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TIME AND ETERNITY.
Time in advance, hehind him hides his
wings, And seems to creep, decrepit with his age; Behold him when pass'd hy; what then is
seen But his hroad pinions swifter than the wind? And all mankind, in contradiction strong, Rueful, aghast! cry out at his career.
WHAT IS TIME?
I Asb'd an aged man, a man of cares, Wrinkled, and curv'd, and white with hoary
hairs; "Time is the warp of life," he said, " O tell The young, the fair, the gay, to weave it
I ask'd the ancient venerahle dead,
flow'd, "Time sow'd the seeds we reap in this
I ask'd a dying siuner, ere the stroke
Of ruthless death life's "golden howl had
I ask'd him, What is time? "Time," he
replied, "I've lost it, Ah the treasure /" and he died I
I ask'd the golden sun and silver spheres, Those hright chronometers of days and years; They answer'd, "Time is hut a meteor'm
glare," And hade me for Eternity prepare.
I ask'd the seasons, in their aunual round
I ask'd a spirit lost, hut, O the shriek
Of things inanimate, my dial I
I ask'd my Bihle, and methinks it said,
I ask'd old father Time himself at last;
His chariot was a cloud, the viewless wind His noiseless steeds, that left no trace hehind.
X ask'd the mighty Angel, who shall stand
One foot on sea, and ooe on solid land;
** By heav'ns, great King, I swear the mystery's o'er I
Time was," he cried,—" hat Time shall he no more!"
IMPORTANCE OF TIME.
On all-important time from every age, Though much, and warm, the wise have
nrg'd, the man Is yet unhorn who duly weighs an hour. ** I've lost a day"—the prince who nohly
cried, Had heen an emperor without his crown; Of Rome ? say rather, lord of human race: He spoke, aa if deputed hy mankind. So should all speak: so reason, speaks in all: From the soft whispers of that God in man, Why fly to folly, why to frenzy fly, For rescue from the hlessing we possess! Time the supreme ;—Time is eternity; Pregnant with all eternity can give; Pregnant with all, that makes archangels
smile. Who murders Time, he crushes in the hirth A power ethereal, only not adored.
INFLUENCE OF TIME.
Time's glory is to calm contending Kings,
To unmask falsehood, and hring truth to light,
To stamp the seal of time on aged things
To wake the morn, and sentinel the night,
To wrong the wronger till he render right;
To ruinate proud huildings with his hours,
And smear withdust their glittering golden
To fill with worm-holes stately monuments To feed ohlivion with decay of things,
To hlot old hook9, and alter their contents, To pluck the quills from ancient ravem'
wings, To dry the old oak's sap, and cherish springs, To spoil antiquities of hammer' d steel, And turn the giddy round of fortune's wheel.
RUINS OF PALMYRA.
Sad city of the silent place!
The eternal ruins frowning stand.
How sweetly sad our pensive tears
O'er Beauty's dark and desert hed
The prince's court is the jackalPs lair,
Yet there, though now no mortal eye
Go read thy fate, thou thing of clay,
THE FATE OF EMPIRES.
The wolf is in thy kingly hall,
The lion in thy garden howls, And wilder, hloodier than they all,
The Arah rohher round thee prowls: High vengeance smote thee from thy throne; Thon'rt dust and ashes, Bahylon!
Where are thy pomps, Persepolis?
The traveller tremhles on his way, To hear thy serpents' sullen hiss,
Thou mighty daughter of decay! Thou thing of wonder and of scorn. Thy night has come without a morn.
Where are thy glories, Carthage? Dead I Death lords it o'er thy pallid shore:
What stirs thy sands? The rohher's tread! What stirs thy waves? The rohher's oar:
The arm that smote the crest of Rome,
Here wastes in the eternal tomhl
City of Constantino,—Earth's queen!
Where are thy hanner and thy how? Sits in thy gates the Saracen?
Oh fallen! the lowest of the low! Has not the earth one generous sword, To save thee from the Tartar horde?
My country! shalt thou have thy hour,
No I holiness shall he thy tower;
Thou friend and fortress of them all,
No, England! thou shalt never fall.
"While Day arises, that sweet hour of prime."
How many thousands are wakening now! Some to the songs from the forest-hough, To the rustling of leaves at the lattice pane. To the chiming fall of the early rain.
