His cheeks, where love with beauty glowed, A deadly pale o'ercast; So fades the fresh rose in its prime, Before the northern blast. The parents now, with late remorse, And wearied Heaven with fruitless prayers, ""Tis past," he cried, “but if your Sweet mercy yet can move, souls Let these dim eyes once more behold She came; his cold hand softly touched, But oh his sister's jealous care (A cruel sister she!) Forbade what Emma came to say, "My Edwin, live for me." Now homeward as she hopeless went, The churchyard path along, The blast blew cold, the dark owl screamed Her lover's funeral song. Amid the falling gloom of night, Her startling fancy found Alone, appalled, thus had she passed The visionary vale— When lo the deathbell smote her ear, Sad sounding in the gale! Just then she reached, with trembling steps, Her aged mother's door: "He's gone!" she cried, “and I shall see I feel, I feel this breaking heart Beat high against my side!" From her white arm down sunk her head, ON PROCRASTINATION. BY YOUNG. BE wise to-day; 'tis madness to defer: Of man's miraculous mistakes this bears All pay At least their own; their future selves applaud : And scarce in human wisdom to do more. All promise is poor dilatory man, And that through every stage. When young, indeed, As duteous sons, our fathers were more wise. Resolves, and re-resolves; then dies the same. And why? Because he thinks himself immortal. All men think all men mortal but themselves; Themselves, when some alarming shock of fate Strikes through their wounded hearts the sudden dread; But their hearts wounded, like the wounded air, Soon close; where passed the shaft no trace is found, As from the wing no scar the sky retains, The parted wave no furrow from the keel, So dies in human hearts the thought of death. Even with the tender tear which nature sheds O'er those we love, we drop it in their grave. THE CHAMELEON. BY MERRICK. OFT has it been my lot to mark Whatever word you chance to drop, Two travellers of such a cast, "Hold there !" the other quick replies, "'Tis green! 'tis green, sir, I assure ye." "Green!" cries the other, in a fury: Why, sir, d'ye think I've lost my eyes?" ""Twere no great loss," the friend replies; "For if they always serve you thus, You'll find them but of little use." So high at last the contest rose, To him the question they referred; 66 Sirs," cries the umpire, cease your pother— The creature's neither one nor t'other. I caught the animal last night, 66 "And I'll be sworn, that, when you've seen The reptile, you'll pronounce him green." "Well, then, at once to ease the doubt," Replies the man, "I'll turn him out: "And when before your eyes I've set him, you don't find him black, I'll eat him." If He said; then full before their sight Produced the beast, and lo!-'twas white. Both stared, the man looked wondrous wise 66 My children," the Chameleon cries, (Then first the creature found a tongue,) When next you talk of what you view, |