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tional History, and Alison's mellifluent thoughts morn of manhood thou didst promise love, on Taste, and Chalmers' bursts of eloquence, honour, and protection for ever? and Carlyle's massive and colossal works, and That these pall on the taste at seasons is no Brougham's sarcasms, and Jeffrey's and Macau- real objection, since this dissatisfaction is not lay's and Gilfillan's powerful criticisms ?-do consequent on possession, but on the state of these cloy ?—are they not as redolent with our minds. There are seasons when we are beauty and sweetness, grandeur and sublimity, so debilitated and worn-out, that we become as when first we turned their page ?

apathetic to everything, and among other obThe oftener we con over the fourth Georgic, jects, to those dearest to our hearts; but surely with its hum of bees, its fresh green leaves, we are not so regardless of truth, as to assert its clear bright rills, its transparent pools edged that this is the sequence to possession, and not with moss, its serene summer sky, its daffodils the natural effect of our fallen condition. Posand hyacinths, its shady palms, and stately session does not necessarily cloy; the apathy oleasters, and plane-trees, ministering their um- proceeds from ourselves, and did we not possess brage to the drinkers; its willows and osiers those beloved beings, we should feel precisely shadowing themselves in the murmuring stream; the same; but when once again the soul is its insects which “ float amid the liquid noon,' buoyant, we return with a deeper love and tenits woodpeckers and other birds, its picture of derer regard to those whose lives are linked so the old Corycian, equalling in his contentment closely and so inviolably with our own. the wealth of kings, and plucking the ripened But the wise man looked on all things beneath fruits, and chiding the delaying zephyrs, and the sun, and found them to be but“ vanity and its exquisite story of Eurydice, the more sweetly vexation of spirit. True. But he sought for does it beam with golden light and scent with that which cannot be found in the earthly delicious odour; and the sublimity of Æschylus creature : he omitted the grand principle of becomes more intense and terrific, and the deep love to God; he tried all mundane joys apart pathos of Euripides more subtle, and the thun- from this vital energy; he was without Jehoders of Demosthenes more sonorous and crash- vah; he knew him not; the pleasures of this ing, and the magnificence of Lucretius more sublunary state were considered only in thembright and glorious, and the words of the stately selves, unallied with the great moving influTacitus more pregnant with meaning, and the ence. “Not always can flowers, pearls, poetry, gracefulness of Sophocles more delicate, and protestations, nor even home in another heart, the wild majesty of Homer more lofty and content the awful soul that dwells in clay: harmonious, and the symmetry of Cicero more these could not satisfy it ; that soul rose higher; perfect, and the flowers of Horace more sunny all things faded, perished, and were forgotten; and lovely, at every fresh perusal of their works; he had no sublime creed, and hence the recorded and Pindar's lines sparkle, and Anacreon's glit- sentence, “vanity and vexation.” His design ter, and Apuleius's glow ever sweetly. Does was to lead humanity to the Everlasting; and the possession of them eclipse their glory!-- in this light all is changed: instead of passing rather, does it not kindle in them a deeper and away, we are renewed ; instead of dying, we a richer beauty, and give a more empurpled live; in the vast "conflux of eternity,' everytint to their several labours :—and when cast thing is invested with dignity and grace. Once down and slighted by your fellow-men, do they love was thought to be limited to this narrow not win you to them—win you from dulness scene; but now we know it stretches far beand gloom to sunshine and everlasting peace ?- yond; without Jesus, all our gratifications are win you from doubt and distress to the music- vain, but in him they become lasting sweets; land of heaven ? Possession cloy!

