Behold it at the midnight hour;

Behold its myriad worlds, and try

To fathom th' Almighty's power:

To trace the wonders of His hand

Upon the bosom of the deep,

When mountain-like, sublimely grand,

From shore to shore proud billows sweep.

Behold! and tell me how you dare

Presume to mock the Deity?

How in the face of Heaven to wear
That damning mask Hypocrisy ?

N

Does not the Great Eternal know

The inmost secrets of the heart?

Does not the Great Eternal know

Who acts or saint's or sinner's part?

Time.

"Time doth transfix the flourish set on youth,
And delves the parallels in beauty's brow;

Feeds on the rarities of Nature's truth,

And nothing stands but for his scythe to mow."

SHAKSPERE.

OW short's the allotted time of man!

How fleeting his appointed day!

A momentary breath, a span,

A shadow flitting fast away.

Yet there are those who seem to think

Life's transient joys will ne'er be o'er

That they will at the fountain drink

Of earthly bliss for evermore:

That they shall call their lands their own
For years, for ages yet to come;

Reap that which other hands have sown,

And balk the still insatiate tomb.

The Adulteress.

"Of all wild beasts preserve me from a tyrant;

Of all tame, a flatterer."

BEN JONSON.

H! come with me, and take your fill of love,

""Tis that alone which rules the realms above;"

I'll draw my silken curtains round your head,
With myrrh and cassia perfume my bed.
Then come, enjoy the midnight hour with me,
This snow-white bosom shall your pillow be,
Where you may slumber till the morning light
Has chased away the blissful hours of night.

He followed;-but, like one in battle slain,

He fell, alas! no more to rise again!

H! if there be a sight I love to see,

It is the poor man in his humble cot, Content and happy as frail man can be,

(However poor) with his appointed lot!

It is the man who cheerfully will work,

In just obedience to his Maker's will;

The man who never willingly doth shirk

The task which Heaven designed him to fulfil.