Kill not her quickening power with surfeitings: Mar not her sense with sensuality: Cast not away her wit on idle things: Make not her free will slave to vanity. And when thou think'st of her eternity, Think not that death against her nature is; Think it a birth: and when thou goest to die, Sing like a swan, as if thou went'st to bliss. And if thou, like a child, didst fear before, Being in the dark, where thou didst nothing see; Now I have brought thee torch-light, fear no more; Now, when thou diest, thou canst not hoodwink'd be. And thou, my soul, which turn'st with curious eye To view the beams of thine own form divine, Know that thou canst know nothing perfectly, Whilst thou art clouded with this flesh of mine. Take heed of overweening, and compare, Thy peacock's feet with thy gay peacock's train: Cast down thyself, and only strive to raise Q FAREWELL. Barton. NAY, shrink not from the word " farewell!" Even the last parting earth can know, To souls that heavenward soar; THE FIRST WANDERER. CREATION's heir! the first, the last, Yet stood he 'mid his kingdom vast, A fugitive-o'erthrown! Faded and frail the glorious form, And changed the soul within, While pain, and grief, and strife, and storm, Told the dark secret-SIN! Unaided and alone on earth, He bade the heavens give ear; He saw round Eden's distant steep Alas! they were but sent to keep Then turn'd he reckless to his own, While crashing forests joined the wail, This spoke the lion's prowling roar ; And this the victim's cry : This, written in defenceless gore, And not alone each fiercer Power Though mortal, doom'd to many a length Sons rose around in pride and strength,- Seen in the widow's silent tears; Ask not the wanderer's after fate, Still briar and thorn his life o'ergrow; And pain, and care, and sorrow show The same dark secret,-SIN! THE MISSIONARY. HE left his home, his native land, He left his home-oh! none can tell Each sunny spot where he had stray'd, He left his fertile, verdant fields |