!-we know there is no decay; we progress onwards ; we not what it means.

learn daily some wondrous lesson. With the And the affections, do they cloy? When Christian therefore, it ill accords to believe in holy, never. The fond youth who, in moments the opinion we have been combating; he is of hallowed love, paints the future home of his under a different government; the rainbow is blessedness with all its tender endearments and around the throne, and in its lovely colours we delicious sweets, shall find in after life the de- read the fact that possession does not neceslightful reality; he does not dream in vain; he sarily cloy. cannot picture a happiness too great or a bliss Our poet next sings a song of eventide and too high: he shall sit in that quiet abode, and early dawn :his children shall be about him, and the object

Evening and Morning-those two ancient names of his holiest love shall talk in melodies beau- So linked with childish wonder, when with arm tiful as those accents that erst were heard in

Fast wound about the neck of one we loved,

Oft questioning, we heard Creation's taleParadise; the reality will shame the fairy hope;

Evening and morning ever brought to me it will be more luscious and more heavenly. Strange joy; the birth and funeral of light, What! does the soft prattle of thy babe ever Whether in clear, unclouded majesty weary :-does its blue sparkling eye of confiding

The large sun poured his effluence abroad,

Or the grey clouds rolled silently along, truth ever tire:--does its reposing affection Dropping their doubtful tokens as they passed; ever annoy ?-are they not more precious every Whether above the hills intensely glowed hour? Does the possession of that child cloy?

Bright lines of parting glory in the west,

Or from the veil of faintly-reddened mist And is the trustful tenderness of thy wife less

The darkness slow descended on the earth; pleasing and less grateful, her anxiety to pro- The passing to a state of things all newmote thy comfort, her fond devotedness to thee New fears and new enjoyments--this was all and thee alone, her daily self-sacrifices to cheer

Food for my seeking spirit: I would stand

Upon the jutting hills that overlook and lead thee on thy path, her inviolate faith,

Our level moor, and watch the daylight fade less dear and less invaluable, than when in the Along the prospect: now behind the leaves

- All

The golden twinkles of the westering sun

we mingle with our forefathers, with those who Deepened to richest crimson: now from out

once sat in yonder school-house, who worshipThe solemn beech-grove, through the natural aisles Of pillared trunks, the glory in the west

ped within those grey walls, and knelt at that Shewed like Jehovah's presence fire, beheld

sacred altar to receive the memorials of Christ's In olden times above the Mercy-seat

death and Christ's resurrection, and who now Between the folded wings of Cherubim ;loved to wander, with the evening star

sleep in that silent ground; and we are sad Heading my way, till from the palest speck

“because they are not.” Of virgin silver, evermore lit up.

Methinks I could have borne to live my days With radiance as by spirits ministered,

When by the path.way side, and in the dells, She seemed a living pool of golden light:

By shading resting place, or hollow bank I loved to learn the strange array of shapes

Where curved the streamlet, or on peeping rock, That pass along the circle of the year;

Rose sweetly to the traveller's humble eye Some, for the love of ancient yore, I kept ;

The Cross in every corner of our land; And they would call into my fancy's eye

When from the wooded valleys morn and eve Chaldæan beacons, over the drear sand

Past the low murmur of the angel-bell;
Seen faintly from thick-towered Babylon,

Methinks I could have led a peaceful life
Against the sunset-shepherds in the field,
Watching their flocks by night-or shapes of men

Daily beneath the triple-vaulted roof

Chanting glad matins, and amidst the glow And high-necked camels, passing leisurely

Of mellow evening towards the village-tower
Along the starred horizon, where the spice

Pacing my humble way.
Swims in the air, in Araby the Blest;
And some, as Fancy led, I figured forth,

There is something very beautiful in the Misliking their old names ; one circlet bright

story of Alford's early love; it has a sweetness Gladdens me often, near the northern wain,

and a freshness which continually pleases, a Which, with a childish playfulness of choice That hath not passed away, I loved to call

purity and a grace which ever delights. The crown of glory, by the righteous Judge

men," is is said by Emerson, “ feel interested Against the day of his appearing, laid

in a lover ;” and when that lover is a poet, In store for him who fought the fight of faith.

and touches the harp's melodious strings, one The beauty of the strain steals over us ; me- cannot choose but listen :mories arise, clad in a soft, golden light; once

