with sparkUng lights on high, 
 I view ye in your silent spheres, 
 
 Ye lonely prisoners of the sky. 
 
 Why take ye not your fleecy wings, 
 
 And fly away all unconfined ; 
 The swift inhabitants of space, 
 
 And playthings of the sportive wind ? 
 
147 
 
 Amid a throng of lovely orbs, 
 
 The southern Cross is beaming bright ; 
 But from their soft and blending rays, 
 
 Ye catch no silver shade of light. 
 
 Move darkly on — move darkly on, 
 Unchanged, unchanging ever be ; 
 
 Though no effulgent gleams are thine, 
 It alters not thy destiny. 
 
 'Tis fitter that ye stay the same. 
 Your sombre, sable livery wear ; 
 
 In mourning for his hapless doom, 
 The symbols of whose fate ye are. 
 
 Ye benefactors of mankind, 
 
 Who rest with all your toils content ; 
 Who merit much, at last to find 
 
 Your chief reward, a monument — 
 
 Why should ye seek for idle fame, 
 Or court its false applauding breath ; 
 
 Or be the masters of the world, 
 
 To win but want, and chains and death' 
 
VALUABLE WORKS 
 
 LATKLY I'UBLISIIED AND FOR SALE BY 
 
 M'ELRATH & BANGS, 
 
 85 CHATHAM-STREET, NEW-YORK, 
 
 THE MOSAIC HISTORY OF THE CREATION OF THE 
 WORLD ILLUSTRxlTED ; By discoveries and experiments 
 derived from the present enlightened state of science ; with reflec- 
 tions intended to promote vital and practical religion. By Thomas 
 Wood, A. M. Revised and improved by the Rev. John P. Dur- 
 bin, A. M., Professor of Languages, Augusta College, Kentucky. 
 1 vol. 8vo. 
 
 This volume is a learned and most interesliiij^ commentary on tlie Mosaic ac- 
 count of the creation ; compruliending all the light that criticism, history, philoso- 
 phy and modern discoveries have thrown on tlie inspired narrative of the mysteri- 
 «)U3 production of this globe and all it inherits, with that most wonderful of its 
 inhabitants, man. It ought to be read by all who take an interest in matters, of 
 which, the nature and constitution of the planet they are born on, (he elements 
 they live in, and the whole range of physical philosophy, as subjects proper to be 
 understood byiliose i)rofessing to be educated. — Cvmmircial .Jdrcrtiscr. 
 
 Uno pre-cuiinent excellence of the work is, that Religion is not madetodo obei- 
 sance to science, or reason, but merely accepts their hand-maid services, in com- 
 mending her pleasant ways, to the judgment andconscienceof captious men.— if «;>- 
 list lirpositnnj. 
 
 Mr. Wood describes the birlh of the elements in language that kindles over the 
 grandeur of creation. The work is replete with the accoimts of fads illustrative 
 of the power of the elemental principles of natural science. We heartily advise 
 every reader of our sheet to place the Mosaic History on the shelves of his library. 
 — Ilad^rr's Alissrncrcr. 
 
 Itj5 subject is one of absorbing interest, treated in a manner deser>'ng the highest 
 encomium we can bestow. — Courier S,- Rnqutrer. . . 
 
 This is a most interesting book, and it is as useful as a is mteresting. How 
 much belter is it for the searcher alter truth to read h" "•"'c in connexion wall 
 works of this kind, tlian to couHne himself to the c^eculationsof the bigot, or tho 
 dreams of the enthusiast. We hope that ihi- •I'J'y written treatise will receive 
 the attention it merits.— c7/r/ft</'aM /«<rZZ/>'"^^'"; 
 
 We have not yet given it a thorouf^"' P^ r"-''"'. ""t "e have read enough to en- 
 gage our attentioii, and to wish ihr- n was twice as long as it \s.— Utica FJuci- 
 
 To clergymen and other? *viiosc libraries are small, it will be especially useful ; 
 for it embraces almost tlu' wh"'c circle of the Natural Sciences, and contains mucli 
 valuable thooloav.— /^/»/.ff<'/'«^ IVatchman. 
 
 It is with peculiar pl«isure that we welcome from the press, such works as the 
 one beforfi »is, in wW^h we are called to view with rational and enlightened sci- 
 ence, the stupend^'us fabric of creation ns evidencing a "marvrllous display of Om- 
 nipotence" a«^uringu3 of the Divine existence. — Christian Watchman. 
 
