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But other feelings wake at W******'s death.

Gone, in his prime-not two score years yet told —
The vigor of brave manhood in his limbs;
And youth's frank hopefulness upon his brow; -
As suddenly as if from this green bank,
Just where I sit and gaze upon the flowers
That lift their smiling beauty 'mong the grass,
And deck the verdant hills with countless hues,
Now, as I look, some hidden fount of fire
Should spout, like Etna's flaming torrent, forth,
And in an instant desolate the scene.

Gone, in his prime! In him how many homes Their light have lost! how many poor their stay! The young a counsellor - the old a staff

The flock of Christ a shepherd kind and true.
Yes, we have lost a friend; but heaven has gained
One more inhabitant; and Sabbath choirs to-day,
With loud rejoicing, shout him welcome home.

A WINTER SCENE.

AN EXTRACT FROM A FAMILIAR EPISTLE.

January 13, 1829.

O, WOULD you could see, since the last week's rain,
What splendor adorns our grove and plain!
For it froze as it fell, and the drizzling sleet
Cast thick o'er the earth an icy sheet;

The crusted trees in their glory appear,
Each like a crystal chandelier,

On whose brilliant jewels the sunbeams glance,

As their limbs in the light breeze twinkle and dance;
And every twig and spire of grass

Is a splendid prism of solid glass,
Sparkling and flashing in day's broad glare,
With all the hues of the rainbow there.
O, 'tis a gorgeous sight to behold

The fields all strewed with rubies and gold,
And emeralds, bright with their rich green rays,
And diamonds, that fiercely burn and blaze,
And sapphires and pearls profusely strown,

Till a more magnificent view is shown,

Than the garden of gems in the Eastern tale
Which Aladdin found in the secret vale.

THE WATERFALL AT CATSKILL.

WRITTEN IN THE ALBUM IN THE HOTEL,

July 2, 1826.

BOLD, bold, and beautiful, the headlong wave
Leaps from the dizzy height in floods of foam
Broken and glittering — flinging up its clouds
Of playful mist, that meet the wanton sun,
And take all hues, and deck the shattered stream
In floating rainbows, that, like fairy forms
Before the dreamer's eye, flit here and there,
Now bright, now faded. Thus it plunges on,
Roaring and restless, till the gulf profound
Spreads wide its peaceful bosom, and the vexed,
Impetuous torrent slumbers in the shade.
Such be my quiet, when life's troubled tide
Shall reach the vale serene of tranquil age!
So it has been for ages - so shall be
Years roll on years,

For ages yet to come.
And find that sound and motion still unchanged.
Things that have life decay; but thou, fair rill, —
So like a living thing, that yet art none,
Thou changest not. The forests round thee die;
The beasts that roam them perish in their shade;
The solid rock, thy bed, is worn away;

Empires are moved. And man, the prince of all, Lives but to die. And thou dost see this change Pass upon all, and in perpetual youth

Dost sing and frolic 'mid a world of graves.

HYMN TO THE GOD OF BATTLES.

FROM AN UNFINISHED POEM ON THE BATTLE OF
LEXINGTON.

GOD of our fathers! who didst bear
Their pilgrim footsteps o'er the wave,
O, listen to their offspring's prayer!
Rise, as for Israel, rise and save!

God of our children! spare for them
The heritage our fathers gained;

Let Freedom's glorious diadem

And Truth's pure light abide unstained.

Great God of battles! to the field

Lead forth our armed and conquering host; Be thou their strength, their guide, their shield, And drive th' invader from our coast.

Hear, Lord! Without thy aid we die:
Hear us! To thee our cause we trust:
O, hear! and, from thy throne on high,
Rescue the offspring of the just.

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