Gentlest girl, again we are seated in the snug parlour, it is

Thou wert a bright creation of my thought the still and quiet hour of evening; the blinds In earliest childhood-and my seeking soul are drawn, the shutters closed, and the fire stir- Wandered ill-satisfied, till one blest day red; the taper is brought in ; our mother opens

Thine image passed athwart it-thou wert then “the big ha' Bible at creation's tale-she

A young and happy child, sprightly as life ;

Yet not so bright or beautiful as that reads! we listen intently; our little eyes glisten Mine inward vision ;-but a whispering voice with delight: we arise, we clamber up the knees Said softly-This is she whom thou didst choose; of that beloved one, and throw our arms around

And thenceforth ever, through the morn of life,

Thou wert my playmate-thou my only joy, her neck: tenderly she looks down on us; Thou my chief sorrow when I saw thee not.tenderly we look up to her. Reader, remem- And when my daily consciousness of life berest thou a similar scene :-if so, think there

Was born and died -thy name the last went up,

Thy name the first, before our Heavenly Guide, on, and heed not if it makes thee “play, the

For favour and protection. All the flowers woman.

Whose buds I cherished, and in summer heats (bloom, And when we grew older, how soothing it Fed with mock showers, and proudly showed their was to wander up some hill, watching the

For thee I reared, because all beautiful

And gentle things reminded me of thee: evening star : the pensive feelings of that hour

Yea, and the morning, and the rise of sun, return upon us.

We wondered what could And the fall of evening, and the starry host, make it shine so brightly, yet influence us to so If aught I loved, I loved because thy name

Sounded about me when I looked on them. much melancholy; and they told us that it was a better land than ours, that its fields yielded A sweet reminiscence this of faithful lovethe amaranth and wild olive, that its pure and a gem gained from the beautiful Eden !-it unfallen beings sang hymns of liquid praise. seems surrounded by the delicious breath of Then would imaginings come of that home's Paradise. This affection creates anew the world; sweet joys and that home's sweet charms; and the woods waving in the breeze become vocal; the sometimes, too, we fancied that a strain of the streams pouring along their limpidwaterswhisper immortal song caught our ears, and we would as with a song; the flowers, casting upward their walk faster and listen; but it was the note of odoriferous perfumes, murmur as with a silver the wood pigeon, or the plaintive warbling of strain ; the mountains piercing the deep blue the nightingale; and when we went to rest, we heavens with their “ snow-capped” summits, thought of that star, and it seemed begirt with and on which the sun pours down its rays, mystery; waking or sleeping, it filled all ou making them glow as if an emerald or an mind.

amethyst burned, resound as with a holy How many there are who love the remaining hymn: and the vast rolling ocean, bellowing Crosses of our native land ! How sweet, when beneath the twinkling stars and lashing the entering a secluded and quiet village, to behold searocks and the shore, gushes as with an evera fine old cross standing upon a grassy mound, lasting anthem. Man awakens to a new beingthe emblem of our holy faith ; we scarce know enters into a new life; the imagination sees in of any sight more pleasing. There is a solitari- all created things some semblance to the object ness and loneliness about such mouldering pil. of its regard ; a passion has taken possession lars, that while they remind us of our blessed of his spirit

, and sways it with a mighty energy; religion, forget not also to teach us the lesson within its grasp he is all weakness, and yet all of earthly decay. To the past they belong, and powerful—he is a subject, and yet a king'; it is to the past they carry us back; they breathe a higher state of existence; he is born anew into the soul the pensive music of other years: from the nether world : he is exalted above the

earth, and yet he loves the earth with a fonder what fresh and blushing loveliness! and how love than heretofore--for once he feels himself sweet its music-sweet, yet having the roll of the lord of the universe. Everything has a thunders ! All soul to comprehend it fully—to significancy-all is symbolical ; his thoughts, realize it in all its grace, and truth, and meaning! which were formerly confined to some narrow Perhaps some of the finest descriptions we spot, now burst their fetters, and expatiate over have, are those which depict the calmness of the whole scene of vitality. “ The height is universal nature amid the confusion and tumult gained, the mist has fallen ; he stands as in a

of man.

