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He called his friends, and prefaced with a

sigh \ lover's message—"Thomas, I must die. * Would I could see my Sally, and could rest Vf y throhhing temples on her faithful hreast, And gazing go !—if not, this trifle take, Vnd say, till death I wore it tor her sake. Yes ! I must die—Blow on, sweet hreeze,

blow on! GJive me one look, hefore my life he gone! 3h! give me that, and let me not despair— One last, fond look! and now repeat the


He had his wish, had more—I will not

paint rhe lovers' meeting—She heheld him faint: With .tender fears, she took a nearer view, Her terrors douhling as her hopes withdrew; He tried to smile, and, half succeeding said, "Yes! I must die!" and hope for ever fled i Still long she nursed him—tender thoughts

mean time Were interchanged, and hopes and views

snhlime* To her he came to die, and every day She took some portion of the dread away; With himshe prayed, to him his Bihle read, Soothed the faintheart, and held the aching

head: She came with smiles the hour of pain to

cheer: Apart she sighed; alone she shed the tear; Then, as if hreaking from a cloud, she gave Fresh light, and gilt the prospect of the grave.

One day he lighter seemed, and they forgot The care, the dread, the anguish of their lot; They spoke with cheerfulness, and seemed

to think, Yet said not so, " Perhaps he will not sink:" A sudden hrightness in his look appeared, A sadden vigour in his voice was heard. She had heen reading in the Book of Prayer, And led him forth, and placed him in his

chair; Lively he seemed, and spoke of all he knew, The friendly many, and the favourite few; Nor one that day did he to mind recal, B ut she has treasured, and she loves them all;

When in her way she meets them, they

appear Peculiar people—death has made them dear. He named his friend, hut then his hand she

prest, And fondly whispered, "Thou most go to

rest:" "I go," he said; hut as he spoke, she found His hand more cold, and fluttering was the

sound t Then gazed a ff rightened; hut she caught a

last, A dying look of love—and all was past!

She placed adecent stone his grave ahove,

Neatly engraved—an offering of her love;

For that she wrought, for that forsook her hed,

Awake alike to duty, and the dead;

She would have grieved, had friends presumed to spare

The least assistance—'twas her proper care.

Here will she come, and on the grave will

sit, Folding her arms, in long ahstracted fit;' But if ohserver pass, will take her round, And careless seem, for she would not he

found; Then go again ; and thus her hour employ, While visions please her, and while woe*


Forhear, sweet maid ! nor he hy fancy led, To hold mysterious converse with the dead; For sure at length thy thoughts, thy spirit's

pain In this sad conflict will disturh thy hrain; All have their tasks and trials I Thine are

hard, But short the time, and glorious the reward; Thy patient spirit to thy duties give, Regard the dead! hut to the living, live!



So sinks the day-star in the ocean-hed And yet anon repairs his drooping head,

And tricks his heams, and with new-spangled


Flames in the forehead of the morningsky;

So Lycidas sank low, hut mounted high,

Through the dear might of him that walk'd

the waves,

Where other groves and other streams

along, With nectar pure his oozy locks he laves,

And hears the unexprcssive nuptial song: In the hlest kingdoms meek of joy and love. There entertain him all the saints ahove,

In solemn troops, and sweet societies, That sine, and singing in their glory move,

And wipe the tears for ever from his eyes.



Prince William, son of King Heury the First, was drowned at sea. His father was never afterwards seen to smile.

The hark that held a prince went down,

The sweeping waves roll'd on;
And what was England's glorious crown

To him that wept a son?
He liv'd—for life may long he horne

Ere sorrow hreak its chain!
Why comes not death to those who mourn 1

He never smil'd again!

There stood proud forms around his throne,

The stately and the hrave;
But which could fill the place of one,

That one heneath the wave?
Before him pass'd the young and fair

In pleasure's reckless train;
But seas dash'd o'er his son's hright hair,

He never smil'd again!

He sat where festal howls went ronnd,
He heard the minstrel sing;

He saw the tournay's victor crown'd
Amidst the knightly ring.

A murmur of the restless deep
Seemed hlent with every strain,

A voice of winds that would not sleep—
He never smil'd again!

