Wilt thou not like the other years That were before thee, disappear? "Tis fit that all should fade and die, Yea, Ruin's voice shall shake the spheres; The yellow leaf that sails on high Once here, but now remembered not. And let them pass, for what but dust When ruined worlds on worlds shall roll REMOVAL OF THE REMAINS OF COMMODORE PERRY TO HIS NATIVE LAND. WENT he not out in proud array, He went from fields of well-won fray He went as the devoted should, Even at a nation's call Why weep that for the brave and good Ended the watchful warrior's toil, Unto his native shore: He comes, but not with song and shout, How loftily ran his career, Let vanquished veterans tell; Of high and spotless fame. Hence! ye that weep o'er blighted bloom, Where hopes unbudded lie. O, for the glorious death of them O, for the name, the unwasting gem, 1826. TO ONE THAT MEDITATED SUICIDE. THOU, whom stern anguish wastes away, That angel-peace makes not her stay Too weak to bear the petty strife And snap the cords that link to earth, And, rash one! darest thou deface Whereon is left the matchless grace, The dignity of heaven? Exist not ties to bind thee still To those of thy own nature? Imperious duties to fulfil Unto thy great Creator? Bethink thee!-is there not a heart Whose pulse to thine is beating? And dost thou not possess a part 'Tis sad, in sorrow's bitter doom Who gav'st and who has taken, SIMEON'S PROPHECY. THE Temple of the Lord is still, The day-beam of Salvation shines. Is heard, in strains of prophecy: "Awake, Jerusalem-thy walls Rebuild, thy glory draweth nigh. "Now, Israel, shall thy tumults cease, Up, Judah and with songs adore; My waiting spirit! go in peace, Thou hast beheld—what need'st thou more?" 'Tis Inspiration's awful voice, The utterance of fleeing breath; The soul recalled to bid rejoice, When quivering at the gate of death. Yes, favoured one, 'tis thine to trace Thou holy Seer! what visions rise, And unborn years before thee roll. Where blessings crown the faithful dead? |