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he may be there are many such in tian, and its character given by the England for their education is Chris- church.

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When every vernal hope and joy decays,
When love is cold, and life is little worth,
Age yields to heaven the joyless lees of earth,
Offering their Lord the refuse of his days :
O wiser she, who, from the voice of praise,
Friendship, intelligence, and guiltless mirth,
Fled timely hither, and this rural hearth
Rear'd for an altar ; not with sterile blaze
Of virgin fire one mystick's cell to light,
Selfish devotion ; but its warmth to pour
Creative through the cold chaotic night
Of rustic ignorance ; thence, bold, to soar
Through hall and princely bower with radiant flight,
Till peer and peasant bless the name of MORE.

BARLEY Wood.

A voice in vision-haunted Gibeon came :
“ Because thou didst not earth's poor gauds admire,
Renown and power, but wisdom didst desire,
Gain the pure object of thy virtuous aim,
Withal thou hast not sought thee wealth and fame."
Like was thy blessing, More! who didst require
Wisdom from heaven, and from Renown retire ;
Wealth bless'd thy home, and honour grac'd thy name.
Happy thine age! gazing each tranquil day,
O'er hill, wood, ocean, and green valley, where
Rose, central, the heaven-pointing church-tower gray !
Such, too, the prospect of thy soul ; a fair
And shining scene life's vale before thee lay,
With one heaven-pointing hope all central there.

A CHRISTMAS HYMN.

How it howls! That was a very Hymn." 'Tis by the same gentleman avalanche. Worse weather than whose merry songs we chanted an Christmas week, though that was wild, hour ago. The most cheerful are of and the snow-winds preached charity ten the most religious—a wise mirth to all who had roofs overhead-to- observes due place and season-and wards the houseless and them who the eyes that smile brightest are often huddle round hearths where the fire is the most ready to be filled with tears. dying or dead. Those blankets must have been a Godsend indeed to not a few families, and your plan is preferable to a Fancy-Fair. Yet that is good too—nor do we find fault with Ir was the calm and silent night! them who dance for the Destitute. We Seven hundred years and fifty-three sanction amusements that give relief Had Rome been growing up to might, to misery—and the wealthy may waltz And now was Queen of land and unblamed for behoof of the poor. Two sea! minutes and 'twill be Sabbath morning. No sound was heard of clashing warsHow serene the face of that Time- Peace brooded o'er the hush'd doPiece! and how expressive! Your main : chair comes at one-the fire is low, Apollo, Pallas, Jove and Mars, but bright-read you now, beloved Heldundisturbed their ancient reign, friend, and there is true piety as well

In the solemn midnight as true poetry in this “ Christmas

Centuries ago!

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he may be there are many such in tian, and its character given by the England for their education is Chris- church.

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When every vernal hope and joy decays,
When love is cold, and life is little worth,
Age yields to heaven the joyless lees of earth,
Offering their Lord the refuse of his days:
O wiser she, who, from the voice of praise,
Friendship, intelligence, and guiltless mirth,
Fled timely hither, and this rural hearth
Rear'd for an altar ; not with sterile blaze
Of virgin fire one mystick's cell to light,
Selfish devotion ; but its warmth to pour
Creative through the cold chaotic night
Of rustic ignorance; thence, bold, to soar
Through hall and princely bower with radiant flight,
Till peer and peasant bless the name of More.

BARLEY WOOD.

A voice in vision-haunted Gibeon came :
• Because thou didst not earth's poor gauds admire,
Renown and power, but wisdom didst desire,
Gain the pure object of thy virtuous aim,
Withal thou hast not sought thee wealth and fame."
Like was thy blessing, More! who didst require
Wisdom from heaven, and from Renown retire ;
Wealth bless'd thy home, and honour grac'd thy name.
Happy thine age! gazing each tranquil day,
O'er hill, wood, ocean, and green valley, where
Rose, central, the heaven-pointing church-tower gray !
Such, too, the prospect of thy soul; a fair
And shining scene life's vale before thee lay,

With one heaven-pointing hope all central there. How it howls! That was a very Hymn.” 'Tis by the same gentleman avalanche. Worse weather than whose merry songs we chanted an Christmas week, though that was wild, hour ago. The most cheerful are of. and the snow-winds preached charity ten the most religious—a wise mirth to all who had roofs overhead-to- observes due place and season

on-and wards the houseless and them who the eyes that smile brightest are often huddle round hearths where the fire is the most ready to be filled with tears. dying or dead. Those blankets must have been a Godsend indeed to not a few families, and your plan is prefer

A CHRISTMAS HYMX. able to a Fancy-Fair. Yet that is good too-nor do we find fault with It was the calm and silent night! them who dance for the Destitute. We Seven hundred years and fifty-three sanction amusements that give relief Had Rome been growing up to might, to misery-and the wealthy may waltz And now was Queen of land and unblamed for behoof of the poor. Two minutes and 'twill be Sabbath morning. No sound was heard of clashing warsHow serene the face of that Time- Peace brooded o'er the hush'd doPiece! and how expressive! Your

main : chair comes at one the fire is low, Apollo, Pallas, Jove and Mars, but bright-read you now, beloved Held undisturbed their ancient reign, friend, and there is true piety as well

In the solemn midnight as true poctry in this Christmas

Centuries ago 1

sea!