DISCOURSES ON VARIOUS SUBJECTS, relative to the 
 Being and Attributes of Grod, and his works in Creation, Provi- 
 dence, and Grace. By Adam Clahkk, LL.D. F.A.S. &c. «&c., 2 
 vols. 8vo. — Handsomely bound, with double title, with a superior 
 portrait of Dr. Clarke, eni^raved in the bet^t manner upon steel. 
 Price S 
 
 In those sermons that are now before u?, there is a depth of penetration, an ac- 
 cuteness of resioarch, and a vigorous raiifje of thought, wliicli, in modern discour- 
 ses, we but rarely find. Tliese are accompanied with sucli ;i \\ imntli of devotional 
 feeling, such a rich vein of piety, and such a stroni; regard to the fundamental doc- 
 trines of the gospel, as greatly toeulianco tlicir value. All this, iiowcver, was e.\- 
 pectod from the author's well-known talents, and literary character ; and few, we 
 believe, will complain of disappoinuiieni. — Imperial Mugazine. 
 
 The venerable author of these sermons, has for many years ranked among the 
 most eminent minislers of the present age ; and we are glad that he lias been pre- 
 vailed upon to commit to the press these specimens of hisiiisiructive and energetic 
 preaching. Possessed of astrengtliof mind far greater than tiiat which falls to the 
 lot of ordinary men, and extensively acquaiiiK^d with Oriental literature, nearly 
 the whole of his life has been devoted to the study of the Holy Scriptures. Accus- 
 tomed to weigh their phraseology, to investigate their rights and ceremonies, the 
 arts and scicncesf the historical facts and characters, to which reference is 
 made in the inspired records, he is eminently qnalilied to throw light on their sa- 
 cred contents. •(<***** 
 
 Some of the discourses are of considerable length, and of great value. Forcom- 
 prehension of thought, clear and forcible argumentation, and profound views of 
 Divine truth, some of them are equal to the best temions of Farimion, Barrow, 
 or South ; but on the subject of personal godliness, tiiey are incomparably super ior 
 to any thing that those eminent Divines and i)reachers ever wrote. We know of 
 no Sermons in which so much learning is brought to bear upon the ail-hnportant 
 subject of experimental xeV\g\on.— lVcslcijman Jht/tu<li.-t .Magazine. 
 
 LIFE OF PATRICK HENRY, by Wiu.iam Wirt, Esa. Fourth 
 revised edition, with a portrait of Patrick Henry. 1 vol. 8vo. — 
 Price 
 
 WirVs JAfc of Henry.— tio man living was better fitted than tlie Hon. William 
 Wirt, to write the life of Patrick Henry. No son could have iliuslrntotl and sought 
 out amidst the discordant elements of faction and misrepresentation, the noble 
 traits of a father's character more faithfully, and more in the spirit of filial love, 
 than Wirt has done in the case of Henry. It is indeed, a wonder that a splendid 
 edition of this work has never before been presented to the American public, as 
 all the former editions lusve made but an indiflereut api)carance. This admirable 
 volume sJiouid be found in every American Library. — Butl<rcr\-< .Messenger. 
 
 Of the merits of tliis work, wiiich ranks among the American classics^ it is su- 
 
 f»erfluous to speak. Few /fmerican IJiographies, if any, have been more popu- 
 ar, and it deserves the jjopularity it has attained as well on account of its literary 
 merits, as for the interesting character of the illustrious individual whose fame it 
 Xftzoxil'A.— Commercial .ddvertiscr. 
 
 MEMOIRS of the. LIFE and MINISTRY of the Rev. JOHN 
 SUMMER^lELD, A. M., late a preacher in connexion with the 
 Methodist Epw-opal Church in America. By John Holland. 
 With an mtroductu-y Letter, by jAMii.s Montgomery. 
 A fervent, fearless, self-8acrirKij,„ preacher, the delicht of wondering, weeping 
 and admiring aiidiencoi!, wherever -i^ wcin.—Motihromety. 
 
 1 have leadthe life of the llev. John fc-^nrnfrnelcfwiih L'rcat satisfaction. It is 
 a very interesting record, and I trust wiir,..y,„„n. ,i,c imcreslsof our common 
 Christianity, of which Mr. S. was so bright an t-^qauient ; and so happy an exam- 
 ple «)f the union of zeal with Catholicism and of talbats with humilitv —Profe-isor 
 SiUimanofYiile.L4,ncge. '' ' 
 
 Life, of Summrrfie.ld.—'Wv have been reading with niurh satisfaction the IVle- 
 moirsof this popular and di-voted young minister. Tilt lK»ok exhibits n spt-cimcn 
 of Hiograjdiy as beautiful and finished as simplicity, puvUv, and force of style, 
 united to rlchnetis and chatrteness of ornament, can well makei- und the maleridU 
 
are Intcrcstfnj! and instnicllvc— and what la no small praise, it i« laudably purged 
 of bigotry ami soclarianlsin. — VuUh Ilrj'unncd .Magazine. 
 
