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From thy dream of woe awake thee,

To thy rescued child return. “Lift thine eyes! behold yon fountain,

Sparkling mid those fruitful trees ! Lo! beneath yon sheltering momtain

Smile for thee green bowers of ease. “ In the hour of sore affliction

God hath seen and pitied thee; Cheer thee in the sweet conviction

Thou henceforth his care shalt be. “ Be no more by doubts distressed,

Mother of a mighty race!
By contempt no more oppressed,

Thou hast found a resting-place.” Thus, from peace and comfort driven,

Thou, poor soul, all desolate, Hopeless lay, till pitying Heaven

Found thee, in thy abject state : O'er thy empty pitcher mourning,

Mid the desert of the world ; Thus, with shame and anguish burning,

From thy cherished pleasures hurled : See thy great deliverer nigh,

Calls thee from thy sorrow vain ;
Bids thee on his love rely,

Bless the salutary pain.
From thine eyes the mists dispelling,

Lo! the well of life he shows;
In his presence ever dwelling,

Bids thee find thy true repose. Future prospects rich in blessing

Open to thy hopes secure; Sure of endless joys possessing,

Of an heavenly kingdom sure.

THE LILY.

How withered, perished seems the form

Or yon obscure, unsightly root! Yet from the blight of wintry storm

It hides secure the precious fruit. The careless eye can find no grace,

No beauty in the scaly folds, Nor see within the dark embrace

What latent loveliness it holds.

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iy dream of woe awake thee,
ay rescued child return.
ne eyes! behold yon fountain,
kling mid those fruitful trees!
neath yon sheltering mountain
e for thee green bowers of ease.
nour of sore affliction

hath seen and pitied thee;
thee in the sweet conviction
u henceforth his care shalt be.
more by doubts distressed,
ner of a mighty race!
tempt no more oppressed,
u hast found a resting-place."
From peace and comfort driven,
-), poor soul, all desolate,

3 lay, till pitying Heaven
od thee, in thy abject state :
y empty pitcher mourning,
the desert of the world ;
with sbame and anguish burning,
n thy cherished pleasures hurled :

great deliverer nigh,
= theo from thy sorrow yain;
ee on his love rely,

the salutary pain.
aine eyes the mists dispelling,
the well of life he shows;
presence ever dwelling,
thee find tby true repose.
prospects rich in blessing
to thy hopes secure;
endless joys possessing,
heavenly kingdom sure.

Yet in that bulb, those sapless scales,

The lily wraps her silver vest, Till vernal suus and verbal gales

Shall kiss once more her fragrant breast. Yes, hide beneath the mouldering heap

The undelighting, slighted thing;
There, in the cold earth buried deep,

In silence let it wait the spring.
Oh! many a stormy night shall close

In gloom upon the barren earth,
While still, in undisturbed) repose,

Uninjured lies the future birth! And ignorance, with skeptic eye,

Hope's patient smile shall wondering view; Or mock her fond credulity,

As her soft tears the spot bedew. Sweet smile of hope, delicious tear!

The sun, the shower indeed shall come; The promised verdant shoot appear,

And nature bid her blossoms bloom. And thou, ( virgin Queen of Spring!

Shalt, from thy dark and lowly bed, Bursting thy green sheath's silken string,

Unveil thy charms, and perfume shed; Unfold thy robes of purest white,

Unsullied from their darksome graveAnd thy soft petals, silvery light,

In the mild breeze unfettered wave. So Faith shall seek the lowly dust

Where humble Sorrow loves to lie, And bid her thus her hopes entrust,

And watch with patient, cheerful eye; And bear the long, cold, wintry night,

And bear her own degraded doom, And wait till Heaven's reviving light,

Eternal Spring! shall burst the gloom.

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THE LILY.

ON RECEIVING A BRANCH OF MEZEREON WIIICH FLOWERED

AT WOODSTOCK.?

Odors of Spring, my sense ye charm

With fragrance premature;

-red, perished seems the form -Oscure, uusightly root! e blight of wintry storm ecure the precious fruit. s eye can find no grace, - in the scaly folds, un the dark embrace nt loveliness it holds.

