That to the fringed bank with myrtle crown'd ON THE LOSS OF PROFESSOR FISHER, OF YALE COLLEGE. THE breath of air that stirs the harp's soft string, So science whisper'd in thy charmed ear, Beam of thy morning promised a bright day. THE WORLD DANGEROUS. RAINBOW. 345 THE WORLD DANGEROUS TO VIRTUE. VIRTUE, forever frail and fair below, Her tender nature suffers in the crowd, Nor is it strange; light, motion, concourse, noise, In fume and dissipation, quits her charge, THE RAINBOW. SYMBOL of peace! lo, there the ethereal bow! The torrent gives to air, its hoarse and louder song. FORWARDNESS. NOTHING, perhaps, is more unbecoming to young persons than the assumption of consequence before men of age, wisdom, and experience. The advice, therefore, of Parmenio, the Grecian General, to his son, was worthy of him to give, and worthy of every man of sense to adopt; "My son," says he, "would you be great, you must be less." The modest deportment of really wise men, when contrasted to the assuming air of the young and ignorant, may be compared to the different appearances of wheat, which, while its ear is empty, holds up its head proudly, but as it is filled with grain, bends modestly down, and withdraws from observation. SONNET. As slow I climb the cliff's ascending side, Much musing on the track of terror past, When o'er the dark wave rode the howling blast, And yon forsaken tower that time has rent! Is touch'd, and the hush'd billows seem to sleep. Whilst sad airs stilly sigh along the deep, Like melodies that mourn upon the lyre, Waked by the breeze, and as they mourn expire. THE EVENING CLOUD. A CLOUD lay cradled near the setting sun, Right onwards to the golden gates of Heaven, SONNET. GIVE me a cottage on some Cambrian wild, May pity man's pursuits, and shun his ways. List to the mountain-torrent's distant noise, I shall not want the world's delusive joys! Shall think my lot complete, nor covet more; I'll raise my pillow on the desert shore, And lay me down to rest, where the wild wave CHANGES OF THE YEAR. A YEAR of changes has brought us to that epoch, which, as we mark it down in our tablets, emphatically reminds us, "What shadows we are, and what shadows we pursue." The " happy new year season, as it is of pleasure and felicitation, celebrated with festival and song, is yet a striking and solemn memento; and he must be dull, indeed, who can write, for the first time, the number that designates it without a passing touch at least, of serious emotion. It reminds him how far he is gone up, on the scale of the dread century's progress; what a floating atom he is upon the tide of passing ages; and how soon the frail records of time, which he strews like leaves upon the dark wave, will be swallowed up forever. It is a memento of change, of instability, of uncertainty; of weary labors, of unsatisfying pursuits, of social bereavements, of a world whose fashion passeth away. Let it be true that it is a memento of other things; our present design and mood lead us to say, that it is a memento of these. As we gather up the confused impressions of the past, as the great scene of worldly toil, and turmoil, and vicissitude passes in review before us; as we meditate upon the many things, the many events, which seem as if they revolved in eternal circles, tending to nothing and producing nothing, we are ready to exclaim with the ancient preacher, "all things are full of labor; man cannot utter it. The sun ariseth, and the sun goeth down, and hasteth to his place where he rose. The wind goeth toward the south, and turneth about unto the north; it whirleth about continually : |