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As gilds the west Sol's fading light,
Strong shadows back on earth are cast: Hope turns to Heaven in ardour bright
Vesting in twilight shades the past : Eve welcomes, in its holy gloom,
The birth-night of another dawnHope's setting rays the grave illume,
From whence will break eternal morn: Shadowless day the waking soul will viewMan, perfect made, will shades no more pursue.
I loved thee long and dearly,
Hath come again; PER
My heart's dear pain,
The ruin lone and hoary, '
The ruin old
At even told
They are gathering proudly round me,
The spirits of the brave,
And many a storied wave.
The sons of every clime,
Around the brow of time.
No banner floats above them,
No warlike shout is there; They march, as march the stately stars,
Through pathless fields of air. What charm hath broke the sternness
Of your long and deep repose, Where the warrior's arm forgot at length
To grapple with his foes?
The war-cloud burst above ye,
Unheeded in its wrath;
Ye dreamed not of its path!
'Twill shake the earth and sea, And all the armies of the dead,
Shall bear that réveillé.
THE LOVER'S FAREWELL.
BY S. W. CONE. Farewell! Farewell! Such is the tone
That swells but once, and 's heard no more; When all ties break, 'tis sadly thrown
The last on life's receding shore,
Farewell! Farewell ! it hymns the dirge
That floats around affection's bier, When passion's impulse fails to urge,
And nought but memory 's left that's dear; While lowly lies the form of love, And cold indifference sneers above.
Farewell! Farewell! So angels sung,
When forth on winds of wrath they flew,
To paradise a last adieu ;
Farewell! Farewell! though sadly sweet
The word floats on the evening air, Its sorrow 'll fade when next we meet,
And double sweetness will be there! Till then, love's thoughts, like angels, guard, And from thee ev'ry sorrow ward!
THE WILD HONEYSUCKLE.
BY PHILIP FRENEAU.
Fair flower, that dost so comely grow,
Hid in this silent, dull retreat, Untouched, thy honeyed blossoms blow,
Unseen, thy little branches greet: No roving foot shall find thee here, No busy hand provoke a tear.
By Nature's self in white arrayed,
She bade thee shun the vulgar eye,
And sent soft waters murmuring by;
Smit with those charms, that must decay,
I grieve to see your future doom; They died-nor were those flowers less gay,
The flowers that did in Eden bloom ; Unpitying frosts, and autumn's power, Shall leave no vestige of this flower.
From morning suns and evening dews
At first thy little being came:
For when you die you are the same ;
But tears are purer tests of truth
Keep old affections bright,
And life 's-in waneing light.
FAREWELL, oh thou star of my being! whose smile
Was a beacon of hope to my wilderness earth; Whose voice, like an orphean lute, could beguile
The sorrow of life, till it melted to mirth. Thou art gone to a land where the eye knows no tear;
Where the brow never fades at the touch of decay; But the heart thou hast left, feels its loneliness here,
For the warmth of its summer hath faded away.
Like a sun-gilded lake, in whose waters are glassed
The forms of the roses that bloom on its shore, Thy soul-mirrored love; but death's gloomy wing passed,
And ruffled the wave till it mirrored no more. Thy flight was at twilight; the sun's golden glare
Had paled at the death of a beautiful day; But one beam, like an angel, seemed lingering there,
To light thy dear spirit in beauty away.