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He tried to pray-his lips I saw them move,
And he so turn'd his piteous looks above;
But the fierce wind the willing heart oppos'd,
And, ere he spoke, the lips in misery clos'd:
Poor suffering object! yes, for ease you pray'd,
And God will hear-he only, I'm afraid.'

• Peace! Susan, peace! pain ever follows sin!' Ah! then, thought Susan, when will our's begin? 'When reach'd his home, to what a cheerless fire And chilling bed will those cold limbs retire! Yet ragged, wretched as it is, that bed Takes half the space of his contracted shed; I saw the thorns beside the narrow grate, With straw collected in a putrid state: There will he, kneeling, strive the fire to raise, And that will warm him rather than the blaze; The sullen, smoky blaze, that cannot last One moment after his attempt is past.

And I so warmly, and so purely laid,

To sink to rest indeed, I am afraid.’'Know you his conduct? Yes, indeed, I know, And how he wanders in the wind and snow; Safe in our rooms the threat'ning storm we hear, But he feels strongly what we faintly fear.' 'Wilful was rieh : and he the storm defied; Wilful is poor, and must the storm abide`;' Said the stern lady, • 'Tis in vain to feel; Go and prepare the chicken for our meal."

THE TEAR.

Harral.

Twas no unmanly tear that fell,

No coward drop that stained my cheek:
My soul quails not;-the sordid spell
Of worldly suffering I can break-

Contemptuous break-and midst the storm,
And 'midst the wreck of fortune, smile;
Nor let one recreant sigh deform

A breast that's free from fraud or guile !

'Twas not in grief the trembler fell-
Though many a sorrowing tear is due
To her whose bosom's kindly swell,
Responsive, met a flame as true.

She sleeps in peace, and I shall sleep,
Perchance beneath the self-same sod!
Yes! I shall sleep-and thou wilt weep,
Yet, humbly, kiss OUR FATHER's rod.

Thy balmy tear upon my grave

Would soothe-if aught might soothe in deathA spirit that could sternly brave

Earth's evils in its latest breath.

Then chide not for the tear that fell-
It burst from no ignoble source;

The heart's warm throb it rushed to tell

The heart's best feeling urged its course.

Grateful it flowed; that brother's tear
A seraph might have joyed to own!
Grateful it flowed-soul-fraught-sincere-
An offering at a sister's throne.

In bliss supreme that sweet tear fell!
Pure token of as pure a love
As ever woke the tuneful shell-

The golden harp-of saint above!

Accept that tear-nor deem that he

By whom 'twas shed, e'er bore a thought-
A hope-a fear-unworthy thee-

That thou, or thine, could wish unsought.

AN UNFORTUNATE MOTHER TO HER INFANT AT THE BREAST.

Anon.

UNHAPPY Child of indiscretion!

Poor slumb'rer on a breast forlorn,
Pledge and reproof of past transgression,
Dear, though unwelcome to be born.

For thee, a suppliant wish addressing

To Heav'n thy mother fain would dare;
But conscious blushes stain the blessing,
'And sighs suppress my broken pray'r.

But spite of these, my mind unshaken,
In parent pity turns to thee,
Though long repented, ne'er forsaken,
Thy days shall lov'd and guarded be.

And lest the injurious world upbraid thee,
For mine or for thy father's ill,

A nameless mother oft shall aid thee,
A hand unseen protect thee still.

And though to rank and place a stranger,
Thy life an humble course must run,
Soon shalt thou learn to fly the danger,
Which I, too late, have learnt to shun.

Meantime, in the sequester'd valleys,
Here may'st thou rest in safe content,
For innocence may smile at malice,
And thou, O thou, art innocent.

Here too thy infant wants are given
Shelter and rest, and purest air,

And milk as pure-But mercy, Heav'n!

My tears have dropt, and mingled there.

INSCRIPTION FOR A MONUMENT AT SILBURY-HILL.

Southey.

THIS mound, in some remote and dateless day,
Rear'd o'er a chieftain of the Age of Hills,
May here detain thee, Traveller! from thy road
Not idly lingering. In his narrow house
Some warrior sleeps below; his gallant deeds
Haply at many a solemn festival

*The Northern nations distinguish the two periods when the bodies of the dead were consumed by fire, and when they were buried beneath the tumuli so common in this country, by the Age of Fire, and the Age of Hills.

The Bard has harped; but perished is the song
Of praise, as o'er these bleak and barren downs
The wind that passes and is heard no more.
Go, Traveller, and remember when the pomp
Of earthly glory fades, that one good deed
Unseen, unheard, unnoted by mankind,
Lives in th' eternal register of Heaven.

FRIENDSHIP, LOVE, AND TRUTH.

Montgomery.

WHEN Friendship, Love, and Truth abound

Among a band of brothers,

The cup of joy goes gaily round,

Each shares the bliss of others.

Sweet roses grace the thorny way,
Along this vale of sorrow;

The flowers that shed their leaves to-day
Shall bloom again to-morrow.

How grand in age, how fair in youth,
Are holy Friendship, Love, and Truth!

On halcyon wings our moments pass,
Life's cruel cares beguiling;

Old Time lays down his scythe and glass
In gay good-humour smiling;
With ermine beard and forelock grey,

His reverend front adorning,

He looks like Winter turn'd to May
Night soften'd into morning.

How grand in age, how fair in youth,
Are holy Friendship, Love, and Truth!

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