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Th’ élite of these, with awe profound,
In mute astonishment drew round,
Descant on scenes he never saw,
In painting, poetry, or law-
Then one, whose “Incidents of Travel"
Were gleaned from fifty yards of gravel,
Where a vast colony of blacks
Ran to and fro', and worked like hacks
Professor Slogo, from the chair,
Thought they might make a snail-road there, From Dahliastan to Rhubarbania;
But old Wallclimber raised his head,
From all he saw, and all he read,
Wallclimber was a wealthy snail,
The hero of a mossy pale,
As made the younger folk give way
And think a world of wisdom lay
'Twas echoed, therefore, far and wide,
The project must be laid aside,
Toil o'er those thirsty sands, and dare
Or face the limber ants that fare
No! none could cross that path, they said,
So full of danger and of dread :-
-A group of ducks the border filled,
And every heart with horror thrilled,
0! may the tale my memory tells
Of that alarming crash of shells,
Teach me no more to dream away
But, while I can, and while I may,
JOY COMETH IN THE MORNING.
Fill my thought ?
Is there nought,
Soon a ray
Bright with day
In a shroud
Mist and cloud ;
Soon would rise,
Midst the skies,
Many a rill,
Breaks their band, And their music ceases never. Is the sun in heaven no longer,
When the rain
Sweeps the plain!
When its cup,
Waits the smiles and breezes vernal ?
Why should man, then-child of sorrow!
Mourn his doom?
To the cell
Where we dwell?
Even here all pain is fleeting ;
Joy and care
Peace and love
MATINS AND VESPERS.
(Suggested by the discovery of one on New Year's day.)
An! first and fairest flower of spring,
Hail to thy silver ray:
From the cold wintry day.
Sweet harbinger of gentler gales,
Hail bright and lovely gem!
In Flora's diadem.
Emblem of hope! thou tellest us
Of sunny days to come;
Of our bright future home.
Yes! we may learn of thee, sweet flow'r,
To bear life's chilling blast;
To God and heaven at last.
THE HEATH AND THE HAREBELL.
On one of drear November's chilly days,
I found these flowerets growing side by side, Blooming and fair as when the brightest rays
Of sunshine deck'd them in the summer-tide. Far from the busy haunts of men they grew,
Unheeded by the casual passer-by; While all around them bore a sombre hue,
The Harebell wore the colours of the sky. Winter had set his seal upon the earth,
And o'er the land had spread his gloomy wing, But these fair blossoms seem'd to say, that mirth
And gladness would return with coming spring. And thus it fares with man, whose pilgrimage
Is thickly strew'd around with thorns and care, Yet may he learn from Inspiration's page
To give no place to feelings of despair.
Some blessings still will cheer the lonely road,
LIFE, A PILGRIMAGE. HAPPY, O! happy he, who not affecting The endless toils attending worldly cares, With mind reposed, all discontent rejecting, In silent pace his way to heaven prepares; Deeming his life a scene, the world a stage, Whereon man acts his weary pilgrimage.--"Old Author."
TO AN AFFLICTED ONE.
Child of affliction, raise thy drooping head,
Thine Heavenly Father, infinite in love,
But can affliction, then, a right convey