'Tis thus in friendship; who depend On many, rarely find a friend.

A hare, who in a civil way, Complied with every thing like Gay, Was known by all the bestial train, Who haunt the woods, or graze the plain. Her care was never to offend; And ev'ry creature was her friend.

2. As forth she went at early dawn, To taste the dew-besprinkled lawn, Behind she hears the hunter's cries, And from deep-mouthed thunder flies. She starts, she stops, she pants for breath; She hears the near advance of death; She doubles to mislead the hound, And measures back her mazy round, Till, fainting in the public way, Half-dead with fear she gasping lay:

3. What transport in her bosom ğrew, When first the horse appear'd in view! “Let me,” says she, “your back ascend, And owe my safety to a friend. You know my feet betray my flight; To friendship ev'ry burthen's light."

The horse replied,-"Poor honest puss !
It grieves my heart to see thee thus:
Be comforted, relief is near; o
For all your friends are in the rear."

4. She next the stately bull implor'd;
And thus replied the mighty lord ;-
“Since ev'ry beast alive can tell
That I sincerely wish you well,
I may, without offense, pretend
To take the freedom of a friend.
To leave you thus might seem unkind;
But see, the goat is just behind."

5. The goat remark'd her pulse was high, Her languid head, her heavy eye, “My back," says he, “may do you harm; The sheep's at hand, and wool is warm."

The sheep was feeble, and complain'd
His sides a load of wool sustain'd;
Said he was slow, confess'd his fears;
For hounds eat shieep as well as hares.

6. She now the trotting calf address'd, To save from death a friend distress'd.

"Shall I,” says he, "of tender age, In this important care engage? Older and abler pass'd you by: How strong are those! how weak am I!, Should I presume to bear you hence, Those friends of mine might take offense. Excuse me then: you know my heart, But dearest friends, alas! must part. How shall we all lament !-Adieu ! For, see, the hounds are just in view."

SECTION II.

The African Chief.
1. CHAINED in the market place he stood,

A man of giant frame,
Amid the gathering multitude

That shrunk to hear his name.
All stern of look and strong of limb,

His dark eye on the ground;
And silently they gazed on him

As on a lion bound. 2. Vainly, but well, that chief had fought.

He was a captive now:
Yet pride, that fortune humbles not,

Was written on his brow,
The scars his dark broad bosom wore,

Showed warrior true and brave: · A prince among his tribe before,

He could not be a slave.
3. Then to his conqueror he spake-

“My brother is a king;
Undo this necklace from my neck,

And take this bracelet ring;
And send me where my brother reigns,

And I will fill thy hands
With store of ivory from the plains,

And gold dust from the sands." 4. “ Not for thy ivory nor thy gold

Will I unbind thy chains;
That bloody hand shall never hold

The battle spear again.
A price thy nation never gave,

Shall yet be paid for thee;
For thou shalt be the Christian's slave,

In lands beyond the sea.”

5. Then spoke the warrior chief, and bade

To shred his locks away;
And, one by one, each heavy braid

Before the victor lay.
Thick were the plaited locks and long,

And destly hidden there,
Shone many a wedge of gold among

The dark and crisped hair.
6. “Look ! feast thy greedy eyes with gold,

· Long kept for sorest need :
Take it, thou askest sums untold,

And say that I am freed.
Take it-my wife, the long, long day,

‘Weeps by the cocoa-tree;
And my young children leave their play,

And ask in vain for me.”
7. “I take thy gold; but I have made

Thy fetters fast and strong ;
And ween that by the cocoa shade

Thy wife shall wait thee long."
Strong was the agony that shook

The captive's frame to hear;
And the proud meaning of his look

Was changed to mortal fear.
8. His heart was broken-crazed his brain;

At once his eye grew wild :
He struggled fiercely with his chain,

Whispered, and wept, and smiled!
Yet wore not long those fatal bands;

And once at shut of day,
They drew him forth upon the sand,
The foul hyena's prey.

