Ferusalem.

And false the light on glory's plume,
As fading hues of even ;

And love, and hope, and beauty's bloom,
Are blossoms gather'd for the tomb-
There's nothing bright but Heaven!

Poor wanderers of a stormy day,

From wave to wave we're driven; And fancy's flash, and reason's ray, Serve but to light the troubled way,— There's nothing calm but Heaven!

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JERUSALEM.

Fall'n is thy throne, O Israel!
Silence is o'er thy plains;
Thy dwellings all lie desolate,

Thy children weep in chains.
Where are the dews that fed thee
On Etham's barren shore?

That fire from heaven which led thee,
Now lights thy path no more.

Lord! thou didst love Jerusalem-
Once she was all thine own :

Her love thy fairest heritage,

Her power thy glory's throne.

Till evil came, and blighted

Thy long-loved olive tree; And Salem's shrines were lighted For other gods than thee.

Then sank the staf of Solyma,
Then pass'd her glory's day,
Like heath that, in the wilderness,
The wild wind whirls away.
Silent and waste her bowers,

Where once the mighty trod,
And sunk those guilty towers,
Where Baal reign'd as God.

"Go," said the Lord, "Ye Conquerors! Steep in her blood your swords,

And raze to earth her battlements,
For they are not the Lord's.
Till Zion's mournful daughter
O'er kindred bones shall tread,
And Hinnom's vale of slaughter
Shall hide but half her dead."

But soon shall other pictured scenes
In brighter vision rise,

When Zion's sun shall sevenfold shine

On all her mourners' eyes:

The Almighty Comforter.

And on her mountains beauteous stand
The messengers of peace;

"Salvation by the Lord's right hand,"
They shout and never cease.

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THE ALMIGHTY COMFORTER.

O, Thou! who driest the mourner's tear,
How dark this world would be,

If, when deceived and wounded here,
We could not fly to Thee!

The friends, who in our sunshine live,
When winter comes, are flown;

And he who has but tears to give,
Must weep those tears alone.

But thou wilt heal that broken heart,
Which, like the plants that throw
Their fragrance from the wounded part,
Breathes sweetness out of woe.

When joy no longer soothes or cheers,
And even the hope that threw

A moment's sparkle o'er our tears,
Is dimm'd and vanish'd too!

F

Oh! who would bear life's stormy doom,
Did not thy Wing of Love

Come, brightly wafting through the gloom,
Our Peace branch from above?

Then sorrow, touch'd by Thee, grows bright
With more than rapture's ray;

As darkness shews us worlds of light
We never saw by day.

Robert Southey.

YOUTH AND AGE.

WITH cheerful step the traveller
Pursues his early way,

When first the dimly-dawning east

Reveals the rising day.

He bounds along his craggy road,

He hastens up the height,
And all he sees and all he hears

Administer delight.

Youth and Age.

And if the mist, retiring slow,
Roll round its wavy white,
He thinks the morning vapours hide,
Some beauty from his sight.

But when behind the western clouds

Departs the fading day, How wearily the traveller

Pursues his evening way!

Sorely along the craggy road

His painful footsteps creep,

And slow, with many a feeble
He labours up the steep.

pause,

And if the mists of night close round,
They fill his soul with fear ;
He dreads some unseen precipice,
Some hidden danger near.

So cheerfully does youth begin
Life's pleasant morning stage;
Alas! the evening traveller feels
The fears of wary age!

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