Can sad affliction's sting disarm,
And banish every care.

While folly's votary hates thy shrine,
And grandeur fears thy power-
Still be thy rich enjoyments mine,
To bless life's fleeting hour.

TO AN INTERESTING YOUNG LADY,

DEAF AND DUMB.

WEEP not maiden, that thou never
Canst thy ardent love express;
Weep not fate from thee doth sever
All that would affection bless.

Wouldst thou strive to lighten sorrow?
'Tis the sigh thy breast will free-
Wouldst thou soothing accents borrow?
All our tears we give to thee.

Though like some sweet opening flower
Which the blush of morn displayed,
Pressed by evening's rudest shower,
Each loved beauty seems to fade,

Yet the orb of glory risen

Bids the floweret droop no more: Thus the cheering dawn of heaven All thy graces shall restore.

ETERNITY.

THE shadowy reign of Time had passed away,
Systems had fled, and suns illumed no more.
The starry gems were lost in radiant day,

The last shrill trump had waked the distant shore;
Its clang had ceased, and silence was in heaven.
I saw the marshalled cordon of the sky,

In glittering ranks bestud the trackless plain;
The tomb's pale monarch bound in chains stood by,
The prince of darkness with his powers was nigh;
While ransomed myriads swelled the countless train.

I saw the scroll

Endless duration never can unfold!

I saw the scroll-The Life of DEITY was there.
Its awful signet shall remain untold;

No strains of heaven, no curse in hell, may dare
Eternity! thy dreadful years declare,

TO THE DOVE.

SWEET Warbler of the painted vest,
Thou art in fair luxuriance drest;
The fondest of the plumaged throng,
The lonely bird of plaintive song.

The condor vast, the wren minute,
The pheasant gay, the falcon brute,
Though bold or pleasing to the eye,
Can ne'er with thee, my favourite, vie.

Thou claim'st my sympathy and love; For still in some sequestered grove, Thou dost indulge thy artless moan, And lov'st to sing and sigh alone.

Thy tender strain of hapless wo
Oft bids the tear of sorrow flow;
Thy note exceeds the touch of art,
Thy melody attracts the heart.

Yet blithe and cheerful is thy mien, And halcyon mirth with thee is seen: Thou roam'st at large, disporting free, Fidelity a trait of thee.

WHEN Jim one day with brother Joe,
A simple, thoughtless clown,
With father's leave set out to go
And see the shows in town:

It chanced, while idly gaping round,
Each wonder to descry,

An orange, fair, and seeming sound,
Caught Joe's attentive eye.

Joe gazed not long, and straight had bought

With haste and chuckling pride;

But Jim, a youth of keener thought,

Said, "Look at t'other side!"

Joe viewed again without ado,
And questioned well his sight;
For underneath, half hid from view,
The fruit was rotten quite.

And since that well-remembered day,
Whatever doth betide,

Joe ne'er by wrong is led astray,
But looks at t'other side!"

When fools arrayed in fortune's smile,
Are puffed with haughty pride;
Joe envies first, then thinks awhile,
And "looks at t'other side!"

When scandal takes its busy round,
With huge and sweeping stride,
Joe heeds it not: with thought profound,
He looks at t'other side!'

When urged in DISSIPATION's maze,
Corroding griefs to hide,

Joe views the bowl with loathing gaze,
And "looks at t'other side!"

When sad distress and care are nigh,
And faithless friends deride;
With humble hope and tearful eye,
Joe "looks at t'other side!"

And when-life's raging tempest past—
No more he stems the tide;
With joy on yonder shores, at last,
He'll view the other side!"

THE BROOK KEDRON.

THE day hath fled, on Salem's tower The lovely moon-beam calmly shines; Hushed is the song in court and bower, And worshipless the holy shrines.

'Tis night. Jerusalem is still,

And lost in sleep are bond and free; Her streets, her vale, the holy hill Repose in sweet tranquillity.

Repose they all?-have none from sleep Aroused, to sigh o'er Zion's blight?— Retire not some, alone, to weepWake not a faithful few this night?

Yes! and along the beetling brow
Of his beloved Olivet,

The Man, afflicted, wanders now,
And there have his disciples met.

How sad the greeting! who may tell The tenderness which in that look Burst forth, when Jesus wept farewell

To those he loved by Kedron's brook!