Be proud, as thy deserts are great,— THE ASSURANCE OF OVID. Now have I done my work!-which not Jove's ire My name shall never die: but through all time, POST-LETTERS. LOTTERY tickets every day,― And ever drawn a blank! Yet none the less we pant and pray Morn by morn, and week by week, They cheat us, or amuse, Whilst on we fondly hope, and seek Some stirring daily news. The heedless postman on his path He bears the seeds of life and death, I hope-what hope I not ?-vague things I dread-as vague imaginings, Fame's sunshine, fortune's golden dews May now be hovering o'er, Or the pale shadow of ill news O Mystery, master-key to life, And tempt thy perilous power; See, on my neighbour's threshold stands Yon careless common man, Bearing, perchance, in those coarse hands, My Being's altered plan! My germs of pleasure, or of pain, Of trouble, or of peace, May there lie thick as drops of rain Who knoweth ? may not loves be dead,Or those we loved laid low, Who knoweth? may not wealth be fled, And all the world my foe? ALAS, we do but act; we are not free; My trammeled spirit strives to break, in vain: How strangely different myself from me! Thoughtful in solitude, serenely blest, Crown'd and enthroned in mental majesty, Equal to all things great, and daring all, I muse of mysteries, and am at rest; But, in the midst, some dull intruded guest Topples me from my heights, holding in thrall With his hard eye the traitor in my breast, That before humbler intellects is cow'd, Silently shrinking from the common crowd, And only with the highest self-possest. ON AN INFANT.* LOOK on this babe; and let thy pride take heed, Thy pride of manhood, intellect, or fame, That thou despise him not: for he indeed, And such as he, in spirit and heart the same Are God's own children in that kingdom brigh Where purity is praise,—and where before The Father's throne, triumphant evermore, The ministering angels, sons of light, Stand unreproved; because they offer ther Mix'd with the Mediator's hallowing pray'ı The innocence of babes in Christ like this: O guardian Spirit, be my child thy care, Lead him to God, obedience and bliss, To God, O fostering cherub, thine and his! * William Knighton Tupper, the Author's second son |