· This poem was the last ever composed by the author, who expired at the place where it was written, after six years of protracted malady, on the 24th of March, 1810, in the thirty-seventh year of her age. Her fears of death

9*

And, mid these days of dark alarm,

Almost to hope allure.
Methinks with purpose soft ye come

To tell of brighter hours,
Of May's blue skies, abundant bloom,

Her sunny gales and showers.
Alas! for me shall May in vain

The powers of life restore;
These eyes, that weep and watch in pain,

Shall see her charms no more.
No, no, this anguish cannot last!

Beloved friends, adieu !
The bitterness of death were past,

Could I resign but you.
But oh! in every mortal pang

That rends my soul from lise,
That soul which seems on you to hang

Through each convulsive strise,
Ev'n now, with agonizing grasp

Of terror and regret,
To all in life its love would clasp

Clings close and closer yet.
Yet why, immortal, vital spark !

Thus mortally opprest?
Look up, my soul, through prospects dark,

And bid thy terrors rest!
Forget, forego thy earthly part,

Thine heavenly being trust!
Ah, vain attempt! my coward heart

Still shuddering clings to dust.
Oh ye! who soothe the pangs of deatlı

With love's own patient care,
Still, still retain this fleeting breath,

Still pour the fervent prayer:
And ye, wboso smile must greet my eye

No more, nor voice my ear,
Who breathe for me the tender sigh,

And shed the pitying tear,
Whose kindness (though far, far removed)

My grateful thonghts perceive,
Pride of my life, esteemed, beloved,

My lasi sad claim receive!
Oh! do not quite your friend forget,

Forget alone her faults;
And speak of her with sond regret
Who asks your lingering thoughts.

December 1809.

were entirely removed before she quitted this scene of trial and suffering; and her spirii departed to a better state of existence, confiding with heavenly joy in the acceptance and love of her Redeemer.

sed before she quitted this scene of trial and suffers ed 10 a beller state of existence, confiding with heari

RICHARD CUMBERLAND, 1722–1811.

And, mid these days of dark alarm,

Almost to hope allure.
Methinks with purpose soft ye come

To tell of brighter hours,
Of May's blue skies, abundant bloom,

Her sunny gales and showers.
Alas! for me shall May in vain

The powers of life restore;
These eyes, that weep and watch in pain,

Shall see her charms no more.
No, no, this anguish cannot last!

Beloved friends, adieu!
The bitterness of death were past,

Could I resign but you.
But ob! in every mortal pang

That rends my soul from life,
That soul which seems on you to hang

Through each convulsive strife,
Ev'n now, with agonizing grasp

Or terror and regret,
To all in life its love would clasp

Clings close and closer yet.
Yet why, immortal, vital spark!

Thus mortally opprest ?
Look up, my soul, through prospects dark,

And bid thy terrors rest!
Forget, forego thy earthly part,

Thine heavenly being trust!
Ali, vain attempt! my coward heart

Still shuduering clings to dust.
Oh ye! who soothe the pangs of death

With love's own patient care,
Still, still retain this fleeting breath,

Still pour the servent prayer:
And ye, whose smile must greet my eye

No more, nor voice my ear,
Who breathe for me the tender sigh,

And shed the pitying tear,

RICHARD CUMBERLAND, a celebrated dramatic and miscellaneous writer, was born under the roof of his maternal grandfather, the celebrated Dr. Richard Bentley,' on the 29th of February, 1722. After the usual preparatory studies, he was admitted into Trinity College, Cambridge, where he graduated with distinguished honor in 1750. Soon after this, while pursuing his studies at the university, he received an invitation from Lord Halifax to become his private and confidential secretary. Accordingly he proceeded to London, where he published his first offering to the press-a churchyard Elegy, in imitation of Gray's. It made but little impression. The public,” he observes, "were very little interested in it, and Dodsley as little profited.” Soon after this, he published his first legitimate drama, "The Banishment of Cicero ;'' but it was not adapted for the stage, and it afterwards appeared as a dramatic poem.

In 1759, he married Elizabeth, the only daughter of George Ridge, Esq., of Kilminston, and through the influence of his patron, Lord Halifax, was appointed crown agent for Nova Scotia ; and in the next year, when that nobleman, on the accession of George III., was made lord- lieutenant of Ireland, Cumberland accompanied him as secretary. He now began to write with assiduity for the stage, and produced a variety of plays, of which the most successful was the comedy of “ The West Indian,” and thus he became known to the literary and distinguished society of the day. The character of him by Goldsmith, in his “Retaliation," is one of the finest compliments ever paid by one author to another..

