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The still sweet fall of music far away;
And oft he lingers from his home a while,
To watch the dying notes, and start, and smile!
4. Let winter come! let polar spirits sweep
.5. How blest he names, in love's familiar tone,
6. Trim the gay taper in his rustic dome,
, Tirpt. — Young*
1. Ah! how unjust to Nature and himselt
♦ Born 1679 ; died 1766.
Torture invention, all expedients tire,
To lash the lingering moments into speed,
And whirl us (happy riddance !) from ourselves.
2. Time, in advance, behind him hides his wings, And seems to creep, decrepit with his age.
Behold him when passed by; what then is seen
3. We waste, not use, our time; we breathe, not live; Time wasted is existence; used, is life:
And bare existence man, to live ordained,
4. And why? since time was given for use, not waste, Enjoined to fly, with tempest, tide, and stars,
To keep his speed, nor ever wait for man.
5. We push time from us, and we wish him back; Life we think long and short; death seek and shun. O, the dark days of vanity! while
Here, how tasteless! and how terrible when gone!
6. Gone? they ne'er go; when past, they haunt us still The spirit walks of every day deceased,
And smiles an angel, or a fury frowns.
7. If time past,
And time possessed, both pain us, what can please?
That which the Deity to please prdained,
Time used. The man who consecrates his hours
By vigorous effort and an honest aim,
At once he draws the sting of life and death:
He walks with nature, and her paths are peace.
8. 'T is greatly wise to talk with our past hours, And ask them what report they bore to heaven, , And how they might have borne more welcome news. Their answers form what men experience call;
If wisdom's friend her best, if not, worst foe.
9. All-sensual man, because untouched, unseen, He looks on time as nothing. Nothing else
Is truly man's; 't is fortune's. Time's a god.
For, or against, what wonders can he do!
10. But why on time so lavish is my song?
11 Throw years away f
1. O Majestic Night!
Nature's great ancestor! Day's elder born!
And fated to survive the transient sun!
By mortals and immortals seen with awe!
A starry crown thy raven brow adorns,
An azure zone thy waist: clouds, in heaven's loom
Wrought through varieties of shape and shade,
In ample folds of drapery divine,
Thy flowing mantle form, and, heaven throughout,
Voluminously pour thy pompous train:
2. Thy gloomy grandeurs — Nature's most august Inspiring aspect! — claim a grateful verse;
And, like a sable curtain starred with gold,
3. Night, sable goddess! from her ebon throne,
Her leaden sceptre o'er a slumbering world.
4. Creation sleeps. 'T is^as the general pulse
1. 'T Was far beyond yon mountains, dear, we plighted vows of love; The ocean-wave was at our feet, the autumn sky above;
The pebbly shore was covered o'er with many a varied shell,
2. I wiled thee to a lonely haunt, that bashful love might speak Where none could hear what love revealed, or see the crimson cheek; The shore was all deserted, and we wandered there alone,
And not a human step impressed the sand-beach but our own.
Thy footsteps all have vanished from the willow-beaten strand';
The vows we breathed remain with us — they were not traced in sand.
3. Far, far we left the sea-girt shore, endeared by childhood's dream. To seek the humble cot that smiled by fair Ohio's stream;
In vain the mountain cliff opposed, the mountain torrent roared, V
4. Beyond those mountains now are all that e'er we loved or knew, The long-remembered many, and the dearly-cherished few:
The home of her we value, and the grave of him we mourn,
A Baronial Tower. — Scott.
1. Day set on Norham's castled steep, And Tweed's fair river, broad and deep,
* Judge Hall has written several valuable works respecting the Western States, and his name is interwoven with their periodical literature.
And Cheviot's mountains lone;
2. The warriors on the turrets high,
Their armor, as it caught the rays,
3. St. George's banner, broad and gay,
Less bright, and less, was flung;
4. The scouts had parted on their search,
Above the gloomy portal arch,
1, He comes not — I have watched the moon go down, But yet he comes not. Once it was not so.
He thinks not how these bitter tears do flow,
2. O! how I love a mother's watch to keep,
He ever wears a frown upon his brow,