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New truths, new lights, new wonders grew and spread;
And from the very horrors of the field,

Which teemed with blood and crime, leaped forth to life
The science that adorns, the arts that bless.
Genius awoke in every land; a voice,

Loud as the cry which from the cloisters rang,
And armed all Europe for the sacred war,
Spoke to the earnest heart of generous youth,
And bade them join this new crusade for man.
We heard the voice -our bosoms gave response.
We spoke strong words of gratulation deep,
That we were born to witness and partake
The high excitement of the teeming age.
We longed to know the issue of events,
And what this toiling energy of mind,

With Heaven co-working, should bring forth to bless
The waiting earth. How glowed our prophet words!
How eagerly we sketched our plans! How pure,
How large, benevolent, and resolute,

The track of useful glory he portrayed!

And with enthusiast eye, and thrilling voice,
That trembled with the emotion of the soul,

He breathed his hopes aloud, and none could doubt,
Who heard him pour his burning spirit forth,
That he had will to make his visions truth,
And only death could rob him of the power.
I had not thought him mortal. For he seemed
So fitted for some chosen work on earth,
That, in my rash fatuity, I thought,

God cannot spare him from this suffering sphere;
Life shall be long to him, and crowned at length,
In the calm evening of a gray old age,

With heaven's bright chaplet of successful toil,

And earth's of reverend honor. So I dreamed;
And all my future projects, plans, and hopes
Twined with his presence.

Tell me, you that can,

The colored language that shall paint his soul.
Give me the words, that I may draw him true,
And lovely as he was to those he loved.
Gentleness sat upon his even brow,

And from his eye beamed meek benignity;
While its peculiar, almost tearful gaze,
Went to the soul of all it fell upon.

If we might think some spirit, purified
From evil stains, robed once again in flesh,
And sent on messages of love to men,

Such we might deem my friend; so pure; so calm;

So unregardful of the petty cares

And small impertinences that annoy

All other men; so thoughtless of himself;
So bent on others' good; so seemingly
Unconscious of the tempting things of earth,
And musing ever on some purer scenes.
How quietly, yet forcibly, he stood!
Humble, yet bold; not eloquent, indeed,

But something better; winning, clear, and sweet ;
Where his fond flock looked up to hear and learn.
No thunder from his voice, and from his eye
No lightning; but the gentle breath of spring
Recalling flowers to life, the summer shower
Softly refreshing the luxuriant herb,
The placid sun, whose penetrating beams,
Steadfast and gradual, lead the season on, -
The quiet dew, that nourishes unseen,
These are the holy images that tell

The style and efficacy of his work;

While from the sacred rostrum he came down
To cheer the humble, and reclaim the bad,
And as a friend, from house to house to spread
Improvement, consolation, joy, reproof,

And turn his parish walks to walks of heaven.
What was my joy to sit beneath his voice,
To witness the intense, devoted love

Which bound his people to him, hear their words,
And see their tears of gratitude and praise,
And watch the growth of goodness from his toil!
O Heaven! that I should see it all, and live
To see its end, its mournful end so soon!
A few short months in manhood's early prime,
He labored, faltered; and my broken heart
Felt that yon grave had buried in its womb
The strongest tie that bound me to the world.

-

So pass the friendships of this earth away;
So shades and sorrows fall upon the path
That beamed the brightest. But the shades of grief
Rest not forever on the darkened soul;

Time gently scatters them; and deathless hope
Throws back the curtain of the fearful tomb,

And shows its tenants robed in radiant day.
The heart no more is troubled; anchored fast
On this strong hope, it sits in peace,

Serenely waiting-wisdom harshly learned,
Perchance, but needful, known in words to all,
But husbanded and real to the few,
Who, willingly submissive, at the feet
Of stern affliction sit. And blessed are they
Who bear that sweet serenity of mind
Taught by the consciousness that every good

Of earth is fleeting, save the one high worth,
Which, being kindred to the worth of heaven,
Partakes its immortality, and glows

Brighter and better when all else decays.

These ne'er shall know with hopeless pang to mourn
A true friend's loss. Hope triumphs; dust and death
Sever them not; for earth, to them, and heaven
Are one; and in communion of the soul,

In all that truly makes th' immortal mind,
In thoughts, affections, wishes, they are joined
Inseparably; till hoary Time, at length,
The great restorer, lifts his awful veil,
And ushers them to glory, face to face.

A SISTER'S LOVE.

A SISTER'S love! I dwell upon the themeThe only love on earth to which the earth Has given no taint of self-regardful care. In even the mother's breast, a selfish fear Throbs with the pulse of pure maternal joy, And her own image mingles with the scene Which Hope makes radiant with her boy's renown. But in a sister's breast affection lives,

All pure, unselfish, looking but to him.

Angel for angel glows with such regard,

Thus whole, deep, self-forgetting. Bowers of heaven
Witness it in the cherubs' changeless loves;
Earth sees it in a sister's heart alone.
Devoted, passionless, unwearied-strong
To bear, exhaustless in its sympathy-

True in all change-unchilled by coldness. Scorn, Neglect, and rudeness such as man's poor pride Sometimes returns for all the gentle cares

And sacrifice of sisterly regard,

These never move her. Patient to the last,
She watches through an unrewarded life,
And smooths the pillow of ungrateful death.
But when the brother knows and owns her worth,
Tell me, what fellowship on earth like theirs?
See what a radiance glows upon their path!
Such as thy hand has drawn, illustrious bard,
In Jane de Montfort-image unapproached
Of noble tenderness
or such as stood

In tears and woe at Korner's early tomb;
Or sat, through days of waywardness and love,
By Elia's side, to cheer a languid hope,
And soothe th' unequal pilgrimage of pain.
And always thus - beneath a thousand roofs,
It toils, waits, watches, and imparts a hue
Of holiest heaven to low humanity.

THE OLD ELM.

GRACEFUL and vigorous to the last, thine arms Still stretching forth their broad, protecting shade, With wooing invitation, and thy leaves

Smiling and whispering peace, so dost thou wait With patient gentleness the slow decay

That bears thee to the dust. I bless thee, friend, Companion, teacher. Many are the joys

And much the wisdom I have drawn from thee

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