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His head upon a stone reclined,

And as he poured his parting breath, Methought the living spark enshrined,

Was triumphing in death..

A few faint beams of living light

Were struggling through the grated bar; Illumining the path of night,

And pointing to his home afar : Awhile he ceased, and on his cheek,

There stood a hue of heavenly birth; And if a voiceless thing can speak,

It said dissolve thou earth!'

And then his eye grew proudly bright,

And glory stamped his pallid brow;
Hosanna ! for the steeds of light!

Now Father, for the chariot, now,-
The fiery car—the living steed

My Father's house-my spirit's dome-Burst, burst your bonds the soul is freed,

Rise to your Eden home!'

Anon.

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The mist is on the mountain,

The dew is on the flower,
The shadow on the fountain

Now deeper down doth lower!
The foliage, though brown its dress,

Assumes a browner hue ;
For day, with all its loveliness,

Is fading from my view. .

II.

The stars are in the heaven sown,

And like to angels' eyes,
In gentleness are looking down,

As pitying my sighs ;
The moon is brightly beaming on

Our favourite bower and me;
And must I linger here alone,

My Lady-love, for thee?

III.

Our trysted hour long since hath rung

From every neighbouring tower;
The nightingale her hymn hath sung,

To hail the twilight hour ;
Then what can stay my Lady-love,

Why tarries she so late?
'Tis past her time the turtle dove

Is nestled with his mate

IV.

A step is on the yielding grass,

Light as the morning dew;
And ah ! the flowers that feel her pass,

Rise brighter to the view;
"Tis she herself who treads the grove,

With fleetest, foot to me,
My Lady-love ! my Lady-love!
All welcome be to thee!

William Anderson, THE PAINS OF SLEEP.

Ere on my bed my limbs I lay, It hath not been my use to pray With moving lips or bended knees; But silently, by slow degrees, My spirit I to love compose, In humble trust my eye-lids close With reverential resignation, No wish conceived, no thought expressed ! Only a sense of supplication, A sense o'er all my soul imprest That I am weak, yet not unblest, Since in me, round me, every where; Eternal strength and wisdom are.

But yester-night I prayed aloud,
In anguish and in agony,
Up-starting from the fiendish crowd
Of shapes and thoughts that tortured me,
A lurid light, a trampling throng,
Sense of intolerable wrong,
And whom I scorned, those only strong!

Thirst of revenge, the powerless will
Still baffled, and yet burning still !
Desire with loathing strangely mixed
On wild or hateful objects fixed.

Fantastic passions ! maddening brawl !
And shame and terror over all !
Deeds to be hid which were not hid,
Which all confused I could not know,
Whether I suffered, or I did :
For all seemed guilt, remorse or woe,
My own or others still the same,
Life-stifling fear, soul-stifling shame!

So two nights passed : the night's dismay
Saddened and stunned the coming day,
Sleep, the wide blessing seemed to me
Distemper's worst calamity.
The third night, when my own loud scream
Had waked me from the fiendish dream,
O'ercome with sufferings strange and wild,
I wept as I had been a child ;
And having thus by tears subdued
My anguish to a milder mood,
Such punishments, I said, were due

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