TEN YEARS AGO. TEN years ago-ten years ago— Had sered not then its pathway green; Time has not blanched a single hair, Though somewhat stained by secret tears;- I too am changed-I scarce know why;- In the first summer month of life; Yet journey on my path below- But look not thus-I would not give The wreck of hopes that thou must share, To bid those joyous hours revive, When all around me seemed so fair! We've wandered on in sunny weather, When winds were low, and flowers in bloom, And still will keep, 'mid storm and gloom, Has fortune frowned? Her frowns were vain! Twin barks on this world's changing wave, Nor mourn, whatever winds may blow, Have we not knelt beside his bed, And watched our first-born blossom die? To think-mid mutual tears and sighs- And burst to bloom in Paradise? Yes, it is sweet, when Heaven is bright, Time that hath friends and hopes estranged, Sweet feelings we would not forego February 3, 1824. A. A. W. LINES SENT WITH AN HOUR GLASS TO A LADY ON NEW YEAR'S DAY. YES all things fade away That the soul cherishes and seeks on earth ;Fair flowers! that do but bloom their summer's day, And are forgot--their being and their birth. Youth hath its favoured hour, Of fancies, and high hopes, and dazzling dreams; It flies and with it all the glittering dower That to young bosoms the securest seems! And Manhood's hour comes next, Fevered and filled with the world's active thought; Schemes, and ambitions ;-till the spirit vexed,Finds that its hour hath fled--and left it nought! Shortest and last is thine, Wasted in vain regrets and memories-Age! For while thy retrospects too brightly shine, The sand ebbs out-so doth thy pilgrimage! Thus pleasure hath its hour! And grief and pain and peril have no more; Hatred, and love, but the same transient power, Time but remains-ruling as heretofore! On--conqueror of the earth! And fold not yet thy world-destroying wing! Still reign--while scattering man's work and worth, Omnipotent! o'er each created thing! Thy end will come, Oh Time! When thou, a conqueror shalt conquered be; Thyself, thy victories, and thy power sublime, No more remembered-in Eternity! Leeds Intelligencer. M. J. J. THE COVENANTER'S HEATHER-BED. This poem, suggested by the picture representing the Temptation of St. Anthony, by Teniers, exemplifies the different aspect which the same subject and situation would assume when clothed in the images supplied by Scottish Puritanism. A STORMY night and dark, had closed a gloomy day, His feet were tired and damp, with the clays of many a hill, When the powers of darkness thronged with persevering spite, And first a black one came, and said, with scornful eye, You boldly walk by day, while sunshine warms the ground; The breeze cheers up your heart, and the wild bee hums around, But when our dark hour comes, your songs and vaunts decrease, And, trusting to your works, you fain would sleep in peace ;— But if in works you trust, I have witnesses behind, Who can speak of former deeds, and recall them to your mind,' And then straightway the fiend for another fiend made room, And said, 'This broom was cut in that glen of gowans fine, When with her you would sit, one plaid encircled both, You called yourself her true love to her you pledged your troth; But when you grew a man, and was master of some sheep, And saw some farmers' daughters, you left her there to weep; Among the lonely knolls her heart sobbed out its pain, The one who next appeared, a tattered bible bore, A The next who came to taunt, a piece of money showed, Tormented thus and stung by many a bitter word, 'The last,' he cries, is false !' and starts and grasps his sword. 1 LOVE. NAY, pray thee, let me weep, for tears I'll weep his smiles, for first they taught Literary Gazette. |