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PART II

PIECES IN VERSE.

CHAPTER I.

SELECT PARAGRAPHS

Charity.

Soft peace she brings wherever she arrives,
She builds our quiet as she forms our lives;
Lays the rough path of peevish nature even.
And opens in each breast a little heaven.
Love of Praise.

The love of praise, howe'er conceal'd by art,
Reigns more or less, and glows in ev'ry heart:
The proud to gain it, toils on toils endure,
The modest shun it-but to make it sure.

Beauty of Expression.

Thy words had such a melting flow,
And spoke of truth so sweetly well,
They dropp'd like heaven's serenest snow,
And all was brightness where they fell.
Man and Woman.

Man is the rugged, lofty pine,

That frowns o'er many a wave beat shore;
Woman's the slender graceful vine,

Whose curling tendriis round it twine,

And deck its rough bark sweetly o'er.
Joy and Sorrow.

In the dreams of delight which with ardor we seck,
Oft the phantom of sorrow appears;

And the roses of pleasure, which bloom on your check,
Must be steep'd in the dew of your tears.

Pity.

Teach me to soothe the helpless orphan's grief.
With umely aid the widow's woes assuage;

To mis'ry's moving cries to yield relief,
And be the sure resource of drooping age.

Reward.

Think not the good,

The gentle deeds of mercy thou hast done,
Shall die forgotten all; the poor, the prisoner,
The fatherless, the friendless, and the widow,
Who daily own the bounty of thy hand,
Shall cry to heaven and pull a blessing on thee.
Hope.

Why do those cliffs of shadowy tint appear,
More sweet than all the landscapes shining near?
"Tis distance lends enchantment to the view,
And robes the mountain in its azure hue!
Thus with delight we linger to survey
The promis'd joys of life's unmeasur'd way;
Thus from afar, each dim discover'd scene,
More pleasing seems than all the past hath been
And every form that fancy can repair,
From dark oblivion, glows divinely there.

Night.

Night, sable goddess! from her ebon throne, In rayless majesty now stretches forth Her leaden scepter o'er a slumb'ring world: Silence, how dead! and darkness, how profound Nor eye nor list'ning car an object finds; Creation sleeps. 'Tis as the general pulse Of life stood still, and nature made a pause, An awful pause, prophetic of her end."

Sleep.

Tir'd Nature's sweet restorer, balmy Sleep!
He, like the world, his ready visits pays

Where Fortune smiles; the wretched he forsakes
Swift on his downy pinions, flies from grief.

Battle.

Now, shield with shield, with helmet helmet clos'd
To armor armor, lance to lance oppos'd;
Host against host the shadowy squadrons drew;
The sounding darts in iron tempest flew.
Victors and vanquish'd join promiscuous cries,
And shrilling shouts and dying groans arise:
With streaming biood the slipp'ry fields are dy'd,
And slaughter'd heroes swell the dreadful tide.

Courage.

He's truly valiant, that can wisely suffer

The worst that man can breathe; and make his wrong His outsides, to wear them like his raiment, carelessly, And ne'er prefer his injuries to his heart,

To bring it into danger.

Mercy.

Mercy to him that shows it, is the rule
And righteous limitation of its act;

By which heaven moves in pardoning guilty man.
And he that shows none, being ripe in years,
And conscious of the outrage he commits,
Shall seek it, and not find it in his turn.

Humanity.

I would not enter on my list of friends,
(Though grac'd with polish'd manners and fine sense,
Yet wanting sensibility,) the man

Who neediessly sets foot upon a worm.
An inadvertant step may crush the snail,
That crawls at evening in the public path;
3ut he that has humanity, forewarn'd
Will tread aside, and let the reptile live.
Opportunity.

There is a tide in the affairs of men,
Which, taken at the flood, leads on to fortune;
Omitted, all the voyage of their life

Is bound in shallows, and in miseries.
On such a full sea are we now afloat;
And we must take the current when it serves,
Or lose our ventures.

Confidence in Divine Protection.
Man may trouble and distress me,
"Twill but drive me to thy breast;
Life with trials hard may press me,
Heaven will bring me sweeter rest.
Oh! 'tis not in grief to harm me,
While thy love is left to me;

Oh! 'twere not in joy to charm me,
Were that joy unmix'd with Thee.
Retrospection.

As turns the pausing trav'ler back,
At close of evening, to survey

The windings of the weary track,
Through which the day's long journey lay,
And sees by that departing light

Which fled so fast on field and meadow,
How distant objects still are bright,

When nearer things are sunk in shadow,—
Ev'n so the mind's inquiring eye

Looks backward through the mist of years,
When in its vast variety,

The chequer'd map of life appears;
And ev'n when life's declining years
Have ceas'd to paint the path before him,
The sunshine of her youthful days

Still casts a cheerful influence o'er him.
Music.

Deep as the murmurs of the falling floods;
Sweet as the warbles of the vocal woods:
The list ning passions hear, and sink and rise,
As the rich harmony or swells or dies!
The pulse of avarice forgets to move;
A purer rapture fills the breast of love;
Devotion lifts to heav'n a holier eye,
And bleeding pity heaves a softer sigh.

The closing strain composed, and calm she play'd,
And sang no words to give its pathos aid;

But grief seem'd ling'ring in its lengthen'd swell, And like so many tears, the trickling touches fell.

Spring.

From the moist meadow to the wither'd hill,
Led by the breeze, the vivid verdure runs,
And swells and deepens to the cherish'd eye.
The hawthorn whitens; and the juicy groves
Put forth their buds, unfolding by degrees,
Till the whole leafy forest stands display'd
In full luxuriance, to the sighing gales.
Summer.

The bright-effulgent sun, Rising direct, swift chases from the sky

The short-liv'd twilight, and with ardent blaze
Looks gaily fierce through all the dazzling air:
He mounts his throne; but kind before him sends
Issuing from out the portals of the morn
The general breeze, to mitigate his fire,
And breathe refreshment on a fainting world.

Autumn.

Now the leaf

Incessant rustles from the mournful grove,
Oft startling such as, studious, walk below,
And slowly circles through the waving air,
Fled is the blasted verdure of the fields,
And, shrunk into their beds, the flowery race
Their sumy robes resign. E'en what remain'd
Of stronger fruits, falls from the naked tree;
And woods, fields, gardens, orchards, all around,
The desolated prospect thrills the soul.

Winter

The horizontal sun,

Broad o'er the south, hangs at his utmost noon,
And, ineffectual, strikes the gelid cliff:
His azure gloss the mountain still maintains,
Nor feels the feeble touch. Perhaps the vale
Relents a while to the reflected ray;

Or from the forest falls the cluster'd snow,
Myriads of gems, that in the waving gleam,
Gay twinkle as they scatter. Thick around
Thunders the sport of those, who, with the gun
And dog impatient, bounding at the shot,
Worse than the Season desolate the fields.

Reputation.

Good name in man and woman,

Is the immediate jewel of their souls:

Who steals my purse, steals trash; 'tis something, nothing;

"Twas mine, 'tis his, and has been slave to thousands; But he that filches from me my good name,

Robs me of that which not enriches him,

And makes me poor indeed.

'Tis slander;

Stander.

Whose edge is sharper than the sword; whose tongue
Outvenoms all the worms of Nile; whose breath
Rides on the posting winds, and doth belie

All corners of the world: kings, queens, and states,
Alaids, matrons-nay, the secrets of the grave
This viperous slander enters.

Evening Sounds.

Sweet was the sound, when oft, at evening's close,
Up yonder hill the village murmur rose

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