Bryant.

SECTION III.

The Sacrifice of Abraham. 1. Morn breaketh in the east. The purple clouds Are putting on their gold and violet, To look the meeter for the sun's bright coming. Sleep is upon the waters and the wind; And nature from the wary forest-leaf To her majestic master, sleeps. As yet There is no inist upon the deep blue sky, And the clear dew is, on the blushing blossoms Of crimson roses in a holy rest.'

2. How hallowed is the hour of morning! meet,
Aye-beautifully meet for the pure prayer.
The patriarch standeth at his tented door,
With his white locks uncover'd. 'Tis his wont
To gaze upon the gorgeous orient;
And at that hour the awful majesty
Of man who talketh often with his God,
Is wont to come again and clothe his brow,
As at his fourscore strength.

3. But now, he seemeth
To be forgetful of his vigorous frame,
And boweth to his staff as at the hour
Of noontide sultriness. And that bright sun-
He looketh at his pencil'd messengers,
Coming in golden raiment, as if all
Were but a graven scroll of fearfulness.
Ah, he is waiting till it herald in
The hour to sacrifice his much lov'd son !

4. Light poureth on the world. And Sarah stands,
Watching the steps of Abraham and her child,
Along the dewy sides of the far hiils,
And praying that her sunny boy faint not-
Would she have watched their paths so silently,
If she had known that he was going up,
Ev’n in his fair hair'd beauty, to be slain,
As a white lamb for sacrifice ?
5.

They troa Together onward, patriarch and childThe bright sun throwing back the old man's shade In strait and fair proportion, as of one Whose years were freshly number'd. He stood up, Even in his vigorous strength, and like a tree Rooted in Lebanon, his frame bent not; His thin, white hairs had yielded to the wind, And left his brow uncoverd; and his face, Impress'd with the stern majesty of grief, Nerved to a solemn duty, now stood forth Like a rent rock, submissive, yet sublime.

6. But the young boy-he of the laughing eye And ruby lip, the pride of life was on him. He seemed to drink the morning. The sun and dew, And the aroma of the spicy trees, And all that giveth the delicious cast Its fitness for an Eden, stole like light Into his spirit, ravishing his thoughts With love and beauty. Every thing he met,

Buoyant or beautiful, the lightest wing
Of bird or insect, or the palest dye
Of the fresh flowers, won him from his path,
And joyously broke forth his tiny shout,
As he flung back his silken hair, and sprung
Away to some green spot, or clust'ring vine,
To pluck his infant trophies.

Every tree
And fragrant shrub was a new hiding-place;
And he would crouch till the old man came by,
Then bound before him with his childish laugh,
Stealing a look behind him playfully,
To see if he had made his father smile.

8. The sun rode on in heaven. The dew stole up
From the fresh daughters of the earth, and heat
Came like a sleep upon the delicate leaves,
And bent them with blossoms to their dreams.
Still trod the patriarch on with that same step,
Firm and unfaltering, turning not aside
To seek the olive shades, or lave their lips
In the sweet waters at the Syrian wells,
Whose gush hath so much music.

Weariness
Stole on the gentle boy, and he forgot
To toss the sunny hair from off his brow,
And spring for the fresh flowers on light wings,
As in the early morning; but he kept
Close by his father's side, and bent his head
Upon his bosom like a drooping bud,
Listing it not, save now and then to steal
A look up to that face, whose sternness awed
His childishness to silence.

It was noon-
And Abraham on Moriah bow'd himself,
And buried up his face, and pray'd for strength.
He could not look upon his son and pray;
But with his hand upon the clustering curls
Of the fair, kneeling boy, he pray'd that God
Would nerve him for that hour. Oh man was made
For the stern conflict. In a mother's love
There is more tenderness; the thousand cords
Woven with every fiber of her heart,
Complain, like delicate harp-strings, at a breath;
But love in man is one deep principle,

10.