HOUGH sorrow long has worn my heart;

Though every day I've counted o'er
Hath brought a new and quick'ning smart
To wounds that rankled fresh before;

Though in my earliest life bereft

Of tender links by nature tied;

Though hope deceived, and pleasure left;
Though friends betray'd and foes belied ;

I still had hopes-for hope will stay
After the sunset of delight;

So like the star which ushers day,

We scarce can think it heralds night!—

I hoped that, after all its strife,

My weary heart at length should rest,
And, fainting from the waves of life,
Find harbour in a brother's breast.

That brother's breast was warm with truth,
Was bright with honour's purest ray;
He was the dearest, gentlest youth-
Ah, why then was he torn away?

He should have stay'd, have linger'd here
To soothe his Julia's every woe;

He should have chased each bitter tear,

And not have caused those tears to flow.

We saw within his soul expand

The fruits of genius, nursed by taste; While Science, with a fost'ring hand, Upon his brow her chaplet placed.

We saw, by bright degrees, his mind Grow rich in all that makes men dear ;Enlighten'd, social, and refined,

In friendship firm, in love sincere.

Such was the youth we loved so well,

And such the hopes that fate denied ;We loved, but ah! could scarcely tell

How deep, how dearly, till he died!

Close as the fondest links could strain, Twined with my very heart he grew ; And by that fate which breaks the chain, The heart is almost broken too.

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H fair! oh purest! be thou the dove


That flies alone to some sunny grove,

And lives unseen, and bathes her wing,
All vestal white, in the limpid spring.
There, if the hov'ring hawk be near,
That limpid spring in its mirror clear
Reflects him, ere he reach his prey,
And warns the timorous bird away.
Be thou this dove;

Fairest, purest, be thou this dove.


The sacred pages of God's own book
Shall be the spring, the eternal brook,
In whose holy mirror, night and day,
Thou'lt study Heaven's reflected ray ;-
And should the foes of virtue dare,
With gloomy wing, to seek thee there,
Thou wilt see how dark their shadows lie
Between Heaven and thee, and trembling fly!
Be thou that dove;

Fairest. purest, be thou that dove.



ARK! 'tis the breeze of twilight calling Earth's weary children to repose; While, round the couch of Nature falling, Gently the night's soft curtains close. Soon o'er a world, in sleep reclining, Numberless stars, through yonder dark, Shall look, like eyes of Cherubs shining From out the veils that hid the Ark.

Guard us, O Thou, who never sleepest, Thou who, in silence throned above, Throughout all time, unwearied, keepest

Thy watch of Glory, Pow'r, and Love. Grant that, beneath thine eye, securely, Our souls, awhile from life withdrawn, May, in their darkness, stilly, purely, Like "scaled fountains," rest till dawn.

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