Home, all the spur thy footsteps need,
When loose the frozen rein is thrown.
Between the roaring blasts that shake
The naked Elder at.the door,
Though not one prattler to me speak,
Their sleeping sighs delight me more.
Sound is their rest:--they little know
What pain, what cold, their father feels;
But dream, perhaps, they see him now,
While each the promis'd Orange peels.
Would it were so !- the fire burns bright,
And on the warming trencher gleams;
In expectations raptur'd sight
How precious his arrival seems!
I'll look abroad! – 'tis piercing cold !-
How the bleak wind assails his breast!
Yet some faint light mine eyes behold:
The storm is verging o'er the West.
There shines a Star 1-0 welcome sight!-
Through the thin vapours bright’ning still!
Yet, 'twas beneath the fairest night
The murd'rer stain'd yon lonely hill.
Mercy, kind Heav'n! such thoughts dispel!
No voice, no footstep, can I hear!
(Where Night and Silence brooding dwell,
Spreads thy cold reign, heart chilling Fear.),
Distressing hour! uncertain fate!
( Mercy, Mercy, guide him home!
Hark - Then I heard the distant gate,
Repeat it, Echo; quickly, come!
One minute more will ease my fears-
Or, still more wretched must I be?
No: surely Heaven has spar'd our tears:
I see him cloath'd in snow;--'tis he.-
Where have you stay'd ? put down your load,
How have you borne the storm, the cold?
What horrors did I not forebode,

That Beast is worth his weight in gold. Thus spoke the joyful Wife;.... then ran And hid in grateful steams her head; Dapple was hous'd, the hungry man With joy glanc'd o'er the children's bed. What, all asleep !--so best; he cried : O what a night I've travell’d through! Unseen, unheard, I might have died; But Heaven has brought me safe to you. Dear Partner of my nights and days, That smile becomes thee!-Let us then Learn, though mislap may cross our ways, It is not ours to reckon when. The foregoing is an interesting display of the lively and affectionate concern, a kind woman feels for her absent husband, andit exemplifies in a happy manner some of the pleasures of the marriage state. While the husband knows with what anxious expectations his wife is longing for his return, his own mind is supported under the hardship and pain he endures, with the delightful consideration, that every step brings him nearer to that happy spot, where all that is dear to him will be at once enjoyed. While she relates her feelings and her fears; and he gently chides, or pretends to chide her for encouraging such fears, he cannot help feeling that the same fears, or worse, would have agitated his mind, had their circumstances been reversed.

0, what pleasures! what unutterable pleasures are experienced by an affectionate couple! And these pleasures often arise out of circumstances, which awake all their sympathetic concern, and bring their hopes and fears into full exercise, The occasional occurrence, of such endearing proofs of tender solicitude for each other's welfare, produces enjoyments which are most sweetly felt, but cannot be expressed.

It matters not, my dear Sir, in what station of life a man is, the feelings of human nature are the same in all conditions. These pleasures are the best of pleasures that can be enjoyd, in the most stately mansion, or the most humble dwelling; in the Palace, or in the Cot. tage.

• Where love, the balm of life, we miss,

What station can be blest?
Nor highest pomp affords us bliss,

Nor softest pillows rest.
If love domestic sniles not there,

How poor the Garter and the Star!' Among the great variety of pictures, which the vivid imagination of Homer has displayed throughout the Iliad, there is not one more pleasing than the family piece, which represents the parting in

terview between Hector and Andromache. Jt deeply interests the heart, while it delights the imagination. The hero ceases to be terrible, that he may become amiable. We admire him whilst he stands completely armed in the field of battle ; but we love him more whilst he is taking off his helmet, that he may not frighten his little boy with his nodding plumes. We are refreshed with the tender scene of domestic love, when all around breathes rage and discord. We are pleased to see the arm, which is shortly to deal death and destruction among a host of foes, employed in carressing an infant son with the embraces of paternal love.

- Ere yet I iningle in the direful fray,
My wife, my infant, claim a moment's stay;
This day (perhaps the last that sees me here)
Demands a parting word, a tender tear :
This day some God who hates our Trojan land
May vanquish Hector by a Grecian hand.
He said, and pass'd with sad presaging heart
To seek his spouse, his soul's far dearer part ;
At home he sought her, but he sought in vain :
She, with one maid of all her menial train,
Had thence retir'd; and with her second joy,
The young Astyanax, the hope of Troy.
Pensive she stood on Ilion's tow'ry height,
Beheld the war, and sicken'd at the sight;
There her sad eyes in vain her lord explore,
Or weep the wounds her bleeding country bore.

But he who found not whom his soul desir'd,
Whose virtue charm'd him as her beauty fir'd,
Stood in the gates, and ask'd what way she dent
Her parting step? If to the fane she went,
Where late the mourning matrons made resort;
Or sought her sisters in the Trojan court?
Not to the court, (reply'd th' attendant train,)
Nor mix'd with matrons to Minerva's fane :
To Ilion's steepy tow'r she bent her way,
To mark the fortunes of the doubtful day.
Troy fled she heard before the Grecian sword;
She heard and trembled for her absent lord:
Distracted with surprise, she seem'd to fly, .
Fear on her cheek and sorrow, in her eye.
The nurse attended with the infant boy,
The young Astyanax, the hope of Troy.
Hector this heard, return’d without delay;
Swift thro' the town he trod his former way,
Thro' streets of palaces and walks of state ;
And met the mourner at the Scaean gate.
With haste to meet him sprung the joyful fair,
His blameless wife, Aëtion's wealthy heir.

The nurse stood near, in whose embraces prest
His only hope hung smiling at her breast,
Whom each soft charm and early gracè adorn,
Fair as the new-born star that gilds the morn.

Silent the Warrior smild, and pleas'd resign'd To tender passions all his mighty mind : His beauteous princess cast a mournful look, Hung on his hand, and then dejected spoke; Her hosom labour'd with a boding sigh, And the big tear stood trembling in her eye. Too daring prince ! ah whither dost thou run? Ah too forgetful of thy wife and son! And think'st thou not how wretched we shall be, A widow I, an helpless orphan he! For sure such courage length of life deries,

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