And some, far oat on the deep mid-sea, To the dash of the waves in their foaming
glee, As they hreak into spray on the ship's tall
side, That holds thro' the tumult her path of pride.
And some—oh! well may their hearts rejoice, To the gentle sound of a mother's voice; Long shall they yearn for that kindly too», When from the hoard and the hearth 'tis gone.
And some in the camp to the hogle's hreath. And the tramp of the steed on the echoic;
heath, And the sndden roar of the hostile gun, Which tells that a field must ere night he
And some in the gloomy convict-cell,
And aomc to the peal of the hunter'- horn,
So are we roused on this chequer'd earth,
But ONE must the sound he, and ONE the call,
Which from the dust shall awake us all! ONE, thos to sever'd and distant dooms— How shall the sleepers arise from their tomhs?
MORNING AND EVENING.
How heantiful is morn!
From the hright portals of the East is hreak-
To light and life from silent slumher waking.
The parting clouds unfold
Bright is the summit of the lofty mountain;
Are hright and tuneful as the Muses' fountain.
As upward mounts the sun,
The vallies, one hy one, Ope their recesses to the living splendor;
The mighty ocean's hreast
Heaves upward to he hlest, And hids its waves rettected light surrender.
Each humhle flower lifts up Its dewy hell or cup, Smiling through tears that know no tinge of sadness; The insect trihes come out, And, fluttering all ahout, Fill the fresh air with gentle sotmds of gladness.
Oh! who can wituess thix.
Nor feel the throh of hliss With which creation's every pulse seems heating?
Or who, 'mid such a store
Of rapture flowing o'er, The trihute of the heart forhear repeating?
Yet have I known an hour Of more suhduing power Than this of heanty glowing—music gushing;— An hour whose quiet calm, Diffus'd an holier halm, Whose watch-word, " Peace, he still !"the iumost heart was hushing.
It is the close of day,
When evening's hues array The western sky in all their radiant lustre;
When round the setting sun,
His goal of glory won, Resplendent clouds in silent heanty muster.
'Tis when day's parting light,
Dazzling no more the sight, Its chastened glory to the eye is granting,
That "thoughts too deep for teats,"
Unearthly hopes and fears, And voiceless feelings in the heart arc panting.
While thas the western sky
Ere yet these charms grow dim,
Grateful and lovely, is from earth ascending;
With solemn feelings of delight are hlending.
Then from those porta's hright, A farewell gleam of light Breaks with unearthly glory on the vision;
And through the folding doors,
These pass like thought away!
Thus should the sunset hour,
With senl-ahsorhing power, Nurse hy its glories the immortal spirit;
And plume its wings for flight
To realms of cloudless light, Regions its God hath form'd it to inherit.
Fair, hright, and sweet is Morn!
When daylight, newly horn,
Yet Eve to me is fraught
With more unearthly thought.
A Crimson glow adorns the western sky; The setting sun looks hroad at his decline The star of Evening twinkling, smiles on high, And sings, " The hand that made me is divine."
The silent moon hegins her journey hright;
Across the ether hlue, serenely glides; And smiling o'er the gloomy face of night,
Suhlime in placid majesty she rides.
Religion thus, across this world of care, Calmly majestic throws her peaceful heam,
Bids earth's dull scenes a heavenly aspect wear, And all creation with fresh heauty teem.
Night is the time for rest
How sweet, when lahours close,
To gather round an aching hreast
The curtain of repose,
Stretch the tired limhs, and lay the head
Down on our own delightful hed I
Night is the time for dreams;
The gay romance of life,
When truth that is, and truth that seems,
Mix in fantastic strife:
Ah! visions, less heguiling far
Than waking dreams hy day-light are!
Night is the time for toil;
To plough the classic field,
Intent to find the huried spoil
Its wealthy furrows yield;
Till all is ours that sages taught,
That poets sang, and heroes wrought.
Night is the time to weep;
To wet with unseen tears
Those graves of memory, where sleep
The joys of other years;
Hopes, that were angels at their hirth,
But died when young like things of earth.
Night is the time to watch;
Night is the time to think;
When, from the eye, the soul
Takes flight, and, on the utmost hrink
Of yonder starry pole
Discerns heyond the ahyss of night
The dawn of uncreated light.