Twas in the calm and silent night!- sunk deep into many a wondering and

The senator of haughty Rome, reverential young spirit, meditating Impatient urged his chariot's flight on tidings of great joy, From lordly revel, rolling home!

“ Where through the long-drawn aisle Triumphal arches gleaming swell

and fretted vault, His breast with thoughts of bound

The pealing anthem swells the note of less sway;

praise." What recked the Roman, what befel A paltry province far away, All true Hymns—for they are holy

In the solemn midnight may be read without abatement of
Centuries ago! emotion — the humble interchanging

with the high--the sweet with the Within that province far away,

solemn- 14s0 congenial are all religious Went plodding home a weary boor; moods--awoke by light from heaven. A streak of light before him lay,

“ No war or battle's sound Fall'n through a half-shut stable

Was heard the world around; door

The idle spear and shield were high up Across his path. He passed,—for

hung, nought

The hooked chariot stood, Told what was going on within ;

Unstained with hostile blood, How keen the stars, his only thought,

The trumpet spake not to the armed The air, how calm, and cold, and

throng,
thin,

And kings stood still with awful eye,
In the solemn midnight As if they surely knew their sovran Lord
Centuries ago!

was by,
Oh strange indifference! low and high But peaceful was the night,
Drowsed over common joys and Wherein the Prince of Light
cares;

His reign of peace upon the earth began : The earth was still—but knew not why The winds with wonder whist The world was listening-unawares !

Smoothly the waters kist, How calm a moment may precede

Whispering new joys to the mild ocean, One that shall thrill the world for

Who now hath quite forgot to rave, ever!

While birds of calm sat brooding on the

charmed wave." To that still moment none would heed, Man's doom was linked no more to Recite again the simple Hymn yet sever,

in your hand, and you will feel its In the solemn midnight beauty even the more after those magCenturies ago! nificent stanzas. Nor will the three

little compositions we shall now ourIt is the calm and solemn night! selves recite, fall unheeded on your

A thousand bells ring out, and throw ear yet sounding with those multiTheir joyous peals abroad, and smite tudinous harmonies, for they are sin. The darkness-charmed and holy cereas the dews on Hermon.

now ! The night that erst no name had worn, To it a happy name is given ;

SUMMER EVENING IN HERTS. For in that stable lay new-born, The peaceful Prince of Earth and (COMPOSED MANY SEASONS AGO.) Heaven, In the solemn midnight

How calm the valley's slumbering Centuries ago !

breast,

Faint murmuring to the breeze ! You are remembering Milton's Hymn How rich the sunbeams from the west, on the Morning of Christ's Nativity! That on the rustic gables rest, written in his Twenty-First year, and And glimmer through the trees ! probably, says Bishop Newton, “ as a College Exercise.

In Cowper's How cool the shadows that descend hands, the Task soon grew into a work Upon the village green, of love. But here the theme was all Where yonder elms their arms extend divine; and, if indeed a College Across the rush-girt pool, to lend Exercise it was, such music must have The nightingale a screen! VOL. XLI. NO, CCLVIII,

* 2 F

Lost are the sounds of summer care Hail mantling hour of calm decline, Upon the fragrant mead;

Thy presence I can prize ; Through sombre lanes and freshening Fair are the morning suns, but mine air

Be the last mellow gleams that shine The weary mowers homeward fare, Upon the summer skies ; And silent dews succeed.

Mine be the pensive mood that brings Hushed is the vagrant curlew's call Long trains of reverie, That echoed from the fallow,

The shades of bygone thoughts and The swift is roosting by the wall,

things, The cushat in the firs so tall,

And oft unseen the secret springs The cuckoo in the sallow;

Of tender memory : With noiseless wing and feeble note, Then as the fond emotion grows, The bat wheels through the gloom, And living sense is given, While nightly moths by thousands The strife of Love rekindling glows, float,

And tearful, trembling hopes repose From out the secret shades remote, With happy souls in Heaven. Their orgies to resume !

TO AN EVENING CLOU'D RAINING IN THE DISTANCE,

Fair cloud that floatest over yonder hill,
Thou shed'st no lightnings on thy peaceful way,
But from thy fleecy folds soft dews distil,
Cheering the languor of declining day.

Yet dost thou bear upon thy brow the beams
Of him whose radiance summon'd thee at noon,
From out the murmur of thy kindred streams
To scatter on the earth this evening boon;

Nor dost thou scorn to own him sinking now
Through the dim precincts of the darkling west,
But answerest his last look, as if to show
That all thy bounty was but his bequest.
Thou art an emblem of true charity,
In aspect bland, and liberal indeed,
Blessing and blessed, yet pointing modestly
To one

who gave her gifts and bade her speed !

A PICTURE (IN THE DARK MONASTIC AGES).

Nay, Shepherd! Turn I prythee turn away,
This is no place where nibbling flocks should come ;
Nay break not on this solitary gloom
With bark of watchful dogs and rustic lay!
Lo, the clouds gather, and with troublous fringe
Threaten the mountain tops, and now the wind
Bids yonder lank and shaggy forest cringe,
And in her tangled lair affrights the hind:
The convent bell is hushed upon the hill,
And in this hour of solitude and shade,
By the good brethren to the Lord is paid
The tribute of a pure devoted will ;
Now do the hands that once could wield the sword
And rein the charger in the wild crusade,
Clasp the dear symbol and the knotted chord,
And supplicate for guidance, light and aid,
That they their humbler duties may fulfil.

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