Say, wast thou conscious of the tears I shed?
Hover'd thy spirit o'er thy sorrowing son,
Wretch even then, life's journey just begun ?
Perhaps thou gav'st me, though unfelt a kiss;
Perhaps a tear, if souls can weep in bliss:
Ah that maternal smile! it answers-
-Yes,
2. I heard the bell toll'd on thy burial day;
I saw the hearse that bore thee slow away;
And, turning from my nurs'ry window, drew
A long, long sigh, and wept a last adieu.
But was it such ?-It was-where thou art gone,
Adieus and farewells, are a sound unknown.
And if this meet thee on that peaceful shore,
The parting word shall pass my lips no more.
3. Thy maidens, griev'd themselves at my concern,
Oft gave me promise of thy quick return.
What ardently I wish'd, I long believ'd,
And, disappointed still, was still deceiv'd.
By expectation, every day beguil❜d,
Dupe of to-morrow, even when a child.
Thus many a sad to-morrow, came and went,
Till, all my stock of infant sorrow spent,
I learn'd, at last, submission to my lot;
But, though I less deplore thee, ne'er forgot.
4. My boast is not, that I deduce my birth
From loins enthron'd, and rulers of the earth;
But higher far my proud pretensions rise,-
The son of parents pass'd into the skies.
And now, farewell. Time unrevok'd has run
His wonted course, yet what I wish'd is done.
5. By contemplation's help, not sought in vain,
I seem t' have liv'd my childhood o'er again;
To have renew'd the joys that once were mine,
Without the sin of violating thine ;
And, while the wings of fancy still are free,
And I can view this mimic show of thee,
Time has but half succeeded in his theft;
Thyself remov'd, thy pow'r to soothe me, left.
Ode to Disappointment.-HENRY KIRK WHITE. 1. COME, Disappointment, come.
Come in thy meekest, saddest guise;
Thy chastening rod but terrifies
The restless and the bad.
But I recline
Beneath thy shrine,
And round my brow resign'd, thy peaceful cypress twine.
2. Though Fancy flies away
Before thy hollow tread,
Yet meditation, in her cell,
Hears with faint eye, the lingering knell,
That tells her hopes are dead;
And though the tear
By chance appear,
Yet she can smile and say, my all was not laid here.
3. Come, Disappointment, come.
Though from hope's summit hurl'd,
Still, rigid nurse, thou art forgiven,
For thou severe wert sent from heaven
To wean me from the world :
To turn my eye
From vanity,
And point to scenes of bliss that never, never die.
4. What is this passing scene?
A peevish April day!
A little sun, a little rain,
And then night sweeps along the plain,
And all things fade away.
Man (soon discuss'd)
Yields up his trust,
And all his hopes and fears lie with him in the dust.
5. Oh! what is Beauty's power?
It flourishes and dies;
Will the cold earth its silence break,
To tell how soft, how smooth a cheek
Beneath its surface lies?
Mute, mute is all
O'er Beauty's fall;
Her praise resounds no more when mantled in her pall.
6. The most beloved on earth
Not long survives to-day;
So music past is obsolete,
When in forsaken tomb, the form beloved is laid.
7. Then since this world is vain,
And volatile and fleet,
Why should I lay up earthly joys
Where rust corrupts, and moth destroys,
And cares and sorrows eat?
Why fly from ill
With anxious skill,
When soon this hand will freeze, this throbbing heart be still.
8. Come, Disappointment, come!
Thou art not stern to me:
Sad monitress! I own thy sway;
A votary sad in early day,
I bend my knee to thee.
From sun to sun
My race will run,
I only bow and say-my God, thy will be done.
LESSON CXI.
What is Time ?-MARSDEN.
1. I ASKED an aged man, a man of cares,
Wrinkled, and curved, and white with hoary hairs;
"Time is the warp of life," he said, "Oh, tell
The young, the fair, the gay, to weave it well!"?
2. I asked the ancient, venerable dead,
Sages who wrote, and warriors who bled;
From the cold grave a hollow murmur flowed,
"Time sowed the seed we reap in this abode !"
3. I asked a dying sinner, ere the tide,
Of life had left his veins: "Time !" he replied;
"I've lost it! Ah, the treasure!" and he died.
4. I asked the golden sun, and silver spheres,
Those bright chronometers of days and years:
They answered, "Time is but a meteor glare!"
And bade us for eternity prepare.
5. I asked the Seasons, in their annual round,
Which beautify, or desolate the ground;
And they replied, (no oracle more wise,)
""Tis Folly's blank, and Wisdom's highest prize!”
6. I asked a spirit lost; but oh, the shriek
That pierced my soul! I shudder while I speak!
It cried, "A particle! a speck! a mite
Of endless years, duration infinite!"-
7. Of things inanimate, my dial I
Consulted, and it made me this reply :--
"Time is the season fair of living well,
The path of glory, or the path of hell."
3. I asked my Bible; and methinks it said,
"Time is the present hour,—the past is fled;
Live! live to-day! to-morrow never yet
On any human being rose or set."
9. I asked old Father Time himself, at last,
But in a moment he flew swiftly past:
His chariot was a cloud, the viewless wind
His noiseless steeds, which left no trace behind.
10. I asked the mighty Angel,* who shall stand
One foot on sea, and one on solid land :
"I now declare, the mystery is o'er-
Time was," he cried, “but Time shall be no more !”
LESSON CXII.
Casabianca.-MRS. HEMANS.
Young Casabianca, a boy about thirteen years old, son to the admiral of the Orient, remained at his post (in the battle of the Nile,) after the ship had taken fire, and all the guns had been abandoned; and perished in the explosion of the vessel, when the flames had reached the powder.
1. THE boy stood on the burning deck,
Whence all but him had fled;
The flame that lit the battle's wreck,
Shone round him o'er the dead.
2. Yet beautiful and bright he stood,
As born to rule the storm;
A creature of heroic blood,
A proud, though child-like form.
• See Revelations, Chap. x.
3. The flames roll'd on-he would not go,
Without his father's word;
That father, faint in death below,
His voice no longer heard.
4. He call'd aloud—“ Say, father, say
If yet my task is done?"
He knew not that the chieftain lay
Unconscious of his son.
5. "Speak, Father!" once again he cried,
"If I may yet be
-And but the booming shots replied,
And fast the flames rolled on.
6. Upon his brow he felt their breath,
And in his waving hair,
And look'd from that lone post of death,
In still, yet brave despair.
7. And shouted but once more aloud,
"My Father! must I stay ?"
While o'er him fast, through sail and shroud,
The wreathing fires made way.
3. They wrapt the ship in splendor wild,
They caught the flag on high,
And streamed above the gallant child,
Like banners in the sky.
9. There came a burst of thunder sound—
The boy-oh! where was he?
-Ask of the winds that far around
With fragments strewed the sea!
10. With mast, and helm, and pennon fair,
That well had borne their part-
But the noblest thing that perished there,
Was that young faithful heart.
LESSON CXIII.
The Just Judge.
1. A GENTLEMAN, who possessed an estate, worth about five hundred a year, in the eastern part of England, had also two The eldest, being of a rambling disposition, went abroa
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