In 1780, Cumberland was sent on a confidential mission to the courts of Madrid and Lisbon, to induce them to enter into separate treaties of peace with England. But he failed to accomplish the object of his mission, and returned in 1781, having contracted, in the public service, a debt of five thousand pounds, which Lord North's ministry meanly and unjustly refused to pay. He was compelled, therefore, to sell all his paternal estate, and retire to private life. lle fixed his residence at Tunbridge Wells, and there poured forih a variety of dramas, essays, and other works : among which were “ Anecdotes of Eminent Painters in Spain;" a poem in eight books entitled “Calvary, or the Death of Christ,” and another called the “Exo.

Whose kindness (though far, far removed)

My grateful thonghts perceire,
Pride of my life, esteemed, beloved,

My lasi sad claim receive!
Oh! do not quite your friend forget,

Forget alone her faults;
And speak of her with fond regret

Who asks your lingering thoughts.

" See “Compendium of English Literature," p. 129,

? Here Cumberland lies, having acted his parts,

Tue TERENCE OF ENGLAND, THE MENDER OF HEARTS;
A flattering painter, who made it his care
To draw men as they ought to be, not as they are.
Say, where bas our poet this malady caught,
Or, wherefore his characters thus without fault?
Say, was it that, vainly directing his view
To find out men's virtues, and finding them few,
Quite sick of pursuing each troublesome ell,
He grew lazy'at last and drew from himsell?

- and love of her Redeemer,

diad." Here also, in 1785, he first published in two volumes the collection of Essays known as “The Observer," which the next year was consider. ably enlarged, was published in five volumes in 1790, and in 1803 was incor. porated with the British Classics. In 1806, he published “Memoirs of his Own Life;" and in 1811 his last work, entitled “Retrospection, a Poem in Familiar Verse."'? He died on the 11th of May, in the same year.

of the personal character of Mr. Cumberland, a pretty accurate judgment may be formed from his “Memoirs." His self-esteem was great and his vanity overweening, but he possessed as kind a heart as ever beat in a human breast. In society few men appeared to more advantage in conversation, or evinced a more perfect mastery of the art of pleasing. As a writer, he may be said to be more remarkable for the number than for the distinguished excellence of his works; but many of them, it should be remembered, were hastily produced in order to better his income: and it has been justly said that, "if he has produced much that is perishable or forgotien, he has also evolved creations which have been enregistered as among the finest efforts of genius.” His “ Observer” is among the most interesting and instructive of the series called the British Classic3,3 and few books are read with more pleasure than his “ Memoirs of his Own Life.

THE PROGRESS OF POETRY.

The poet, therefore, whether Hebrew or Greek, was in the earliest ages a sacred character, and his talent a divine gift, a celestial inspiration : men regarded him as the ambassador of Heaven and the interpreter of its will. It is perfectly in nature, and no less agreeable to God's providence, to suppose that even in the darkest times some minds of a more enlightened sort should break forth, and be engaged in the contemplation of the universe and its author : from meditating upon the works of the Creator, the transition to the act of praise and adoration follows as it were of course: these are operations of the mind, which naturally inspire it with a certain portion of rapture and enthusiasm, rushing upon the lips in

p. 714.

• For an extract from this poem, see " Compendium of English Literature,"? ? Dr. Johnson, in a letter to Mrs. Thrale, thus speaks of him: “The want of company is an inconvenience, but Mr. Cumberland is a million."

3 Orihis, Dr. Drake thus speaks in the fifth volume of his Essays, p. 393: " The Observer,' though the sole labor of an individual, is yet rich in variety, both of subject and manner; in this respect, indeed, as well as in literary interest, and in fertility of invention, it may be classed with the Spectator and Adventurer;' if inferior to the latter in grandeur of fiction, or to the former in delicate irony and dramatic unity of design, it is wealthier in its literary fund than either, equally moral in its views, and as abundant in the creation of incident. I consider it, therefore, with the exception of the papers just mentioned, as superior, in its powers of attraction, 10 every other periodical composition."

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