My little doves were taken away My little doves! who lately knew And now, within the city prison The stir without, the glow of passion, The gold and silver's dreary clashing The wheeléd pomp, the pauper tread, These only sounds are heard instead. Yet still, as on my human hand Their chant is soft as on the nest For love, that stirred it in their breast, And, 'neath the city's shade, can keep The well of music clear and deep.. And love, that keeps the music, fills So teach ye me the wisest part, And vocal with such songs as own To me fair memories belong I will have hopes that cannot fade, My spirit and my God shall be TROUBADOUR SONG. - Mrs. Hemans. - THE warrior crossed the ocean's foam His voice was heard where javelin-showers Poured on the steel-clad line; Her step was 'midst the summer-flowers, Her seat beneath the vine. His shield was cleft, his lance was riven, And the red blood stained his crest; While she-the gentlest wind of heaven Might scarcely fan her breast. Yet a thousand arrows passed him by, As roses die, when the blast is come HUMAN FRAILTY. - Couper. WEAK and irresolute is man, The bow well bent and smart the spring, Vice seems already slain; But passion rudely snaps the string, And it revives again. Some foe to his upright intent But pleasure wins his heart. 'Tis here the folly of the wise, Bound on a voyage of awful length, A stranger to superior strength, But oars alone can ne'er prevail To reach the distant coast; The breath of heaven must swell the sail, Or all the toil is lost. THE UNIVERSAL PRAYER. - Pope. FATHER of all! in every age, In every clime, adored, By saint, by savage, and by sage, Thou great First Cause, least understood, Who all my sense confined To know but this, that thou art good, And that myself am blind; Yet gave me, in this dark estate, What conscience dictates to be done, This teach me more than hell to shun, What blessings thy free bounty gives, Let me not cast away; For God is paid when man receives, To enjoy is to obey. Yet not to earth's contracted span Let not this weak, unknowing hand And deal damnation round the land On each I judge thy foe. If I am right, thy grace impart If I Save me alike from foolish pride, At aught thy wisdom has denied, Teach me to feel another's woe; That mercy I to others show, -- |