 Tlii.s IS a workolrarecvcellfiicf. We speak not now of its literary merit. We 
 speak of a liiuljcr quality. It is the simple; and touching '^tory of one who, for a 
 few brief yeais, livrd and labored and .-utTerrd among u.s in the cause of Christ, 
 and was not, ''■-■ ' • '• him. It is one of those lew hooks which we read with 
 hearts full <ji - to God— and we have received much advanlafre and 
 
 much pic-aeiii il<- and recommeud it to our rti'adeis.— Theolo o ical Jie- 
 
 ptrtij/i/. 
 
 The" volume will i with avidity, and read by thousands with plea- 
 
 sure, although tli'v . HOen iiiui ; lint to those who knew him as he liv- 
 
 ed, and read howu. .. >.. .l ..... be a treasure wiUi wliich they will not readily 
 part. — .'ikrcantilc .Idccrtigcr. 
 
 VILLAGE SERMO^'S ; One Hundred and Ont- Plain and Short 
 Discourses, on the ])rinciplc doctrine.s of the Gospel ; intended for 
 the u.se of faiuilie.^, Sunday Schools, or companies assembled for re- 
 ligious instruction, in country ^illagcs, by Gkorge Burder. To 
 which is added, to each sermon, a short prayer, with some general 
 prayers for families, schools, &C. 1 vol. 8vo. 
 
 " Come, let us go forth into the field ; let us lodge in the villages." 
 
 Solomon. 
 This work is got up in the very best style, as regards the quality 
 of the paper, the correctness and beauty of the printing, or the 
 neatness and durability of the binding. As the work is so gene- 
 rally known, it is unnecessary to say any thing in its commenda- 
 tion. 
 
 THE COURSE OF TIME, a Poem, by Robert Pollok, A. M., 
 with a memoir of the Author, an introductory notice, a copious in- 
 dex, and an analysis prefixed to each book, by N, W. Fisk, of Am- 
 herst College. 1 vol. 18mo. — Price 37^ cts. 
 
 The Memoir of the Author, Introductory Notice, Index, and Analvsi?, prepared 
 for this! work bv Mr. Fisk, have considerably enhanced the value of the book, and 
 rendered this edition the most popular of any in the market. 
 
 Persons wishing to procure this edition will please to inquire for Pollok's 
 Course of Time with Fis/c's improvements. It can be obtai.itjd at almost any book 
 store in the United States. 
 
 THE HISTORY OF SANFORD AND MERTON, by Tho- 
 mas Day, Esq. Re\i.sed by the Author of American Popular Les- 
 sons. Handsomely printed on fine pai>er, and illustrated with three 
 wood engravings. I vol. 18mo. 
 
 "The history of Sanford and Merlou, written fifty years ago, is at this moment 
 the most interesting and edifying of children's books ; highly entertammg, exhibit- 
 ing Uie best examples, inculcating a virtuous conduct, Uie right use of reason, just 
 moral princii)les and useful truth in regard to physical nature, all m the most in- 
 telligible and attractive manner. " 
 
 ZION SONGSTER; a Collection of H}Tnns and Spiritual Songs, 
 generally sung at Camp and Pravcr Meetings, and in revivals of 
 religion. Compiled by Peter D. Myers; with a copperplate fron- 
 tispTece, and vignette titlepage. — 37 1-2 cents. 
 
 " This work comprises some of the best Hymns of Bishop Heber, Mohtgomery, 
 and other modern [wets as well as all those in general use at Camp Meetmgs, &.c. 
 It is briieved to be aVo lessobjecti.mabk- on the L'ro..nd of dog-erel, than most oth- 
 ers published for the :^ame pnrposc-s. " Printed on hne paper and neatly bound. 
 THE DECLARATION OF INDEPENDENCE Constitution 
 of the United States, ^nd Washington's Farewell Address to the 
 Peonle of the United States; in 1 vol. IS^nc— price 2S cents. 
 
GOLDEN TREASURY : consistinrr of select texts of the Bible, 
 with Practical Observations, in procie and verse, for every day in 
 the year. By C. H. V. Bouatsky. Together with a few forms 
 of prayer, for private use. 388 pp. IHino. — price 50 cents. 
 
