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Flash through the labyrinth of the mazy dance,
With foot as nimble, and as keen a glance-
And we, whom many New Year's days have told
The sober truth, that we are growing old-
For this one night-aye-and for many more,
Will be as jocund as we were of yore,
Kind hearts can make December blithe as May,
And in each morrow find a New-Year's day.
ON A YOUNG MAN DYING ON THE EVE
With contrite tears, and agony of Prayer,
God we besought, thy virtuous youth to spare,
And thought, Oh! be the human thought forgiven,
Thou wert too good to die, too young for heaven-
Yet sure the prayers of love had not been vain,
If death to thee were not exceeding gain.
Tho' for ourselves, and not for thee we mourn,
The weakness of our hearts thou wilt not scorn;
And if thy Saviour's, and thy Father's will,
Such angel love permit, wilt love us still,
For Death, which every tie of earth unbinds,
Can ne'er dissolve the “ marriage of pure minds."
Where Ausonian summers glowing,
Warm the deep to life and joyance,
And gentle zephyrs nimbly blowing ;
Wanton with the waves that flowing
By many a land of ancient glory,
And many an isle renown’d in story,
Leap along with gladsome buoyance,
Do'st thou appear, In faery pinnace gailey flashing, Through the white foam proudly dashing, The joyous play-mate of the buxom breeze, The fearless fondling of the mighty seas.
Thou the light sail boldly spreadest,
O’er the furrow'd waters gliding,
Thou nor wreck, nor foeman dreadest,
Thou nor helm nor compass needest,
While the sun is bright above thee,
While the bounding surges love thee,
In their deepening bosoms hiding,
Thou canst not fear,
Small Marinere, For though the tides with restless motion, Bear thee to the desert ocean, Far as the ocean stretches to the sky, 'Tis all thine own, 'tis all thy empery.
Lame is art, and her endeavour,
Follows nature's course but slowly,
Guessing, toiling, seeking ever,
Still improving, perfect never;
Little Nautilus, thou shewest
Deeper wisdom than thou knowest,
Lore, which man should study lowly :
Bold faith and cheer,
Are thine within thy pearly dwelling,
Thine, a law of life compelling,
Obedience, perfect, simple, glad, and free,
To the great will that animates the sea.
Sweet Love, the shadow of thy parting wings,
Hangs on my soul, like the soft shade of even,
Farewell to thee, for thou art going to Heaven,
And I must stay behind, with all the things
Which thou, and thy benign administerings
Once made most sweet, of sweetness now bereaven ;
Whose memory, as a sour fermenting leaven,
Perverts all nature with an ill that springs
From good corrupted. Oh! for mercy-Love,
Stay with me yet, altho' thy comrade fair,
The smiler Hope, be gone to realms above,
Stay with thy youngest sister, meek Despair-
For meek she is in truth, as brooding dove,
If thou with her the lowly bosom share.
Sar—what is worse than blank despair,
'Tis that sick hope too weak for flying,
That plays at fast and loose with care,
And wastes a weary life in dying.
Though promise be a welcome guest,
Yet may it be too late a comer,
"Tis but a cuckoo voice at best,
The joy of spring, scarce heard in summer.
Then now consent, this very hour,
Let the kind word of peace be spoken ;
Like dew upon a withered flower,
Is comfort to the heart that's broken.
The heart, whose will is from above,
Shall yet its mortal taint discover,
For Time, that cannot alter love,
Has power to slay the wretched lover.
She is not fair to outward view
As many maidens be,
Her loveliness I never knew
Until she smil'd on me ;
Oh! then I saw, her eye was bright,
A well of love, a spring of light.
But now her looks are coy and cold,
To mine they ne'er reply,
And yet I cease not to behold, ,
The love-light in her eye:
Her very frowns are fairer far,
Than smiles of other maidens are.
ON A MOTHER AND THREE INFANTS.
From God they came, to God they went again, No sin they knew, and knew but little pain, And here they lie, by their fond mother's side, Who lived to love and lose them, then she died.