Billow and surge and roll as he may, blooming landscape girt by immensity--a purer still the golden beauty of the morning, and the sunshine has illuminated all his conceptions ; silver loveliness of the evening, spread themhe is refined and ennobled ; his pristine dignity selves over the earth. “ The flowers return is restored; soul meets soul; and in some with the cuckoo in the spring: the daisy fresh mysterious commingling they love for ever. looks bright in the sun; the rainbow still How it comes to pass we know not; how it lifts its head above the storm to the eye of begins, we cannot discover; it must remain infancy or age.”—There may be hurry and unravelled; it is not of time, it is of eternity: noise amongst us, yet creation is one unruffled our sacrifices become purest delights; our af- quietude; no sound is emitted but the sound flictions, holiest joys; it is a theriac against the of peace; no voice but the voice of birds, and injuries and scoffs of the world-a crucible in trees, and rills ; no language but the language which the very dregs of bitterness are changed of soft, hushed eloquence. Strange this and into the nectar of the gods.

marvellous ! All is serene above and around; Another extract, and we close our notice of the stars shine out as before, and the moon this beautiful poem :

glimmers in the ocean. We have been dwellers in a lovely land,

This striking fact painters and poets have A land of lavish lights and floating shades,

seized. How sweet and spring-scented, for And broad green flats, bordered by woody capes

instance, are the last few lines of the second That lessen ever as they stretch away Into the distant blue; a land of hills,

book of the Æneid, which shew us the morning Cloud-gathering ranges, on whose ancient breast star rising above Mount Ida: the din and The morning mists repose ; each autumn tide

bloodshed and flames have passed—the Trojan Deep purple with the heath-bloom; from whose brow

city is in ruins—the dark night is rolling backWe might behold the crimson sun go down Behind the barrier of the western sea :

wards-dawn streaks the horizon—the dimness A land of beautiful and stately fanes,

fades away-the sun veers upwards, and the Aerial temples most magnificent,

hill-tops are golden with his beams. There is Rising with clusters of rich pinnacles

relief; man feels it. The break of day, as calm And fretted battlements ; a land of towers, Where sleeps the music of deep-voiced bells,

and as silent as ever : it takes no note of a fallen Save when in holyday time the joyous air

empire: no, it is as fresh and unruffled as when Ebbs to the welling sound; and Sabbath morn, the holy pair erst stood, and lowly bending, When from a choir of hill-side villages The peaceful invitation churchward chimes.

hymned their welcome. All so still, all so So were our souls brought up to love this earth

quiet. The light comes down as usual ; the And feed on natural beauty: and the light

valleys stand out in the bright rays; the forests Of our own sunsets, and the mountains blue

are radiant with beauty; the hare starts in the That girt around our home, were very parts

thicket as before ; the lion roars in the desert; Of our young being; linked with all we knew, Centres of interest for undying thoughts

the dove coos in the copse; nature is the same; And themes of mindful converse. Happy they

Priam's imperial throne how darkened ! Who in the fres and dawning time of youth

Ever thus, creation changes and yet changes Have dwelt in such a land, tuning their souls To the deep melodies of Nature's laws

not; the snow-drop comes out, bảooms, and Heard in the after-time of riper thought

dies; still the sweet, modest floweret lives; it Reflective on past seasons of delight.

