And now', farewell'. Time unrevoked has run'
His wonted course', yet what I wished', is done'.
By contemplation's help', not sought in vain',
I seem t' have lived my childhood o'er again";
To have renewed the joys that once were mine',
Without the sin of violating thine';

And', while the wings of fancy still are free',
And I can view this mimick show of thee',
Time has but half succeeded in his theft',
Thyself removed', thy power to sooth me', left'.

SECTION XVIII.

Man was made to Mourn.-Burns.

A DIRGE.

(The reader is desired to pay particular attention to the Rhetorical marks, and to the words pronounced at the bottom of the pages.)

WHEN Chill November's surly blast'

Made fields and forests bare',

One evening, as I wandered forth'

Along the banks of Ayr',

I spied a man whose aged step'
Seemed weary', worn with care';
His face was furrowed o'er with years',
And hoary was his hair'.

Young stranger', whither wand'rest thou"?
Began the rev'rend sage';

Does thirst of wealth thy step constrain',
Or youthful pleasure's rage'?

Or', haply', prest with cares and woes',
Too soon thou hast began'b

To wander forth with me', to mourn'
The miseries of man'.

The sun that overhangs yon moors',
Outspreading far and wide',
Where hundreds labour to support'
A haughty lordling's pride'-
I've seen yon weary winter's sun'
Twice forty times return';
And every time has added proofs',
That man was made to môurn'.

O mân"! while in thy early years',
How prodigal of time!
Misspending all thy precious hours',
Thy glorious', youthful prime'.

*A-gen. Be-gun.

Alternate follies take the sway',

Licentious passions burn';

Which tenfold force gives nature's law',
That man was made to môurn'.

Look not alone on youthful prime',
Or manhood's active might';
Man', then', is useful to his kind';
Supported is his right';

But see him on the edge of life',

With cares and sorrows wôrn';
Then', age and want', oh'! ill-matched pair'!
Show'.. man was made to mourn'.

A few seem favourites of fate',
In pleasure's lap caressed';
Yet think not all the rich and great'
Are likewise truly blest':

But', oh'! what crowds in every land',
Are wretched and forlorn'!
Through weary life this lesson learn',
That man was made to môurn'.

Many and sharp the num'rous ills'
Inwoven with our frame';

More pointed still we make ourselves',
Regret', remorse', and shame';
And man', whose heaven-erected face'
The smiles of love adorn'-
Man's inhumanity to man',

Makes countless thousands mourn".

See yonder pôôr', o'erlaboured wight',
So abject', mean', and vile',
Who begs a brother of the earth'
To give him leave to tôîl';
And see his lordly fellow-worm'
The poor petition SPURN',
Unmindful', though a weeping wife',
And helpless offspring mourn'.

If I'm designede yon lordling's SLAVE',
By nature's law designed'

Why was an independent wish'

E'ere planted in my mind'?

If not, why am I subject to'

His cruelty', or scorn'?

Or why has man the will and power

To make his fellow mourn'?

Al-ter'nåte-not, awl-ter'nate. Få'vår-its. Dé-sinde'-not, de-zinde'. 'In-de-pên'dênt. eåre.

Yet', let not this too much', my son',
Disturb thy youthful breast';
This partial view of human kind'
Is surely not the last'.

The poor', oppressed', honest man',
Had never sure been bôrn',
Had there not been some recompense'
To comfort those that mourn'.

O death! the poor man's dearest friênd',
The kindest and the best';

Welcome the hour my aged limbs'
Are laid with thee at rest'.

The great', the wealthy', fear thy blow',
From pomp and pleasure torn';
But', oh'! a blest relief to those'
That weary-laden'... mourn'.

SECTION XIX.

To the Skies.-BRYANT.

Ar', gloriously thou standest there',
Beautiful', boundless firmamentb
That', swelling wide o'er earth and air',
And round the horizon bent',
With that bright vault and sapphire wall',
Dost overhang and circle all'.

Far', far below thee', tall gray trees'
Arise', and piles built up of old',
And hills', whose ancient summits freeze'

In the fierce light and cold'.

The eagle soars his utmost height';

Yet far thou stretchest o'er his flight'.

Thou hast thy frowns': with thee', on high',
The storm has made his airy seat':
Beyond thy soft blue curtain lie'

His stores of hail and sleet':

Thence the consuming lightnings break';
There the strong hurricanes awake':

Yet art thou prodigal of smiles'

Smiles sweeter than thy frowns are stern':

Earth sends', from all her thousand isles',
A song at their return';

The glory that comes down from thee',
Bathes in deep joy the land and sea'.

•Me-when not emphatical. Fêr'må'ment.

Ho-ri'zon. *Dist.

The sun', the gorgeous sun', is thine'

The pomp that brings and shuts the day';
The clouds that round him change and shine'
The airs that fan his way'.

Thence look the thoughtful stars', and there'
The meek moon walks the silent air'.

The sunny Italy may boast'

The beauteous teints that flush her skies';
And', lovely', round the Grecian coast',

May thy blue pillars rise':—

I only know how fair they stand'
About my own beloved land'.

And they are fair': a charm is theirs',

That earth the proud', green earth'-has not',

With all the bues', and forms', and airs',
That haunt her sweetest spot'.

We gaze upon thy calm', pure sphere',
And read of heaven's eternal year'.

Oh' when', amid the throng of men',
The heart grows sick of hollow mirth',
How willingly we turn us', then',
Away from this cold earth',

And look into thy azurea breast',
For seats of innocenceb and rest!!

SECTION XX.

The Musick of the Ocean.-WALSH's National GAZETTE

"And the people of this place say, that, at certain seasons, beautiful sounds are heard from the ocean."-Mavor's Voyages.

LONELY and wild its rose,

That strain of solemn musick from the sea,
As though the bright air trembled to disclose
An ocean mystery.

Again a low, sweet tone,

Fainting in murmurs on the listening day,
Just bade the excited thought its presence own,
Then died away.

Once more the gush of sound,
Struggling and swelling from the heaving plain,
Thrilled a rich peal triumphantly around,
And fled again.

å'zhůre. In'nd-sense-not, in'no sunse. Poetick license,

O, boundless deep! we know

Thou hast strange wonders in thy gloom concealed,
Gems, flashing gems, from whose unearthly glow
Sunlight is sealed.

Or to mankind allied,

Toiling with wo, and passion's fiery sting,
Like their own home, where storms or peace preside,
As the winds bring?

Alas, for human thought!

How does it flee existence, worn and old,
To win companionship with beings wrought
Of finer mould!

"Tis vain the reckless waves

Join with loud revel the dim ages flown,
But keep each secret of their hidden caves
Dark and unknown.

SECTION XXI.

The Ocean, at the Resurrection Morn.-POLLOCK.

GREAT Ocean!! too', that morning', thou the call
Of restitution heardst', and reverently

To the last trumpet's voice', in silence listenedst'.
Great Ocean! strongest of creation's sons',
Unconquerable', unreposed', untired',

That rolledst the wild', profound', eternal base
In nature's anthem', and madest musick', such
As pleased the ear of God"! original',
Unmarred', unfaded' work of Deity',
And unburlesqued by mortal's puny skill';
From age to age enduring and unchanged',
Majestical', inimitable', vast';

Loud uttering satire', day and night', on each
Succeeding race', and little', pompous work