MY BIRTH-DAY.

“My birth-day”—what a different sound That word had in my youthful ears! And how each time the day comes round,

Less and less white its mark appears!

When first our scanty years are told,
It seems like pastime to grow old;
And as Youth counts the shining links,
That Time around him binds so fast,
Pleased with the task, he little thinks

How hard that chain will press at last.
Vain was the man, and false as vain,

Who said "were he ordain'd to run His long career of life again,

He would do all that he had done."
Ah, 't is not thus the voice, that dwells
In sober birth-days, speaks to me;
Far otherwise-of time it tells,

Lavish'd unwisely, carelessly;
Of counsel mock'd; of talents, made
Haply for high and pure designs,
But oft, like Israel's incense, laid
Upon unholy, earthly shrines;
Of nursing many a wrong desire;
Of wandering after Love too far,
And taking every meteor fire,

That cross'd my pathway, for his star.-
All this it tells, and, could I trace
The imperfect picture o'er again,
With power to add, retouch, efface

The light and shades, the joy and pain,

How little of the past would stay!
How quickly all should melt away—
All, but that Freedom of the Mind,

Which hath been more than wealth to me;
Those friendships, in my boyhood twined,

And kept till now unchangingly;
And that dear home, that saving ark,

Where Love's true light at last I've found,
Cheering within, when all grows dark,

And comfortless, and stormy round!

MEMORY.

BUT is Her magic only felt below?

MOORE.

Say, through what brighter realms she bids it flow;
To what pure beings, in a nobler sphere,
She yields delight but faintly imaged here:

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All that till now their rapt researches knew,

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Not call'd in slow succession to review;
But, as a landscape meets the eye of day,
At once presented to their glad survey!

Each scene of bliss reveal'd, since chaos fled, And dawning light its dazzling glories spread; Each chain of wonders that sublimely glow'd, Since first Creation's choral anthem flow'd; Each ready flight, at Mercy's call divine,

To distant worlds that undiscover'd shine;

Full on her tablet flings its living rays,

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And all, combined, with blest effulgence blaze.
There thy bright train, immortal Friendship, soar;
No more to part, to mingle tears no more!
And, as the softening hand of Time endears
The joys and sorrows of our infant-years,

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So there the soul, released from human strife,
Smiles at the little cares and ills of life;

Its lights and shades, its sunshine and its showers;
As at a dream that charm'd her vacant hours!
Oft may the spirits of the dead descend
To watch the silent slumbers of a friend;
To hover round his evening walk unseen,
And hold sweet converse on the dusky green;
To hail the spot where first their friendship grew,
And heaven and nature open'd to their view!
Oft, when he trims his cheerful hearth, and sees
A smiling circle emulous to please;

There may these gentle guests delight to dwell,
And bless the scene they loved in life so well!

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O thou! with whom my heart was wont to share 35 From Reason's dawn each pleasure and each care; With whom, alas! I fondly hoped to know

The humble walks of happiness below;
If thy blest nature now unites above
An angel's pity with a brother's love,
Still o'er my life preserve thy mild control,
Correct my views, and elevate my soul;

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Grant me thy peace and purity of mind,

Devout yet cheerful, active yet resign'd;

Grant me, like thee, whose heart knew no disguise, 45
Whose blameless wishes never aim'd to rise,

To meet the changes Time and Chance present,
With modest dignity and calm content.
When thy last breath, ere Nature sunk to rest,
Thy meek submission to thy God express'd;
When thy last look, ere thought and feeling fled,
A mingled gleam of hope and triumph shed;

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What to thy soul its glad assurance gave,
Its hope in death, its triumph o'er the grave?
The sweet remembrance of unblemish'd youth,
The still inspiring voice of Innocence and Truth!
Hail, MEMORY, hail! in thy exhaustless mine
From age to age unnumber'd treasures shine!
Thought and her shadowy brood thy call obey,
And Place and Time are subject to thy sway!
Thy pleasures most we feel, when most alone;
The only pleasures we can call our own.
Lighter than air, Hope's summer-visions die,
If but a fleeting cloud obscure the sky;
If but a beam of sober Reason play,
Lo, Fancy's fairy frost-work melts away!
But can the wiles of Art, the grasp of Power,
Snatch the rich relics of a well-spent hour?
These, when the trembling spirit wings her flight,
Pour round her path a stream of living light;
And gild those pure and perfect realms of rest,
Where Virtue triumphs, and her sons are blest!

ROGERS.

HUMAN LIFE.

THE lark has sung his carol in the sky;
The bees have humm'd their noon-tide harmony.
Still in the vale the village-bells ring round,

Still in Llewellyn-hall the jests resound:
For now the caudle-cup is circling there,

Now, glad at heart, the gossips breathe their prayer, And, crowding, stop the cradle to admire

The babe, the sleeping image of his sire.

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A few short years—and then these sounds shall hail

The day again, and gladness fill the vale;

So soon the child a youth, the youth a man,
Eager to run the race his fathers ran.

Then the huge ox shall yield the broad sirloin;

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The ale, now brew'd, in floods of amber shine;
And basking in the chimney's ample blaze,
Mid many a tale told of his boyish days,
The nurse shall cry, of all her ills beguiled,
"'T was on these knees he sate so oft and smiled."
And soon again shall music swell the breeze;
Soon, issuing forth, shall glitter through the trees 20
Vestures of nuptial white; and hymns be sung,
And violets scatter'd round; and old and young,
In every cottage-porch with garlands green,
Stand still to gaze, and, gazing, bless the scene;
While, her dark eyes declining, by his side
Moves in her virgin-veil the gentle bride.

And once, alas, nor in a distant hour,
Another voice shall come from yonder tower;
When in dim chambers long black weeds are seen,
And weepings heard where only joy has been;
When by his children borne, and from his door
Slowly departing to return no more,

He rests in holy earth with them that went before.
And such is Human Life: so gliding on,
It glimmers like a meteor, and is gone!

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ROGERS.

CHILDHOOD.

THE day arrives, the moment wish'd and fear'd;
The child is born, by many a pang endear'd.