has breathed its consolation into the heart, Yes, this is indeed a lovely land; a land of amid dark, drear winter it unfolded its white groves

and gardens ; a land of hills and dales ; petals in silence, but not in vain ; ---wintry sleet å land of running brooks and wide curying came down, and wintry winds swept by, but rivers ; a land of the butterfly and bee; a land they bore not away its beauty. The soul took of lordly mansions and princely castles; a land the emblem; it was a symbol ; it has passed of secluded villages and bustling towns; a land away, but in man's spirit'it exists ; there it has of the beautiful church and the magnificent an immortality; tumult was hovering, and night cathedral; a land of Sabbath bells and soft ready to cover as with a huge thunderous cloud, eventides; a land of religious freedom and re- and yet it sprang up and blossomed, as if no ligious truth! The woodbine cottage, and the harm or danger was near. ruddy child, and the low sweet parsonage, and This quietude of nature is a semblance of the the wild heaths and purple mountains, and the eternal rest; it whispers to us of the better land. gushing torrents, and the dark deep lakes, and what mysteries entwine this beautiful earth! the romantic ruins of a former age, are ours, They speak to our heart; they sing a holy song and belong for ever to the land we love.

of the coming paradise; yet its stillness is its Man must gaze alone on the vast universe; most exquisite music. he must be its presiding genius; he must throw Our love of this softness and tranquillity in around it every colour and every tinge of his creation is linked with a higher principle than inward mind; he must shape and form it to we at first perceive; it is the doctrine of rest the thoughts of his own spirit—the priest at and energy in the future abode. We may becreation's altar. Symbolical, too, of the fair hold this idea worked out in the sculptured majesty of the eternal-what grandeur it puts marble of the ancient world; so exquisitely on! what sublimity! what serenity! what quiet! chiselled it is, that whilst gazing on the per

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sonification of almighty power or superhuman gling in bygone years, have you

not felt

peace agony, we feel a stillness breathing itself over and a quietude, deep as the grey of yonder sky, the soul. There is a serene beauty in each yet profound as the magnificent roll of existfeature; a soothing quietude: those ancient ence? Then was shadowed forth the eternal men felt that rest was the emblem of the celes- rest; and these men, these ancient men, would tial realm ; nature deepened this feeling. Amid ofttimes experience the same enchanting influthe stormy scenes of life would they oftentimes ence; and they sang a song of the nether look back on the days of infancy, when as open- paradise, and its delicious music lingers yet on hearted babes they played beneath the vine, the ear. and gathered the orange-blossom, and narcissus, Even their fables discover the same principle. and anemone, or when they nestled themselves We select one- - the story of Psyche and Cupid : in the fond bosoms of their mothers: it was rest how exquisitely it reveals the scriptural fact that then, and lively activity. And oftentimes, too, the coming heaven consists in love and rest. would they, when casting a glance into the This doctrine pervades the whole of this sweet dread unknown, deem that it would be some- tale: how it unfolds the soul's affection for thing like the time of childhood and the days something higher, and loftier, and purer than of youth ; that over all would reign a delicious aught on earth ; how it exhibits the spirit's and undisturbed repose. Rest to men, storm- attachment to the everlasting love! Psyche beaten, weather-beaten men, would be the ely- catches a glimpse of the perfect beauty, and sium of their dreams, the Arcadia of their fondest she loves once and for ever : but she is earthly, hopes. And the serene peacefulness of their and hence she doubts and mistrusts. The fine eventides would confirm the anticipation. At sunny radiance which before streamed from those seasons, every care was laid aside, and heaven becomes darkened: to regain that light, they sat with their own beloved ones under the there must be struggles, deep, mighty struggles; spreading branches of some majestic tree. Rest there must be faith. Ah! these ancient men then would be associated with all their ideas knew something of the coming revelation : by of happiness and unsullied bliss : and we find struggles, by faith, by the help of invisible or this to be true; for when their mighty spirits Almighty powers, by encouragement from above, arose, they gave the expression of this fact in by starlight in shades, and sunlight in gloom, their immortal works of art.

