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120 THE ADOPTED CHILD.
Breaking the silence of the seas
Will no one tell me what she sings?
Whate'er the theme, the maiden sang
THE ADOPTED CHILD. — Mrs. Hemans.
« "why wouldst thou leave me, O gentle child?
"0, green is the turf where my brothers play,
And the rocks where the heathflower blooms they
"Content thee, boy! in my bower to dwell;
"My mother sings, at the twilight's fall,
"Thy mother is gone from her cares to rest,
"Is my mother gone from her home away ? — But I know that my brothers are there at play;I know they are gathering the foxglove's bell, Or the long fern leaves by the sparkling well, Or they launch their boats where the bright streams
flow, — Lady, kind lady! O, let me go!"
"Fair child! thy brothers are wanderers now, They sport no more on the mountain's brow;
122 PSALM CXLVIIL
They have left the fern by the spring's green side,
"Are tl.ey gone, all gone from the sunny hill?—
Versified By Sandys, Born In 1577.
You who dwell above the skies,
Free from human miseries;
You whom highest heaven embowers,
Praise the Lord with all your powers!
Angels, your clear voices raise!
Him you heavenly armies praise!
Sun, and moon with borrowed light,
All you sparkling eyes of night,
Waters hanging in the air,
Heaven of heavens, his praise declare I
His deserved praise record,
His, who made you by his word,—
Made you evermore to last,
Set your bounds not to be past.
Let the earth his praise resound!
Monstrous whales, and seas profound,
Vapors, lightning, hail and snow,
Storms, which, when he bids them,blow;
Flowery hills, and mountains high,
PEACE OP MIND. — From Old English Poetry.
My mind to me a kingdom is;
Such perfect joy therein I find As far exceeds all earthly bliss
That God or nature hath assigned; Though much I want that most would have, Yet still my mind forbids to crave.
Content I live, this is my stay;
I seek no more than may suffice;
Look what I lack my mind supplies.
124 PEACE OF MIND.
I see how plenty surfeits oft, And hasty climbers soonest fall;
I see that such as sit aloft
Mishap doth threaten most of all;
These get with toil, and keep with fear;
Such cares my mind could never bear.
No princely pomp, nor wealthy store,
No force to win a victory,
No shape to win a lover's eye;
Some have too much, yet still they crave;
I little have, yet seek no more;
And I am rich with little store;
I laugh not at another's loss,
No worldly wave my mind can toss;
I fear no foe, nor fawn no friend;
I loathe not life, nor dread mine end.
My wealth is health and perfect ease;
My conscience clear my chief defence;
Nor by desert to give offence;
I take no joy in earthly bliss;I weigh not Croesus' wealth a straw;