LOVE YOUR ENEMIES.

ANGRY looks can do no good,
And blows are dealt in blindness;
Words are better understood,
If spoken but in kindness.

Simple love far more hath wrought
Although by childhood muttered,
Than all the battles ever fought,

Or oaths that men have uttered.

Friendship oft would longer last,
And quarrels be prevented,
If little words were let go past,
Forgiven-not resented.

Foolish things are frowns and sneers,
For angry thoughts reveal them;
Rather drown them all in tears,

Than let another feel them.

THE CHARM OF CLASSIC ASSOCIATIONS.

How different from this period become the sentiments with which the scenery of nature is contemplated, by those who have any imagination; the beautiful forms of ancient mythology, with which the fancy of poets peopled every element, are now ready to appear to their minds, upon the prospect of every scene. The descriptions of ancient authors, so long admired, and so deserving of admiration, occur to them at every moment, and with them all those enthusiastic ideas of ancient genius and glory, which the study of so many years of youth, so naturally leads them to form. Or, if the study of modern poetry has succeeded to that of the ancient, a thousand other beautiful associations are acquired, which instead of destroying, serve easily to unite with the former, and to afford a new source of delight. The awful forms of Gothic superstition, the wild and romantic imagery, which the turbulence of the middle ages, the crusades, and the institution of chivalry have spread over every country of Europe, arise to the imagination in every scene; accompanied with all those pleasing recollections of prowess and adventure, and courteous manners, which distinguished those memorable times; with such images in their minds, it is not common nature that appears to surround them. It is nature embellished

THE CHARM OF CLASSIC ASSOCIATIONS.

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and made sacred by the memory of Theocritus and Virgil, and Milton and Tasso; their genius seems still to linger among the scenes which inspired it, and to irradiate every object where it dwells; and the creations of their fancy seem the fit inhabitants of that nature, which their descriptions have clothed with beauty.

THE ADVENT.

SWEETLY peals a holy anthem,
Echoed from the bending sky;

Listen to its precious burden-
"Glory be to God on high!"

Hark! the mighty strains are breaking
From the angelic choirs again,
Like the ocean in its waking-

"Peace on earth, goodwill to men !"

Bless the Son! Oh, not for ever

Shall the tide of ruin flow,

Writing through the wide earth's kingdoms
"Lamentation, mourning, woe!"

For, upon his glorious mission,
Comes the Prince Emmanuel,

Bringing, in his train from heaven,
Peace and truth on earth to dwell.

THE SECOND ADVENT.

No sound of deadly strife,

No murderous lust of life,

Shall rend the air, or fill the hearts of men,
When, gentle as a dove,

Omnipotent in love,

The Prince of Peace shall visit earth again.

Oh then, where war had rolled,
Through ages dark and old,

His surging billows dyed with human gore;
The stream of God shall glide

To nations far and wide;

While love's deep anthem swells from shore to shore.

The inebriate's fount of woe,

For ever sealed, shall flow

No more, to desolate the homes of men:

The oppressor's iron rod,

Doomed by the living God,

Shall never smite the plundered poor again."

See, see! glad beams of light,
Athwart sin's heavy night,

Stream through the morning's widely opening gates:
All hail! the King of kings

Abroad his banner flings,

And earth subdued, his peaceful reign awaits.

WHAT MIGHT BE DONE.

WHAT might be done, if men were wise, What glorious deeds, my suffering brother, Would they unite,

In love and right,

And cease their scorn of one another?

Oppression's heart might be imbued
With kindling drops of loving kindness,
And knowledge pour,

From shore to shore,

Light on the eyes of mental blindness.

All slavery, warfare, lies, and wrongs,
All vice and crime might die together;
And wine and corn,

To each man born,

Be free as warmth in summer weather

The meanest wretch that ever trod,
The deepest sunk in guilt and sorrow,
Might stand erect

In self-respect,

And share the teeming world to-morrow.