the soul triumphs. Psyche wins her first and The heathen philosophers, who taught that fondest Cupid ; they are for ever united ; the the soul was a particle of the Divinity, and that alliance is immaculate ; their home is garlanded at death it would return, and become again by the celestial flowers, and those flowers are linked to the Supreme, had this idea of rest at love and rest. Is there nothing taught here? bottom. There was a sublime truth in their Is there not a divine breathing, and a divine doctrines ; once with the Deity, and there expression ? Union with the God of love, what would be peace profound as the blue of heaven. means it? Everlasting intimacy with the source This union with the Creator was the perfection of all tenderness, what does it tell? Is there of happiness. As He was beyond all change here no true shadowing of the future ; no and decay, so the soul, when joined again to breaking in of unseen reality; no bursting forth Him, would likewise be without change and of immortal verity? without decay. They felt that there could be Not only do we discern this principle in the no lasting bliss apart from God; and their work of the sculptor, of poet, and of philosohearts told them that in the re-union of the pher, but we think it may be discovered in spirit with him, there could alone be unruffled those vast piles which rear their pinnacles and and imperishable joy. Those evening hours in minarets and cupolas to the fair heavens : which they meditated in the deep gloom of these breathe out a tranquil beauty; there some umbrageous forest, revealed to them that seems to be a deep, soft, spiritual power about quietude was the distinguishing feature in the them; the very air around them is hushed to future world. Once and again they felt a prin- stillness ; when we gaze on their architectural ciple within which threw a sweet and chastened symmetry, we are enchained; we speak not; beauty over the events of life, and over the words are too grating, they disturb too much visible creation: a principle which shaped every the unruffled quietude. It is the same with the tumultuous chaos, and moulded every stormy simple kirk and the magnificent cathedral: we passion to order and gracefulness; a principle feel that they possess a potent power; that which beamed on the throbbing soul a soft power fetters the soul, and yet leaves it freer alabaster light, and soothed and subdued many than before ; we are calmed-it is as if we stood of its evil desires. From whence came this in the presence of a greater intellect; we are principle, they could not tell; suffice for us to awed; and it is even so, that stately fane was know, that it often steered them onwards through the conception and the design of the immortal the tempestuous ocean to the haven of everlast- mind. When it first glanced across the spirit, ing rest. Ah! reader, have you never watched the architect was gladdened, and he cherished the setting sun from the home of childhood, the idea as fondly as a mother cherisheth her and when its departing glories have calmed first-born. Well may it be so vital with exyour bosom, and its fine crimson and golden pression, so vocal with language; it is the colouring threw something of their tinge on the creation of the soul; she formed, and shaped, flowers beneath your feet, and when, letting and moulded it into grace, and then gave it your fancy loose, you have called to remem- substance and reality. We can touch, we can brance the beloved face of parent, and of kins- handle it: there it stands--a monument of man, and of friend, and losing yourself among what man can do; it is thought embodied; it the hallowed associations of the past, and min is the imagination clothed. Is it any wonder, then, that we are moved and stirred by its And we may, indeed, trace some knowledge influence: All these glorious buildings are thus gathered from the outward universe, in significant of peace; one almost feels solitary every bosom. The spirit culleth all the beautiand alone whilst admiring their beauty, so ful things of earth, and out of them doth it sweet is the music they whisper.

take such as are in sweet accordance with its The Grecian temples, wherever they stand, bright an cipation of the future world. seem to spread a tranquil softness over creation; Ah, it is a creation bathed in love and quietude. there is a solitude wherever they uprear their There may the feet stray in orange-groves ; graceful columns. They may, indeed, be sur- there the almond-tree buds, and the cassia rounded by worshippers, but there is yet a sen- | flowers, and the clove and basil pour forth sible stillness; silence is the presiding divinity: | their perfumes on every passing breeze; there if there are sounds, they are lost in the supreme the cedar, and the pine, and the fir adorn its sense of quietude. That polished temple, with vales, and the sun looks gloriously down upon its clear serene sky overhead, and its over- its pure and holy inhabitants. Rest is there, hanging palms, is rest sculptured.