Hearts in that time closed o'er the trace

Of vows once fondly poured, And strangers took the kinsman's place,

At many a joyous hoard. Graves which true love had wash'd with tesn

Were left to heaven's hright rain; Fresh hopes were horn for other ye

He never smil'd again 1


C. weSLEY.

The morning flowers display their sweets,
And gay their silken leaves unfold,
As careless of the noontide heats,
As fearless of the evening cold.

Nipt hy the wind's untimely hlast,
Parch'd hy the sun's directer ray,
The momentary glories waste,
The short-liv'd heauties die away.

So hlooms the human face divine,
When youth its pride of heauty shows;
Fairer than spring the colours shine,
And sweeter than the virgin rose.

Or worn hy slowly rolling years,
Or hroke hy sickness in a day,
The fading glory disappears,
The short-liv'd heauties die away.

Yet these new-rising from the tomh,
With lustre hrighter far shall shine,
Revive with ever-during hloom,
Safe from diseases and decline.

Let sickness hlast, let death devour,
If heaven hut recompense our pains I
Perish the grass, and fade the flower,
If firm the word of God remains!



Pure spirit! O where art thoo now

O whisper to my soul! 0 let some soothing thought of thee,

This hitter grief control.

Tis not for thee the tears I 8hed,
Thy sufferings now are o'er;

The sea is calm the tempest past,
On that eternal shore.

No more the storms that wrecked thy peace,

Shalt tear that gentle hreast; Nor Summer's rage, nor Winter's cold.

Thy poor, poor frame molest.

Thy peace is sealed, thy rest is sure,

My sorrows are to come; Awhile I weep and linger here,

Then follow to the tomh.

And is the awful veil withdrawn,
That shrouds from mortal eyes,

In deep impenetrahle gloom,
The secret of the skies?

O, in some dream of vision'd hliss,
Some tranee of rapture, show

Where, on the hosom of thy God,
Thou rest'st from human wo!

Thence may thy pure devotion's flame

On me, on me descend;
To me thy strong aspiring hopes,

Thy faith, thy fervours lend.

Let these my lonely path illume,
And teach my weakened mind

To welcome all that's left of good,
To all that's lost resigned.

Farewell! With honour, peace, and love

Be thy dear memory hlest! Thou hast no tears for me to shed,

When I too am at rest.



No airy dreams their simple fancies fired; No thirst for wealth, nor panting after fame; fJut truth divine, suhlimer hopes inspired, And urged them onward to a nohler aim.

From every cottage, with the day arose
The hallowed voice of spirit-hreathing prayer;
And artless anthems, at its peaceful close,
Like holy incense, charmed the evening air.

Though they, each tome of human lore un-
The hrilliant path of science never trod,
The sacred volume claimed their hearts alone,
Which taught the way to glory and to God.

tlere they from truth's eternal fountain drew The pure and gladdening waters day hy day; Learnt, since our days are evil, fleet, and few, fo walk in wisdom's hright and peaceful way.

In yon lone pile, o'er which hath sternly

pass'd The heavy hand of all-destroying Time, Through whose low mouldering aisles now

sighs the hlast, And round whose altars grass and ivy climh.

They gladly thronged, their grateful hymns

to raise, Oft as the calm and holy sahhath shone; The mingled trihute of their prayers and

praise, In sweet communion rose hefore the throne.

Here, from those honoured lips, which sacred

fire From heaven's high chancery hath touched,

they hear Truths which their zeal inflame, their hopes

inspire, Give wings to faith and check affliction's tear.

When life flowed hy, and like an angel,

Death Came to release them to the world on high,

Praise tremhled still on each expiringhreath,
And holy triumph heamed from every eye.

Then gentle hands their "dust to dusl"con-
With quiet tears, the simple rites are said;
And here they sleep, till at the trump divine,
The earth and ocean render up their dead.



Though short thy span, God's unimpeach'd

decrees, Which made that shorten'd span one long

disease; Yet, merciful in chastening, gave thee scope For mild redeeming virtues, faith and hope, Meek resignation, pious charity; And, since this world was not the world for

thee, Far from thy path removed, with partial

care, Strife, glory, gain, and Pleasure's flowery

snare, Bade earth's temptations pass thee harmless

And fix'd on Heaven thy uureverted eye! Oh! mark'd from hirth, and nurtur'd for

the skies! la youth, with more than learning's wisdom,

wise! As sainted martyrs, patient to endure! Simple, as unwean'd infancy, and pure! Pure from all stain (save that of human clay, Which Christ's atoning hlood bath wash'd

away 1) By mortal sufferings now no more oppress'd,

Mount, sinless spirit, to thy destin'd rest! While I—reversed our nature's kindlier

doom,— Pour forth a Father's sorrows on thy tomh?