 THE BIBLE STORY BOOK; taken from the Old and New 
 Testaments; for the use of Cliildren. From the Enjilish edition. 
 Corrected and enlarged by the Author of American Poj)ular Les- 
 sons. In two volumes. The iirst volume, coutaininfr narratives 
 from the Old Testament, is illustrated by 40 beautiful wood cuts, 
 and the second volume, (on the New Testament.) by o'2 wood cuts*. 
 
 "The Bihle Stoiy Book was orissitmlly an rnplisl) puljlicntion. It containti 
 brief and inlellif!;iblc narratives of fact^: lelaled in llic Old and Ne\v Teslamenip. 
 Tliese narratives art- iaterniixcd will) mora! and religious applications, su( h as all 
 children can understand, and such as can olFcnd no religious denomination. " 
 
 INTRODUCTION TO POPULAR LESSONS ; by the Author 
 of American Popular Lessons, with numerous cuts; designed as a 
 reading i)ook for Young Children. — price 25 cents. 
 
 This little book was prepared expressly for the use of small children jnsl learn- 
 ing to read, and is intended as a fir.tt. reading book ki schools. With a view to 
 Ihia it is printed on a very large and handsome type, and made interesling to the 
 child, as well by its simplicity of .style, as its being filled with cuts or pictures. It 
 lias been e.xtensively introduced into schools, and is found to give perfect satisfac- 
 tion. 
 
 In teaching young children to rend, I have felt the want of a popular book that 
 should teach them to Ihink also. Until teachers or ])arents examine aU the ele- 
 mentary books used by their pupils, until they have the ability to distinsruish 
 which are the. best, and the independence to use those which are adapted to un- 
 practised alid uijfuniished mhids, it will be of small use to write good school 
 hooks ; and until better ones than many of those in present fashion shall be u.scd, 
 half the labor of teaching will be frustrated, except so far as it enriches schoolmas- 
 ters. — Extract from the Jluthor\-! Preface. 
 
 JACOBS' LATIN READER; by Fui-nEHKK J.u ons, and Fre- 
 derick WiLi,i.AM DoHiN'c: : with Notes and Illustrations, partly 
 translated from the German, and partly drawn from other sources. 
 By John D. Ogilhy, Principal of theGrammar School of Coliun- 
 bia College, New- York. I vol. l"2mo. 
 
 THE SYMBOLICAL PRIMER, or CLASS BOOK, No. 1. By 
 E. Hazen. 
 
 ThisPrimer consist."? of two parts. Part the First is coinimsed of .10 pages, and 
 contains 4'.i2 cuts, or pictures, with words cxpres.sing the names of the objects 
 which they reprot^ent directly under t hem. 
 
 Part the Second, is comiio.scd of T'iJ pa-^es, and contains the cuts which are in 
 Part the First, arranged in the same order, with explanations, showing the nature 
 and use of tin? objecis which they rei)rese)it. The explanatioim are short and are 
 designed to answer the purposes both of Iteading and Spelling Les.xons. I'.xpeii- 
 ence ha.'^ proved that words combined in sentences, an>wer a nmcli better piiiitose 
 for Spelling Lessons than when arranged in ct)lniiiiis. Tlie Symbolical Primer, 
 however, is not designed merely to leach children to spell and read, but also t«) 
 communicnte information, adapted to the young mind. If parents and teaclierH 
 will give the latter ubjfxt the weight which it deserve^, liiey will never object to 
 it on the ground that it contains loo many pirtuies and no colninns lor spelling.— 
 The fact is, then- is nothing in columns' of words, arranged for spelling lessons, 
 calculated to «'X(ile the att(-iition or to alfortl the least inslruclion, and consequent- 
 ly children cannot be made to pay nmcli attention to them. Besides the orlhoiira- 
 phy of words Ihus abstractly presented, cannot be r«'meinbered without n great 
 deal of ditfirulty, inasmuch as therfc is nothing with which the words can he asso 
 tiatod toaa^i-st th« memory. 
 
" THE SPELLER and DEFINER, or CLASS BOOK, No. 2," 
 
 by tin.' panic Author, is (lfsi<i;iif(l, a.s lliciiame iniiioits, to answer the piiri>osc'S ol a 
 Spelling Hook and an Kxposiioror Dictionary. It is composed of 21.") pajips, and 
 contains aliont HOOO woids, which are explained and pronounced according to the 
 best aulhoiiiies. 
 
