Starting at the minstrel's strain,
Through the ether's yielding plain,
Slumb'ring echoes wake and bear
Earthly sounds to upper air;
Sounds seraphic, so divine,
Angels may in concert join,
And throughout the concave sky,
Swell the heavenly harmony.

Blissful being! o'er the past,

Dost thou brood with soul o'ercast,
When through life thou dost review
Scenes thou long hast bid adieu ?
If thou dost, oh ! pass them by,
Let them in oblivion lie;
Hail the future, to it turn,

Wake to joy and cease to mourn.

Youth and beauty thou can'st claim—
Friendship's truth, affection's flame-
Virtue's crown, and spotless dress-
All that tastes of loveliness
Warm thy heart; its ardent fire
Kindles up the soft desire-
Giveth birth to blissful things,
Heavenly joys to earth it brings.

But, when on thy placid brow
Time's rude hand the furrows plough ;
When upon thy cheek the rose

Doth no more its tints disclose;

Then secure the better part

Treasur'd up in Mary's heart;

Choose the things of heavenly worth,

Earthly joys are but for earth;

That when death insidiously

Robs thee of vitality,

He to thee may kindly give

Deathless life in heaven to live.

NEW YEAR'S DAY REFLECTIONS.

"We take no note of time

But from its loss. To give it then a tongue
Is wise in man."-Young's Night Thoughts.

And are we here?

Yea, we are here, and well,

Brimful of nature's wealth—

The hopeful heart, the roseate hues of health, Peace, happiness, and joy—all, all are ours.

Another year

We've seen, and heard the knell

Rung at the exit of the

year that's past;

We live to-day,

Then let us live as if it were our last ;

And if our last, then may we be prepared

Twelve waning moons have mark'd its dark career,
And witness'd in its course death's carnival,
Empurpling empires in their people's blood,-
Thrones inundating in the gory flood,

And monarchs scarce survive the royal wreck.
Reflection, start! respond the moralist's call;
Come forth, come forth, from out thy silent cell,
And o'er the past with me a moment dwell!
But why the racking of that bosom throe?
Why do the quick pulsations quicker grow?
Why is this numbness on my senses cast?
"Tis memory recoiling from the past,
Veiling it up in horror: so do we.

Homeward our spirit hies to look upon
The rosy hopes around the blazing hearth;
But in the minglings of the roof-rung mirth,
Ah! there is one,

Whose laugh was loudest at the last year's birth,
That now we hear not, nor will hear again :
Untiring Time! still crumbling as ye go,
What tales ye tell at every closing year!
What separations of the loved, the dear,
Ye make, unsparing childhood, youth or age!
We live to-day,

To-morrow, where are we?
Just as we were? even so;
But we may be,

Ere o'er the deep to-morrow's sun arise,
In death's cold grasp-in hell or paradise.

In the silent summer twilight on a mossy bank we lay, Lay and watch'd the widening shadows shutting out the golden day;

Saw the sun in regal splendour to the rosy west retire, And the mists that girt the mountains quench their crests of living fire;

Saw the Eve like some fair maiden train'd in fashion's giddy school, [ful;

Adding to her native beauty charms indeed most beautiSaw her deck her dusky forehead in the gems that angels

wear,

Golden gems that softly twinkled down the opening depths of air, [and tree;

And she hung in rich profusion pearls of dew on shrub Strew'd them on the level meadow-strew'd them on the

sloping lea;

Each within its quivering bosom held the reflex of a star, As a love her lover's image when by distance sever'd far; But the night put on her sackcloth and eclipsed their beaming eyes, [the skiesHid the moon behind her vapours, built the clouds along

Clouds that darkly met and mingled, clouds in wild confusion hurl'd,

Like the ruins of an empire, like the ruins of a world. Then upon the brooding silence, deeper than a Sabbath

calm,

[psalm

Rose the tuneful voice of Nature in her wonted evening From the wind-stirr'd leaves above us, from the rippling brook below,

From the sweet Eolian breezes breaking on the mountain's brow,

[caves, From the ocean's shelly margin, from the replicating All responsive to the thunders or the lispings of the waves.

Lull'd to ease, but not to slumber, giving thought its wildest rein, [of men, Turn'd we from the scenes of nature to the busy haunts To the city darkly sleeping in the bosom of the bay, To the scenes that shrink affrighted from the open eye

day ;

of

[seers,

O! we craved that range of vision gifted to the ancient That our eye might freely wander down the line of future

years;

Or, with narrowing wish, that we might view the good and evil things [springs;

That from out the murky midnight into sudden being And as thus we mutely ponder'd, thus invoked prophetic

power,

Straight before our startled fancy stood the Spirit of the hour

Mercy-eyed and angel-pinion'd, light and lithe in form and limb,

Jewel-crown'd and glory-haloed, like the holy cherubim.