Then, springing at her Lord's behest,
A bride, in bridal garments drest,

The new earth spreads her stainless breast,
Nor knows alloy,

But yields the weary wanderer rest
In endless joy!

Hence, as we speed along, and mark
The sun gleam o'er the vapours dark,
And list the voice of rising lark,
And watch its form-

We haste-like frail and sea-worn bark,
That dreads the storm!

Behind-the travelled desert lies;
Before the gales of health arise;
The beams of morning gild our eyes,
As on we roam-

The toil, the dangers we despise,
In thoughts of home!

NARNI.

We entered the Cathedral, and found it ornamented with festoons of black drapery, in honour of the Bishop, just deceased. The temporary sarcophagus, covered with rich velvet, stood in the centre. His chair, according to custom, was reversed. On the gate was a printed notification of the decease, and an admonition to prayer, that a pious and vigilant pastor might be appointed to succeed.' M. S.

LIST to the sounds of widowed wail,
O'er wooded hill, and vine-clad dale!
From Cæsar's arches echoing far,
They mingle with the brawling Nar.
Go, where the temple rears on high
Its breast athwart the azure sky,

Nor ask what springs the sorrowing city's tear,

For lo! the throne reversed-and lo! the mitred bier.

Mourn ye your Shepherd? 'mid the gloom
What accents issue from the tomb?

Let not the dead bemoan the dead,

Up! for his days of toil are sped!

The voice of wail, the voice of care,

O change it for the voice of prayer!

There stands who opes and shuts His gates at willHe bids you press your suit, ere He his aim fulfil.'

The minutes haste, than gold more dear-
Come, take your stand beside the bier!
Ask of your King, nor bow the knee
To minions of idolatry.

All power he claims in earth and heav'n;

O press your suit from morn to even!

Ask of your gods, ye gain but Death's deep swoonAsk of the God of gods, and He will grant your boon.

Ye need a SHEPHERD-ruler, who shall own
Despite the world, no god but God alone!
One, who shall pour thro' vales the cooling rill,
And bid each thirsty soul his vessel fill;
Rebuke the virgin-mother, should she shade

The hallowed manger, where her babe is laid,
And bold, tho' frowns of men and devils lour,

Lift high the Son of God, and claim His Spirit's power!

Ye need a BAPTIST-who his staff shall rear,
Plead his Lord's cause, nor face of mortal fear;
Denounce the front of vice, 'mid royal scorn,
And meek endure the martyr's crown of thorn!
Ye need a PAUL-to scale the bounds of heav'n,
And freely give, what freely has been given :
A JAMES-to draw all judgments from above;
A JOHN-to tinge all acts with rosy hues of love.

Ye need a PETER-not to awe the land
By brow of lordly rule, and sceptered hand;
Forcing the prostrate world his will obey,
And at the sword-point heralding his way—
Oh! not to such did Christ his power entrust,
But to a Peter, humbled in the dust,

Exalted high, to point to Adam's race,

How deep the depths of sin-how strong a Saviour's grace.

Plead! 'tis a boon of thousands! Lo, He stands, With covenant-blessings countless as the sands ! Without the sun, where beams the light of day? Without the word, what points the heaven-ward way? O do ye still to idol-gods repair?

Is not the bliss of heaven worth a prayer?

Haste to His feet, who frees the fettered soul,

And bid these vine-spread hills the loud Hosannas roll!

THE FIRE-FLY.

WHAT Wouldst thou, twinkler of the night!
Thus skimming o'er my path?
Say, is the message of thy light
Of mercy or of wrath?

Alike to Him, who sits on high,
What brings His lov'd command;
A bright-winged seraph from the sky,
Or insect of the sand.

A moving speck of brilliant light,
I mark thy wanton way;
One little moment sunk in night,

Then bursting into day.

Now twinkling 'mid the covert-shade,

Like an imprisoned star;

Now shooting swift the upland glade,
Gay gleaming from afar.