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“ In the hours of my slumber proud visions come o'er me,
And life for a moment seems brightly to smile, The pathway of glory and fame is before me, The noble caress, and the lovely adore me,
And every sad thought from my bosom beguile.
“But, ah! from those dreams soon and sadly I waken,
To find all around me thrice gloomy and drear; To know that thou, too, from my arms hast been taken, Thou blest and revered one, whose friendship unshaken,
The darkest, the saddest, of moments would cheer.
« Oh death! thou stern soe to the lex sind blooming,
Thou te or to those who are bl_ .g and blest ! How freely this bosom would welcome thy coming, How gladly, thy garment of darkness assuming,
Sink down into slumber and peace on thy breast !"
'Tis sweet to think of days gone by,
When life and all its charms were new,
As morning's liquid gems of dew.
To think of joys that long have fled,
of youthful hopes indulged in vain, Of feelings waken’d from the dead,
And sorrows that have ceased to pain.
To let the thoughts excursive rove,
In many a wild prophetic dream,
And feel that we are dear to them
To think of friends we fondly loved,
Who calmly now in darkness sleep,
To think with soften'd breast and weep!
Oh! well such moments can repay,
For lingering hours of darker thought,
And feeling is with anguish fraught.
The following lines were suggested by reading a narrative of a Chinese youth, whose mother felt great alarm during the prevalence of a thunderstorm, and whose filial affection always prompted him to be present with his mother on such occasions, and even after her death to visit and remain at her grave, during their continuance.
I COME to thee, my mother! the black sky
Is swollen with its thunder, and the air
The lurid lightning streams a ruddy glare
Strides o'er the firmament ! yet I can dare
What uproar! raging winds, and smiting hail,
The lightning's blaze, and deafʼning thunder's crash,
Before the terrors of the forked flash,
To kneel beside thy grave; the rain-drops plash
Thou canst not hear me -the storm brings not now,
One terror to thy bosom-yet ’t is sweet
Was wont in by-gone days my step to greet,
When o'er the earth the summer tempest beat,
Was there a look of mine that did not meet
Oh! mother, mother, how could love like thine
Pass from the earth away! on other eyes, The glances of maternal love will shine,
And still on other hearts the blessing lies,
That made mine blissful; yet far less they prize
Around their spirits gather many ties
They sometimes strive to lead me to the halls,
Where wine and mirth the fleeting moments wing, But on my clouded spirit sadness falls,
More darkly then, than when the cave-glooms fling
Their shadows round me, and the night-winds sing Through the torn rocks their melancholy dirge,
Or when as now the echoing thunder rings O'er the wide heavens, and the mad gales urge Unto an answering cry, the overmastering surge.
The storms of nature pass, and soon no trace
Is left to mark their ravage—but long years Pass lingeringly onward, nor efface
The deep-cut channel of our burning tears,
Or aching scars, that wasting sorrow sears Upon the breast: lo! even now, a gleam
Of moonlight through the broken clouds appears,
I-fain would dream,
TO A CROCUS.
AN so ye’ve oped your leaves at last-
Puir bonnie thing,
This damp cauld spring.
Ye've lifted up your gou’den head,
A saft warm gleam,
Beneath its beam.
Sic' is the hapless doom of those
An' mony a tear,
In life's young year.
But o'er ye now the brightening sky
An' fan your bloom;
In murky gloom.
Yet e'en for them, a feeble light
Wi' hope's blest beam, Telling that soon across their sight
'T will broadly gleam.
TRUE FRIENDSHIP. They say this world is fraught with guile They say that lips may wear a smile, And yet the heart be cold the while,
As Zembla's sparkling icicle.
They say that those beloved for years,
With eye averted scornfully.
Believe it not-oh no! oh no!
And love ev’n more in misery !
There may be some, perchance, whose eye
To meet in sounds of revelry.
The test of dark adversity.
So wan, so sunken, and so pale,-
Pass'd over it-and told a tale of silent suffering and decay, That wore the springs of life away.