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O! for that clime my pinions let me plume—
-This is the joy, young Isadore I helieve,
More than the minstrel in his verse can weave ;—
VISION OF INFANTS IN HEAVEN.
I Saw them in white raiment crown'd with
flowers, On the fair hanks of that resplendent river, Whose streams make glad the city of our
God— Waters of life as clear as crystal, welling Forth from the throne itself, and visiting Fields of a Paradise that ne'er was lost, Where yet the tree of life immortal grows, And hears its monthly fruits, twelve kinds
of fruit Each in its season, food of Saints and Angels, Whose leaves are for the healing of the
Beneath the shadow of its hlessed houghs I marked those rescued Infants, in their
schools By spirits of just men made perfect, taught The glorious lessons of Almighty Love, Which hrought them thither hy the readiest
path, From the world's wilderness of dire temptations, Securing thus their everlasting weal.
Yea in the rapture of that hour, tho* songs Of Cheruhim to golden lyres and trumpets, And the redeemed upon the sea of glass With voices like the sound of many waters,
Came in mine ear, whose secret cells were
opened To entertain celestial harmonies ;— The small sweet accents of those little children Pouring out all the gladness of their souls In love, joy,gratitude,and praise to Him;— Him who had lov'd and wash'd them in his
hlood, These were to me the most transporting
strains Amidst the hallelujahs of all Heaven.
Tho' lost awhile in that amazing chorus Around the throne—at happy intervals The shrill hosannas of the infant quire Singing in that Eternal Temple, hrought Teats to mine eye, which seraphs had heen
glad To weep, could they have felt the sympathy That melted all my soul, when I heheld How condescending Deity thus deigned Out of the mouths of hahes and sucklings
here To perfect his high praise. The harp of
Heaven Had iack'd its least, hut not its meanest string Had children not heen taught to play upon it, And sing from feelings all their own, what
men Nor angels can conceive of creatures, horn Under the curse, yet from the curse redeem'd, And placed at once heyond the power to fall. — Safety which men nor angels ever knew, Till ranks of these, and all of those had fallen.
BLISS OF HEAVEN INEFFABLE.
Go, wing thy flight from star to star,
The year has seen Its round of seasons, has fulfilled its course, Ahsolved its destined period, and is horne, Silent and swift, to that devouring gulf, Their womh and grave, where seasons, months, and years, Revolving periods of uncounted time, All merge, and are forgotten.—Thou alone, In thy deep hosom hurying all the past, Still art; and still from thine exhaustless store New periods spring, Eternity.—Thy name Or glad, or fearful, we pronounce, as thoughts Wandering in darkness shape thee. Thou strange heing, Which art and must he, yet which contradict'st All sense, all reasoning,—thou who never wast Less than thyself, and who still art thyself Entire, though the deep draught which Time has taken Equals thy present store.—No line can reach To thy unfalhomed depths. The reasoning sage Who can dissect a sunheam, count the stars, And measure worlds, is here a child, And, humhled, drops his calculating pen. On, and still onward flows the ceaseless tide, And wrecks of empires and of worlds are horne Like atoms on its hosom.—Still thou art And He who does inhahit thee.
THE IMPORTANCE OF TRIPLES.
Since trifles make the sum of human things, And half our misery from our foihles springs: Since life's hest joys consist in peace and
ease, And few can save, or serve, hut all can
please: Oh I let th' ungentle spiritlearn from hence, A small unkindness is a great offence: Large hounties to hestow, we wish in vain, But all may shun the guilt of giving pain. To hless mankind with tides of flowing
wealth, With power to grace them, or to crown with
health, Our little lot denies; hut Heav'n decrees, To all the gift, of minist'ring to ease: The gentle offices of patient love, Beyond all flatt'ry, and all praise ahove; The mild forbearance of another's fault; The taunting word suppress'd as soon as
thought; On these Heaven hade the sweets of life
depend; And crush'd ill-fortune when she gave a
friend. A solitary hlessing few can fmd; Our joys with those we love are intertwined; And he whose wakeful tenderness removes Th" ohstructing thorn which wounds the
hreast he loves,
Soothes not another's rugged path alone,
with hate, Make up in numher what they want in
weight: These, and a thousand griefs minute as these, Corrode our comforts, and destroy our peace.
POWER AND GENTLENESS;
CATARACT AND THE STREAMLET.
Noele the mountain-stream, Bursting in grandenr from its vantageground; Clory is in its gleam Of hrightness;—thunder in its deafening sound!
Mark, how its foamy spray, Ting'd hy the sun-heams with reflected dyes,
Mimics the how of day Arching in majesty the vaulted skies ;—
Thence, in a summer-shower, Steeping the rocks around;—Oh tell me where
Could majesty and power Be cluth'd in forms more heautifully fair?
Yet lovelier, in my view,
Traced hy the hrighter hue,
It flows through flowery meads, Gladdening the herds which on its margin hrowse; Its quiet heauty feeds The alders that o'ershade it with their houghs.
