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EVER charming, ever new,
SOLITUDE. It was in this lone valley she would charm The ling'ring noon, where flowers a couch had
strewn; Her cheek reclining, and her snowy arm On hillock by the palm-tree half o'ergrown: And aye that volume on her lap is thrown, Which every heart of human mould endears ; With Shakspeare's self she speaks and smiles alone, And no intruding visitation fears, To shame th' unconscious laugh, or stop her sweetest
ABOVE all things raillery decline,
For all must grant it needs no common art
"Passing away is written on the world, and all the world contains."
It is written on the trees
As their young leaves glistning play ;
Where the spirit's ardent ray
Alas! that there decay
Where the spoiler finds no prey,
Pass not away?
With the thoughts that in them lay,
Which pass away?
Speed, speed, thou closing day!
THE GIFT OF A BIBLE.
BEHOLD that Book,-o'er which, from ancient time,
Sad penitence hath pour'd the prayerful breath, And meek devotion bow'd with joy sublime,
And Nature arm'd her for the strife of death, And trembling Hope renew'd her wreath divine, And Faith an anchor gain'd :--that holy Book is thine. Behold the Book,—whose sacred truths to spread,
Christ's heralds toil beneath a foreign sky, Pouring its blessings o'er the heathen's head,
A martyr-courage kindling in their eye. Wide o'er the globe its glorious light must shine, As glows the arch of heaven :-that holy Book is
thine. Here search with humble heart, and ardent eye,
Where plants of peace, in bloom celestial grow, Here breathe to Mercy's ear the contrite sigh,
And bid the soul's unsullied fragrance flow, To Him who shuts the rose at even-tide, And opes its dewy eye when earliest sunbeams glide. May heaven's pure spirit touch thy youthful heart,
And guide thy feet through life's eventful lot, That when from this illusive scene I part,
And in my grave lie mould'ring and forgot, This my
first gift, like golden link may join Thee to that angel-band around the throne divine.
"One struggle more, and I am free."
Byron. LEAVE me, oh! leave me!-unto all below, Thy presence binds me with too deep a spell,
Thou makest these mortal regions, whence I go, Too mighty in their loveliness-farewell,
That I may part
peace. Leave me! thy footstep with its lightest sound, The very shadow of thy waving hair,
Wake in my soul a feeling too profound,
Oh! bid the conflict cease!
I hear thy whisper-and the warm tears gush Into mine eyes, the quick pulse thrills my heart!
Thou bid'st the peace, the reverential hush, The still submission from my thoughts depart.
Dear one! this must not be.
The past looks on me from thy mournful eye, The beauty of our free and vernal days,
Our communings with sea, and hill, and skyOh! take that bright world from my spirit's gaze!
Thou art all earth to me!
Shut out the sunshine from my dying room, The jasmine's breath, the murmur of the bee;
Let not the joy of bird-notes pierce the gloom, They speak of life, of summer, and of thee
Too much-and death is here!
Doth our own spring make happy music now,
Are the broad lilies imaged in its flow?
From the dread hour so near!
If I could but draw courage from the light Of thy clear eye, that ever shone to bless!
-Not now! 't will not be now my aching sight Drinks from that fount a flood of tenderness
Bearing all strength away!
Leave me! thou comest between my heart and
Why must our souls thus love, and thus be riven! Return!-thy parting wakes my agony !
Oh! yet awhile delay!