When viands that have been received

As ministers of life and health,

Are now of nourishment bereaved

By treacherous stealth;

When brutes that once have loved him most

Distrust his anxious look and word,

And having waged defiance, boast

With one accord;

When fluttering insects madly pour

Their torture on his hapless head,

And then to loftier regions soar,

By fancy led;

When spectres foul dwell all around,
And flit before him one by one; -

When shadows grim pursue the ground

He walks upon;

When every passing sound alarms,

And universal dread prevails;—

When melody hath lost its charms,

And nought avails;

When simple causes thus conspire

To aggravate the power of sin,

The sufferer feels a constant fire

Of hell within!

SPRING FLOWERS.

"Ye field flowers! the garden's eclipse you, 'tis true."

How I love to repair to my Garden in Spring,

When the swallow is sporting about on the wing, And the lark is exulting on high;

While the thrush and the linnet unitedly share

In the music that floats on the redolent air,
And the cuckoo is heard in reply!

At the earliest dawn of the delicate shoot,
That betokens some hardy perennial root

I have cherished to brighten with health,

There awakens a thrill of the rapture I knew
In my boyhood, to witness the border that grew

Me a bountiful treasure of wealth.

And the passion yet pleasantly soothes me awhile,

To discover the violet wrapped in a smile

With the crocus that flourishes near,

And the playful anemone blushing to see
The adonis vernalis enamoured with glee,
At the happiest month of the year.

What a raiment of beauty does Nature provide, When she decks the auricula out in her pride,

And invites the contemplative mind

To the lovely narcissus in graceful attire,

That enkindled the fervid Parnassian fire

In the learned and truly refined!

The diversified sweets of the season afford

To the volatile bee a delectable hoard

Of the fruit she so artfully stores;

And the butterfly gaudily dances along

To the murmur that dwells on her vigilant song,

And anon in an ecstasy soars.

Oh! I love to repair to my Garden in Spring,

When the swallow is sporting about on the wing,

And the lark is exulting on high;

While the thrush and the linnet unitedly share

In the music that floats on the redolent air,
And the cuckoo is heard in reply.