STANZA S. BY T. RAGG, AUTHOR OF "THE DEITY," AND OTHER POEMS. HIGH on a rocky precipice, A heedless child was playing; Some hundred fathoms deep below, The rock a pillow for his head; The tempest roaring round him, Awhile he lay, for all their rage, The wind and thunder seemed to engage, Combining to astound him. Yet heedless of their mingled roar, Of safety fondly dreaming; He saw not the electric's train, Nor felt the heavy beating rain, From heaven in torrents streaming. At length with louder, deeper sound, He woke—all heaven seemed wrapt in light, That spread its wings before him. Roused from his torpor, he arose, At length the utmost edge he gained, His head turned giddy at the sight, And thence securely bore him. "Tis thus we gaily dance along; That opens wide to swallow. Thus when Mount Sinai's thunders roar, Till woes on all sides bound us. And when our every hope is lost, Nor one bright charm can ease us; Our Father's voice soft whispers peace, Bids all our sad forebodings cease, And leads us safe to Jesus. DE ADVENTU HYEMIS. M. A. FLAMINIUS. JAM brumâ veniente præterivit Formidans, abit. Illum, agri voluptas, Horti, deliciæ meæ, valete! Regum liminibus! Recedo; sensum Sed meum hic animumque derelinquo. TRANSLATION. ON THE APPROACH OF WINTER. BY ARCHDEACON WRANGHAM. SUMMER'S last lingering rose is flown, I hear the coming winter moan The North wind's rage soft Zephyr flies; Then quit we, too, the rural plain; Farewell, ye flowers! ye streams! and thou, Sweet home, than princely hall more dear! Seat of my soul's delight, adieu! I go-but leave my spirit here. |