Wrapt in the future, present, past, Fade to the Christian's eye; Ages no length'ning shadows cast O'er the soul's divinity— Roll on, roll on. Enraptured with its heavenly view, Stream after stream of light Breaks through the world's dark avenue, Till faith is lost in sight Roll on, roll on. Yea! though a wreck upon the sands This body lie, I'll burst thy bands, Time! with thy yawning grave— Roll on, roll on. REV. W G. MOORE. TIME. HIS shadow on the dial's face With slow, unseen, unceasing pace, Since light and motion first began, Hath held its course sublime; What is it? mortal man! It is the scythe of time:- It levels all beneath the sky, And still, through each succeeding year, Right onward, with resistless power, Its stroke shall darken every hour, Till nature's race be run, And time's last shadow shall eclipse the sun. Nor only o'er the dial's face, This silent phantom, day by day, From proud Palmyra's mouldering walls, From Teneriffe, towering o'er the sea; And man at every footstep weeps O'er evanescent joys; Life's flowerets glittering with the dews of morn, Ah soon beneath the inevitable blow, I too shall lie, in dust and ashes low. O'er the wide earth's illumined space, Though time's triumphant flight be shown,— Points from the churchyard stone. MONTGOMERY. O more! NO MORE. A harp string's deep and breaking tone, A last, low, summer breeze, a far off swell, A dying echo of rich music gone, Breathe through those words—those murmurs of farewell To dwell in peace, with home affections bound, To know the sweetness of a mother's voice, No more! To feel the spirit of her love around, And in the blessing of her eye rejoice— No more! A dirge-like sound! To greet the early friend Or join the household laughter by the blaze- Through woods that shadowed our first years to rove With all our native music in the air; To watch the sunset with the eyes we love, And turn, and read our own heart's answer there- No more! Words of despair!—yet earth's, all earth's the woe Their passion breathes-the desolately deep That sound in heaven-oh! image then the flow Of gladness in its tones-to part, to weep— To watch, in dying hope, affection's wane, To wear impatiently a secret chain, No more! To waste the untold riches of the heart— No more! Through long, long years to seek, to strive, to yearn. To pour the soul out, winning no return, No more! On things that fail us, reed by reed, to lean, To mourn the changed, the far away, the dead; To send our troubled spirits, through the unseen, Intensely questioning for treasures fled No more! Words of triumphant music! Bear me on No more! MRS. HEMANS "NOT NOW." AINTER her slow step falls from day to dayDeath's hand is heavy on her darkening brow, Yet doth she fondly cling to earth, and say— I am content to die; but oh, not now! Not while the blossoms of the joyous spring Make the warm air such luxury to breatheNot while the birds such lays of gladness sing Not while bright flowers around my footsteps wreathe Spare me, great God! lift up my drooping brow, I am content to die; but oh, not now! The spring hath ripened into summer-time; The glorious sun hath reached his burning prime: With silent steps, the lord of light moves on; Greets my dull ear, with music in its tone. Summer is gone, and autumn's sober hues Tint the ripe fruits, and gild the waving corn; The huntsman swift the flying game pursues, Shouts the halloo, and winds his eager horn: Spare me awhile, to wander forth and gaze On the broad meadows and the quiet stream— To watch in silence, while the evening rays Slant through the fading trees with ruddy gleam. Cooler the breezes play around my brow: I am content to die; but oh, not now! The bleak winds whistle-snow-showers, far and near My little brothers round the warm hearth crowd: The spring is come again,-the joyful spring: The child of earth is numbered with the dead! "Thee never more the sunshine shall awake, Beaming all redly through the lattice pane; Death's silent shadow veils thy darkened brow; ANON. THE EVE OF THE DESTRUCTION OF UT dust upon your heads, lament and weep, Go to, ye wicked, weep and howl; for all |