THE LANDSCAPE. EVER charming, ever new, When will the landscape tire the view? The pleasant seat, the ruin'd tower, DYER. SOLITUDE. It was in this lone valley she would charm strewn ; Her cheek reclining, and her snowy arm With Shakspeare's self she speaks and smiles alone, To shame th' unconscious laugh, or stop her sweetest tears. CAMPBELL. RAILLERY. ABOVE all things raillery decline, For all must grant it needs no common art POLITENESS. STUDY, with care, politeness, that must teach STILLINGFLEET. PASSING AWAY. "Passing away is written on the world, and all the world contains." It is written on the trees As their young leaves glist'ning play; It is written on the heart- Should claim from love a part! Friends, friends! oh! shall we meet Shall we know each other's eyes, Oh! if this may be so, Speed, speed, thou closing day! To pass away. MRS. HEMANS. THE GIFT OF A BIBLE. BEHOLD that Book,-o'er which, from ancient time, Sad penitence hath pour'd the prayerful breath, And meek devotion bow'd with joy sublime, And Nature arm'd her for the strife of death, And trembling Hope renew'd her wreath divine, And Faith an anchor gain'd :-that holy Book is thine. Behold the Book,-whose sacred truths to spread, Wide o'er the globe its glorious light must shine, Here search with humble heart, and ardent eye, And opes its dewy eye when earliest sunbeams glide. Thee to that angel-band around the throne divine. THE PARTING. "One struggle more, and I am free." Byron. LEAVE me, oh! leave me!-unto all below, Thy presence binds me with too deep a spell, Thou makest these mortal regions, whence I go, Too mighty in their loveliness-farewell, That I may part in peace. Leave me! thy footstep with its lightest sound, The very shadow of thy waving hair, Wake in my soul a feeling too profound, Too strong, for aught that loves and dies, to bear. Oh! bid the conflict cease! I hear thy whisper-and the warm tears gush Into mine eyes, the quick pulse thrills my heart! Thou bid'st the peace, the reverential hush, The still submission from my thoughts depart. Dear one! this must not be. The past looks on me from thy mournful eye, The beauty of our free and vernal days, Our communings with sea, and hill, and skyOh! take that bright world from my spirit's gaze! Thou art all earth to me! Shut out the sunshine from my dying room, The jasmine's breath, the murmur of the bee; Let not the joy of bird-notes pierce the gloom, They speak of life, of summer, and of thee Too much-and death is here! Doth our own spring make happy music now, If I could but draw courage from the light Of thy clear eye, that ever shone to bless! -Not now! 'twill not be now-my aching sight Drinks from that fount a flood of tenderness Bearing all strength away! Leave me! thou comest between my heart and Heaven! I would be still, in voiceless prayer to die: Why must our souls thus love, and thus be riven! -Return!-thy parting wakes my agony! Oh! yet awhile delay! MRS. HEMANS. |