Ór, o'er the seas in safety borne, Or, in some regal hot-house placed, Or, 'scaped from tempests, drought, and men,. Unhurt thy petals, leaves, or stem, Thou here may'st stay; And, having spread thy odours round, Sweet little flower, in thee I see An emblem of mortality And man's sad fate. Like thine, thus dubious is his lot, Not sure to live in any spot, Or any state: Sometimes he's tost on trouble's billow; And having passed through hope and fear, He's soon forgot, TO S****, WEEPING. Why shouldst thou weep? no cause hast thou No care has marked that polished brow, Why shouldst thou weep? around thee glows The purple light of youth, And all thy looks the calm disclose · Of innocence and truth. Nay, weep not while thy sun shines bright, And cloudless is thy day, While past and present joys unite To cheer thee on thy way; While fond companions round thee move And friends whose looks of anxious love Thy every step pursue. Nay, weep not now-reserve thy tears, When thou, alas! no more canst see, The friends who ever looked on thec When some, thy fond companions now View thee with anger-darkening brow, Or some, the faithful of that band, Nay, weep not now-reserve thy tears When Memory a wavering light And Hope no longer veils from sight Nay, weep not then-let but the ray Unclouded its decline, Then Memory's light, though dim, shall show How pure thy former years, While hope her holiest ray shall throw, On realms beyond the spheres. THE MURDERED TRAVELLER. When Spring to woods and wastes around, Brought bloom and joy again; The murdered traveller's bones were found, Far down a narrow glen. The fragrant birch, above him, hung And many a vernal blossom sprung, And nodded, careless, by. The red-bird warbled, as he wrought But there was weeping far away, Grew sorrowful and dim. They little knew, who loved him so, Nor how when round the frosty pole The mountain wolf and wild-cat stole Nor how, when strangers found his bones, And marked his grave with nameless stones, But long they looked, and feared, and wept, And dreamed, and started as they slept, So long they looked—but never spied Nor knew the fearful death he died THE OLD MAN'S FUNERAL. I saw an aged man upon his bier, His hair was thin and white, and on his brow A record of the cares of many a year ;Cares, that were ended and forgotten now. And there was sadness round, and faces bowed, And woman's tears fell fast and children wailed aloud. Then rose another hoary man and said, In faltering accents, to that weeping train, Why mourn ye, that our aged friend is dead? Ye are not sad to see the gathered grain, |