'Twas in the list of slaughter-and thanked God The sound was not familiar to mine ear.
But it was told me after, that this man
Was one whom lawful violence had forced
From his own home, and wife, and little ones,
Who by his labour lived; that he was one
Whose uncorrupted heart could keenly feel
A husband's love, a father's anxiousness;
That from the wages of his toil he fed
The distant dear ones, and would talk of them
At midnight when he trod the silent deck,
With him he valued,-talk of them, of joys
Which he had known,-oh! God! and of the hour
When they should meet again, till his full heart,
His manly heart, at times would overflow,
Even like a child's, with very tenderness.
Peace to his honest spirit! suddenly
It came, and merciful the ball of death,
That it came suddenly and shatter'd him,
Nor left a moment's agonizing thought
On those he loved so well.
He, ocean deep,
Be thou her comforter,
Who art the widow's friend! Man does not know
What a cold sickness made her blood run back
When first she heard the tidings of the fight!
Man does not know with what a dreadful hope
She listened to the names of those who died;
Man does not know, or, knowing, will not heed,
With what an agony of tenderness
She gazed upon her children, and beheld
His image who was gone. O! God! be thou,
Who art the widow's friend, her comforter!
FLY, envious Time, till thou run out thy race,
Call on the lazy leaden-stepping hours,
Whose speed is but the heavy plummet's pace,
And glut thyself with what thy womb devours,
Which is no more than what is false and vain,
And merely mortal dross;
So little is our loss,
So little is thy gain.
For when as each thing bad thou hast entomb'd, And last of all thy greedy self consum'd,
Then long eternity shall greet our bliss
With an individual kiss;
And joy shall overtake us as a flood,
When every thing that is sincerely good,
And perfectly divine,
With truth, and peace, and love, shall ever shine, About the supreme throne
Of him, to whose happy-making sight alone, When once our heavenly-guided soul shall climb, Then all this earthly grossness quit,
Attir'd with stars, we shall for ever sit,
Triumphing over Death, and Chance, and thee, O!
THOU art no lingerer in monarch's hall;
A joy thou art, and a wealth to all;
A bearer of hope unto land and sea-
Sunbeam! what gift has the world like thee?
Thou art walking the billows, and Ocean smiles;
Thou hast touch'd with glory his thousand isles;
Thou hast lit up the ships and the feathery foam,
And gladden'd the sailor, like words from home.
To the solemn depths of the forest shades,
Thou art streaming on through their green arcades,
And the quivering leaves that have caught thy glow,
Like fire-flies glance to the pools below.
I look'd on the mountain-a vapour lay,
Folding their heights in its dark array;
Thou brokest forth-and the mist became
A crown and a mantle of living flame.
I look'd on the peasant's lowly cot-
Something of sadness had wrapp'd the spot;
But a gleam of thee on its casement fell,
And it laugh'd into beauty at that bright spell.
To the earth's wild places a guest thou art,
Flushing the waste like the rose's heart;
And thou scornest not, from thy pomp, to shed
A tender light on the ruin's head.
Thou tak'st through the dim church-aisie thy way,
And its pillars from twilight flash forth to day,
And its high, pale tombs, with their trophies old,
A re bathed in a flood as of burning gold.
And thou turnest not from the humblest grave,
Where a flower to the sighing winds may wave;
Thou scatter'st its gloom like the dreams of rest,
Thou sleepest in love on its grassy breast.
Sunbeam of summer! oh! what is like thee?
Hope of the wilderness, joy of the sea!
-One thing is like thee, to mortals given, The faith touching all things with hues of heaven.
SUPREME of the sky,-no throne so high,
I reign a monarch divine;
What have ye below, that doth not owe
Its glory and lustre to mine?
Has beauty a charm I have not help'd
To nurture in freshness and bloom?
Can a tint be spread, can a glance be shed,
Like those I deign to illume?
Though ye mimic my beams, as ye do and ye will,
Let all galaxies meet, I am mightiest still.
The first red ray, that heralds my way,
Just kisses the mountain's top;
And splendour dwells in the cowslip bells,
While I kindle each nectar drop.
I speed on my wide, refulgent path,
And Nature's homage is given;
All tones are pour'd to greet me adored,
As I reach the blue mid-heaven.
And the sweetest and boldest, the truly free,
The lark and the eagle, come nearest to me.
The glittering train, so praised by man,
The moon, night's worshipped queen,
The silvery scud, and the rainbow's span,
Snatch from me their colours and sheen.
I know, when my radiant streams are flung,
Creation shows all that is bright;
But I'm jealous of nought, save the face of the
Laughing back my noontide light; [young,
I see nothing so pure or so dazzling on earth,
As childhood's brow with its halo of mirth.
My strength goes down in the crystal caves,
I gem the billow's wide curl;
I paint the dolphin, and burnish the waves,
I tinge the coral and pearl.
the flowers? What power, save mine, Can the velvet rose unfold?
Who else can purple the grape on the vine,
Or flush the wheat-ear with gold?
Look on the beam-lit wilderness spot
'Tis more fair than the palace, where I come not.
Though giant clouds ride on the whirlwind's tide,
And gloom on the world may fall,
I yet flash on in gorgeous pride,
Untarnish'd, above them all.
So the pure, warm heart, for awhile may appear
In probations of sorrow and sin;
To be dimm'd and obscured; but trial or tear Cannot darken the spirit within.
Let the breast keep its truth, and life's shadows
But they quench not, they reach not, the sun nor
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