Pnhafft White! while life was in its

spring, And thy yonng Muse just waved her joyous

The spoiler came; and all thy promise fair Has sought the grave, to sleep for ever there! Oh ! what a nohle heart was here undone, When Science' self destroyed her favourite

spn I Yes, she too much indulged thy fond pursuit, She sowed the seeds, hut death has reaped

the fruit. 'Twas thine own Genius gave the fatal hlow, And helped to plant the wound that laid thee


So the struck Eagle stretched upon the plain,

No more through rolling clouds to soar again,

Viewed his own feather on the fatal dart,

And winged the shaft that quivered in his

heart: Keen were his pangs, hut keener far to feel He nursed the pinion which impelled thi

steel, While the same plumage that had warmed

his nest, Drank the last life-drop of his hleeding hreaif.



A Shadow on my spirit fell,

When my hush'd footstep from thee pan*d; And sad to me thy mild farewell.

To me, who found it was thy last; And when I saw thee next, a veil Was drawn upon thy features pale.

They strewed thee, in thy narrow hed,
With roses from thy own loved howers:

In melting anguish memory fled
Back to thy valued rural hours;

And saw thee gentle gliding round.

Where all to thee was Eden ground.

The God, whose presence met thee there,

Was with thee in thy slow decays; He answered to thy dying prayer,

Whose life had heen a hymn of praise: Thy God was nigh—thy Shepherd God, With comfort of his staff and rod.

I lay thee where the loved are laid: Rest—till their change and thine ifcil come;

Still voices whisper through the shade; A light is glimmering round the tomh; The temple rends! the sleep is ended— The dead are gone! the pare ascended I



Whoe'er, like me, with tremhling anguish

hrings His dearest earthly treasure to these springs, Whoe'er, like me, to soothe distress and

pain, Shall court these salutary springs in vain: Condemn'd, like me, to hear the faint reply, To mark the fading cheek, the sinking eye, From the chill hrow to wipe the damps of

death, And watch in dumh despair ihc short'ning

hreath:— If chance should hring him to this humhle

line, Let the sad mourner know his pangs were

mine. Ordain'd to lose the partner of my hreast, Whose virtue warm'd me, and whose heauty

hless'd, Fram'd ev'ry tie that hinds the heart to

prove, Herdnty friendship, and her friendship love. But yet rememh'ring that the parting sigh Appoints the just to slumher, not to die, The starting tear I check'd,—I kiss'd the

rod,— And not to earth resign'd her, but to God!



Bold Infidelity, turn pale, and die! Beneath this stone four infants' ashes lie:

Say, are they lost or saved 1 If death's hy sin, they sinn'd hecause they're

here; If heaven's hy works, in heaven they can't

appear: Reason, ah! how depraved I Revere the Biele's sacred page: the knot's

untied: They died,—for Adam sinn'd ;—they live,—

for Jesus died.



Ere sin could hlight, or sorrow fade, Death came with friendly care;

The opening hud to heav'n convey'd, And hade it hlossom there.


So fades the lovely hlooming flower,
Frail smiling solace of an hour;
So soon our transient comforts fly,
And pleasure only hlooms to die.

c. weSleY.

Beneath, a sleeping infant lies,

To earth whose hody lent; More glorious shall hereafter rise,

Though not more innocent.

When the Archangel's trump shall hlow,

And souls to hodies join, What crowds will wish their lives helow,

Had heen as short as thine.



Blame not the monumental stone we raise, 'Tis to the Saviour's, not the creature's

praise: Sin was the whole that she could call her own, Her goodness all deriv'd from Him alone; To Sin her conflicts, pains, and griefs she

owed, Her conqn'ring faith and patience He he

stow'd: Reader! mayst thou ohtain like precious

faith, To smile in anguish, and rejoice in death!

A Soul prepar'd needs no delays,
The summons come, the saint oheys:
Swift was his flight, and short the road,
He clos'd his eyes and saw his God.
The flesh rests here till Jesus come:
To claim his treasure from the tomh.

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