Gently it murmurs hy The Village Church-yard;—its low, plaintive tone,
A dirge-like melody For worth, and heauty modest as its own.
More gaily now it sweeps By the small School-house, in the sunshine, hright:
And o'er the pehhles leaps, Like happy hearts hy holiday made light.
May not its course express, In characters which they who run may read,
The charm of gentleness, Were hut its still small voice Jallow'd to plead 1
What are the trophies gain'd By power alone, with all its noise and strife,
To that meek wreath unstain'd,
Niagara's streams might fail,
But Egypt would turn pale, Were her still Nile's o'erflowing hounty curh'd I
THE PHILOSOPHER'S SCALES.
MISS J. TAYLOR.
In days of yore, as Gothic fahle tells, When learning dimly gleam'd from grated
cells, When wild Astrology's distorted eye Mhuiiiw the fair field of true philosophy,
And wand'ring thro* the depths of mental
night, Sought dark predictions 'mid the worlds of
light :— When curious Alchymy, with puzzled hrow, Attempted things that Science laughs at now, Losing the useful purpose she consults, In vain chimeras and unknown results;— In those grey times there lived a reverend
sage, Whose wisdom shed its lnstre on the age. A monk he was, immured in cloister'd walls, Where now the ivy'd ruin crumhling falls. 'Twas a profound seclusion that he chose; The noisy world disturh'd not that repose: The flow of murmuring waters, day hy day, And whistling winds, that forced their laniy
way Thro' reverend trees, of ages' growth, that
made, Around the holy pite a deep monastic shade; The chanted psalm, or solitary prayer,— Such were the sounds that hroke the silence
# * # • • •
'Twas here when his rites sacerdotal were
o'er, In the depth of his cell with its stone-covered
floor, Resigning to thought his chimerical hrain, He formed the contrivance we now shall
explain: But whether hy magic or alchymy's power* We know not, indeed 'tis no husiness of ours: Perhaps it was only hy patience and care, At last that he hrought his invention to hear. In youth 'twas projected; hut years stole
away, And ere 'twas complete he was wrinkled
and grey; But success is secure unless energy fails; And at length he produced The Philosophtr't
What were they?—you ask: you sfciB
presently see; These scales were not made to weigh sopt
and tea; O no;—for such properties wondrous had
they, That qualities, feelings, and thoughts they
Together with articles small or immense, -Yom mountains or planet.*, to atoms of sense: Nought was there so hulky ,hut there it could
lay; And nought so ethereal hut there it would
stay; \nd nought so reluctant hut in it must go; Ml which some examples more clearly will
The first thing he tried was the head of
Voltaire, Which retain'd all the wit that had ever
heen there; As a weight, he threw in a torn scrap of a
leaf, Containing the prayer of the penitent thief; When the skull rose aloft with so sudden a
spell, As to hound like a hall, on the roof of the cell.
Next time he put in Alexander the Great, With a garment that Dorcas had made—
for a weight; And tho' clad in armour from sandals to
crown, The hero rose up, and the garment went
A long row of alms houses, amply endow'd By a well-esteem'd pharisee, husy and proud, Now loaded one scale, while the other was
prest By those mites the poor widow dropp'd into
the chest;— Up flew the endowment, not weighing an
onnee, And down, down, the farthing's worth came
with a honnce.
Again, he performed an experiment rare: A monk, with austerities hleeding and hare, Climhed into his scale; in the other was laid The heart of our Howard, now partly decayed; When he found, with surprise that the
whole of his hrother Weigh'd less, hy some pounds, than this hit of the other.
By further experiments, (no matter how) He found that ten chariots weigh'd less than one plough.
A sword, with gilt trappings, rose up in the
scale, Though halanced hy only a ten-penny nail. A shield and a helmet, a huckler and spear Weighed less than a widow's uncrystallized
tear. A lord and a lady went up at full sail, When a hee chanced to light on the opposite scale. Ten doctors, ten lawyers, two courtiers, one
earl, Ten counsellors' wigs, full of powder and
curl, All heaped in one halance, and swinging
from thence, Weigh'd less than some atoms of candour
and sense ;— A first-water diamond, with hrilliants hegirt, Than one good potato just washed from the
dirt; Vet, not mountains of silver and gold would
suffice, One pearl to outweigh,—'twas the " pearl
of great price."
At last the whole world was howl'd in at
the grate; With the soul of a heggar to serve for a
weight; When the former sprang up with so strong
a rehuff', That it made a vast rent and escaped at the
roof; Whence, halanced in air, it ascended on
high, And sail'd up aloft—a halloon in the sky: While the scale with the soul in, so mightily
fell, That it jerk'd the philosopher out of his cell.
Dear reader, if e'er self-deception prevails, We pray you to try The Philosopher's scales: But if they are lost in the ruins around, Perhaps a good suhstitute thus may he
found :— Let judgment and conscience in circles he
cat, To which strings of thought may he carefully put: