So your verse-man I, and Clerk,
Yearly in my song proclaim
Death at hand-yourselves his mark--
And the foe's unerring aim.
Duly at my time I come,
Publishing to all aloud,-
Soon the grave must be your home,
And your only suit a shroud.
But the monitory strain,
Oft repeated in your ears, Seems to sound too much in vain, Wins no notice, wakes no fears.
Can a truth, by all confessed
Of such magnitude and weight,
Grow, by being oft impressed,"
Trivial as a parrot's prate?
Pleasure's call attention wins,
Hear it often as we may;
New as ever seem our sins,
Though committed every day.
Death and judgment, Heaven and HellThese alone, so often heard,
No more move us than the bell
When some stranger is interred.
Oh then, ere the turf or tomb
Cover us from every eye,
Spirit of instruction! come,
Make us learn that we must die.
Felix, qui potuit rerum cognoscere causas,
Atque metus omnes et inexorabile fatum
Subjecit pedibus, strepitumque Acherontis avari!-VIRG.
Happy the mortal who has traced effects
To their first cause, cast fear beneath his feet,
And Death and roaring Hell's voracious fires?
THANKLESS for favours from on high,
Man thinks he fades too soon;
Though 'tis his privilege to die,
Would he improve the boon.
But he, not wise enough to scan
His blest concerns aright,
Would gladly stretch life's little span
Το ages, if he might ;
To ages in a world of pain,
To ages, where he goes
Galled by affliction's heavy chain,
And hopeless of repose.
Strange fondness of the human heart,
Enamoured of its harm!
Strange world, that costs it so much smart,
And still has power to charm.
Whence has the world her magic power?
Why deem we Death.a foe P
Recoil from weary life's best hour,
And covet longer woe?
The cause is Conscience :-Conscience oft
Her tale of guilt renews;
Her voice is terrible though soft,
And dread of Death ensues.
Then anxious to be longer spared
Man mourns his fleeting breath:
All evils then seem light, compared
With the approach of Death.
"Tis judgment shakes him; there's the fear,
That prompts the wish to stay:
He has incurred a long arrear,
And must despair to pay.
Pay!-follow Christ, and all is paid:
His death your peace ensures;
Think on the grave where He was laid,
And calm descend to yours.
De sacris autem hæc sit una sententia, ut conserventur.
But let us all concur in this one sentiment, that things sacred De inviolate.
He lives who lives to God alone,
And all are dead beside;
For other source than God is none
Whence life can be supplied.
To live to God is to requite
His love as best we may;
To make his precepts our delight,
His promises our stay.
But life, within a narrow ring
Of giddy joys comprised,
Is falsely named, and no such thing,
But rather death disguised.
Can life in them deserve the name,
Who only live to prove
For what poor toys they can disclaim
An endless life above?
Who, much diseased, yet nothing feel,
Much menaced, nothing dread;
Have wounds which only God can heal,
Yet never ask His aid?
Who deem His house a useless place,
Faith, want of common sense;
And ardour in the Christian race,
A hypocrite's pretence?
Who trample order; and the day
Which God asserts His own
Dishonour with unhallowed play,
And worship chance alone?
If scorn of God's commands, impressed
On word and deed, imply
The better part of man unblessed
With life that cannot die;
Such want it, and that want, uncured
Till man resigns his breath,
Speaks him a criminal, assured
Of everlasting death.
Sad period to a pleasant course!
Sabbaths profaned without remorse,
And mercy cast away.
THE POET'S NEW YEAR'S GIFT.
MARIA! I have every good
For thee wished many a time,
Both sad and in a cheerful mood,
But never yet in rhyme.
To wish thee fairer is no need,
More prudent or more sprightly,
Or more ingenious, or more freed
From temper-flaws unsightly.
What favour then not yet possessed
Can I for thee require,
In wedded love already blessed,
To thy whole heart's desire?
None here is happy but in part;
Full bliss is bliss divine;
There dwells some wish in every heart,
And doubtless one in thine.
That wish, on some fair future day
Which fate shall brightly gild,
('Tis blameless, be it what it may,)
I wish it all fulfilled.
FORCED from home and all its pleasures,
Afric's coast I left forlorn,
To increase a stranger's treasures,
O'er the raging billows borne.
Men from England bought and sold me,
Paid my price in paltry gold;
But, though slave they have enrolled me,
Minds are never to be sold.
Still in thought as free as ever,
What are England's rights, I ask,
Me from my delights to sever,
Me to torture, me to task?
Fleecy locks and black complexion
Cannot forfeit nature's claim;
Skins may differ, but affection
Dwells in white and black the same.
Why did all-creating Nature
Make the plant for which we toil P
Sighs must fan it, tears must water,
Sweat of ours must dress the soil.
Think, ye masters, iron-hearted,
Lolling at your jovial boards,
Think how many backs have smarted
For the sweets your cane affords.
Is there, as ye sometimes tell us,
Is there One who reigns on high?
Has He bid you buy and sell us,
Speaking from His throne, the sk7
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