 As a l)ook to he committed to memory, it answers a nuich better purpose than a 
 pchool dictionary, as it contains a h'ss number of words, and such only as are in 
 common use. The words beint? chisscd also according to tlieir parts of speecli, 
 and arranped under dilfcront lieads, accordinj,' to the nmnber of letters or syllables 
 of which they arc composed, can l»e coinniilted to memory in less than half tlie 
 time which is consumed in conmiitliii^- the sanx; number, arranged on the conuuon 
 pian. The time usually devoted to a t^pelling Book, will be abundantly sntficieni 
 to become well acquainted witii "77tc Sywholirnl rrimer''' and "77/f Spr/lir ami 
 J)ijincr," so that the knowledge of the nu;auingof the words and other information 
 which may be obtained, will be clear gain to the jiupil. 
 
 ENGLISH GRAMMAR, in Familiar Lectures, accompanied by 
 a Compendium; embracing a new systematic order of Parsing, a 
 new system of pimctuation, Exercises in False Syntax, and a sys- 
 tem of Philosophical Grammar, in notes : to which are added, an 
 Appendix, and a Key to the Exercises. Designed for the use ol 
 Schools and Private Learners. By Samuel Kirkham. 
 
 " S. Kirkham, E.siq.— I have examined your Grammar with attention, and witli 
 a particular view to benefit the institution under my charge. I am fully satisfied 
 that it is the best form in which Murray's principles have been given to the pub- 
 lic. The lectures are ample, and given in so familiar and easy language, as to be 
 readily understood, even by a tyro in grammar. 
 
 " I feel it due to say, that I commenced the examination of your work, under c 
 strong prejudice airainst it, in cons(!queiue of the numerous ' improved systems' 
 with which the public has been iiiniulated of late, most of which are by no means 
 improvements on Murray, but the productions of individuals whom a " little irram- 
 mar has rendered grammatically insane. '' My convictions, therefore, are the re 
 f^Ult of investigation. 
 
 •' I wish you, Sir, success in your publication. 
 
 " Respectfully, 
 
 "EBER WHEATOX. 
 Pr. of Mechanic's Society School. '' 
 
 Upwards of six humb-rd otlier recommendations have been presented to the au 
 thor, equally flattering with the above. 
 
 LEVIZAC'S FRENCH GRAMMAR; a theoretical and practi 
 cal Grammar of tlie French Tongue, in which the present usage ii 
 displayed, agreeal)ly to the decisions of the French Academy. B3 
 M. Dc Levizac. 1 vol. 12vo. 
 
 PLAYFAIR'S EIJCLTD ; Elements of Geometry, containing th< 
 first six Books of Euclid, with a Supplement on the Quadrature o 
 the Circle, and the Geometry of Solids: to which are added, Ele 
 ments of Plane and Spherical Trigonometry. By JouN Pf.ayfair 
 F. R. S., Professor of Natural Philosophy," formerly of Mathema- 
 tics, in the University of Edinburgh. From the last London edi 
 tion, enlarged. 1 vol. 8vo. 
 
 JACOBS' GREEK READER; by Frederick Jacobs, Professo; 
 of the Gymna.sium at Gotha, and Editor of the Anthologia, togethc: 
 with Improvements, additional Notes, and Corrections; by Davit 
 Patters:on, A. M., late Rector of the Grammar School of Kirk 
 wall, and Teacher of Languages in New- York, 1 vol. 8vo. 
 
 ELEMENTARY PRIMER, or Fir.st Lessons for Children ; beint 
 an Introduction to the Elementary Spelling Book. By Noaii Web 
 STER, LL.D. 
 
(') 
 
 CLARKE'S COMMENTARY on the Old and New-TeetJinicnt, 
 complotc in G vols, royal octavo, well bound. Methotli<t Book 
 Room edition— Price S13,34. 
 
 The New Testament alone, same edition and same style of bind- 
 ing, in two vols. — Price S1,00. 
 
 METHODIST HYMNS.— Methodist Book Room edition- four 
 different sizes, at the following prices : viz. 
 ]'2 mo. plain sl)eep, §1 00 
 
 'J4 ' 
 
 do. 
 
 
 50 
 
 48 ' 
 
 do. 
 
 
 50 
 
 72 * 
 
 ' on Pearl t^^pe, 
 
 do. 
 
 31 
 
 All the books published by the Methodist Book Concern, are sup- 
 plied, (either at wholesale or retail,) precisely on their terms. 
 
 SCHOOL BOOKS.— Webster's, Picket's, Cobb's, Bentley's, and 
 Cumming's Spellings; Daboll's, Willett's, Colburn's, ' Pike's, 
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