and love-rest and love: all is one enchanting Man's mightiest works are instinct with this stillness-one enchanting silence. There is doctrine: it matters not whether it be poetry love, which signifies activity; rest, which sigor architecture, painting or sculpture, rest is nifies happiness : it is a fair and hallowed spot ; the chara eristic of ach and all. ook at and this expression of poet, and of painter, and Martin's Deluge ; and is it not true that, amid of sculptor, is but a shadow of its eternal softthe tremendous dashing of the rain, the surg- ness and eternal beauty, ing and billowing of the waters, the cries of Seest thou a soul struggling after a pleasant infants, the shrieks of men and women, and the home, embowered in shady grove, and trellised awful confusion of the scene, silence is felt to with the woodbine, rose, and sweet-pea, and be the pervading element? 'One cannot well beaming within with all the tenderness of faithexplain how, among things so opposite, there ful love; knowest thou that it is but pursuing should issue such calmness; but it is no less the object of existence, and obeying the great real because undivined. Were the Chaos principle of its being? Love and rest: who would sketched by a master-hand, even from this, not live and die for these ? with all its jarring noises, and discordant Stillness is the perfection of human nature: sounds, and crashing thunders, would there in that unruffled silence there is the exercise breathe forth a stillness and a tranquil quietude. of every faculty and every attribute. Why labour we so earnestly in our youth

In man's most blissful moments he is silent ; and manhood? why exhaust we our strength in his holiest seasons he is still; in his most and energy in the heyday of our existence hallowed communion with those he loves he is why the sunken eye? why the enfeebled frame without language; words fail him then: he why the pallid cheek? Is it not that when life's needs them not; there is a deeper expression shadows deepen, the evening of our days may than the softest intonations of the lips. See it be passed in the enjoyment of rest? It is not in the sculptured marble, and the dark, dim for the gold-god that we toil; no, not for that, cathedral pile, and the sketch of painter, and not for that! We long after rest; we pray for the creation of poet; see it, too, in our homes, rest. But remember, it is an active rest; a when we kneel before the throne; see it in rest on which may beam affection and constant those eventides when we sit with those "whom love. Rest is grateful after hardship; rest is God has given us," and watch the closing flower, sweet after the beating and raging of the ele. the rising moon, the vesper star. ments; rest is delicious after years of suffering; Among our author's minor productions there and when man looks on the fair and beautiful are many choice gems. There is much of creation, he feels that this, too, is the bliss of Wordsworth's style and sentiment in the folheaven.

lowing :Ambition may stir the breast of many, and it may seem to be the ruling principle in their

Without our parish bounds,

Beyond the poplar-avenue, struggle for pre-eminence and wealth; but

Across two meadow.grounds; even this is kept alive by the idea of rest.

And whensoe'er our two small bells Behind those honours, and far more honourable,

To church call merrily, arises an abode of peace and contentment.

Leaning on our churchyard gate,

This old man ye may see. Here they would spend the remainder of their

He is a man of many thoughts, days. It is not rank, it is not station that

That long have found their rest, they want so much; it is this. Fancy ever

Each in its proper dwelling place calleth up some rural retirement to nerve and

Settled within his breast:

A form erect, a stately brow, sinew the aspiring spirit in his conflict with the world. Have you ever marked the pure blue

The satisfied unroving look ether that often gleams through some broken

Of one who much hath seen. cloud ? It is an emblem of the rest he desires.

And once, when young in care of souls,

I watched a sick man's bed, We have lain in the deep flowery grass which

And willing half, and half ashamed, skirted a sylvan stream, and whilst listening to Lingered, and nothing said: its murmuring waters, and gazing upwards

The ancient man, in accents mild, with half-closed eye, have we been wafted as in

Removed my shame away

“ Listen !" he said; "the minister a sweet and pleasant dream to the land where

Prepares to kneel and pray." there is an unruffled calm. Why do we recol

These lines of humble thankfulness lect such moments with delight ? It is that

Will never meet his eye;

Unknown that old man means to live, they spoke to us of rest.

And unremembered die,

There is an ancient man who dwells

A set and measured mien

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