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Clung even as ivy clings; the deep spring-tide Of nature then swell’d high; and o'er her child Bending, her soul brake forth, in mingled sounds Of weeping and sad song.--" Alas !” she cried,

“ Alas, my boy! thy gentle grasp is on me,
The bright tears quiver in thy pleading eyes,

And now fond thoughts arise,
And silver cords again to earth have won me,
And like a vine thou claspest my full heart

How shall I hence depart ?

“ How the lone paths retrace, where thou wert

playing
So late along the mountains at my side ;

And I, in joyous pride,
By every place of flowers my course delaying,
Wove, e'en as pearls, the lilies round thy hair,

Beholding thee so fair !

6 And, oh! the home whence thy bright smile

hath parted ? Will it not seem as if the sunny day

Turn’d from its door away, While, through its chambers wandering weary

hearted, I languish for thy voice, which past me still,

Went like a singing rill ?

“ Under the palm-trees, thou no more shalt meet

me, When from the fount at evening I return,

With the full water-urn ! Nor will thy sleep's low, dove-like murmurs, greet Is it when roses in our paths grow pale ? They have one season-all are ours to die !

me,

Thou art where billows foam,
Thou art where music melts upon the air ;

Thou art around us in our peaceful home,
And the world calls us forth—and thou art there;

Thou art where friend meets friend, Beneath the shadow of the elm to rest;

Thou art where foe meets foe, and trumpets rend The skies, and swords beat down the princely crest.

Leaves have their time to fall, And flowers to wither at the North-wind's breath,

And stars to set—but all, Thou hast all seasons for thine own, O, Death!

REV. W. LISLE BOWLES.

REDEMPTION.

Then shall the day-spring rise, before whose

beams The darkness of the world is past; for hark ! Seraphs, and angel-choirs with symphonies Acclaiming of ten thousand golden harps Amid the bursting clouds of heav'n reveal'd At once in glory jubilant—they sing, " GOD THE REDEEMER LIVETH! HE WHO

TOOK

MAN'S NATURE ON HIM, AND IN HUMAN

SHROUD " VEIL'D HIS IMMORTAL GLORY! HE IS

RISEN " GOD THE REDEEMER LIVETH! AND BE

HOLD " THE FATES OF LIFE AND IMMORTALITY « OPENED TO ALL THAT BREATHE !”

O might the strains But win the world to love: meek Charity Should lift her looks and smile ; and with faint

voice The weary pilgrim of the earth exclaim, As close his eyelids, “ DEATH WHERE IS THY

STING ?
O GRAVE! WHERE IS THY VICTORY?”

66 And ye

Whom ocean's melancholy wastes divide,
Who slumber to the sullen surge, AWAKE,
BREAK FORTH INTO THANKSGIVING, for the

bark
That roll’d upon the silent deep shall bear
The tidings of great joy to all that live,
TIDINGS OF LIFE AND LIGHT.”

THE DESTRUCTION OF BABYLON. TYRE BE NO MORE! said the Almighty's voice: But thou too, monarch of the world, whose" arm

* Nebuchadnezzar.

Rent the proud bulwarks of the golden queen
Of cities, throned on subject seas,
ART THOU TOO FALLEN ?

The whole earth is at rest, “ They break forth into singing”—Lebanon Waves all his hoary pines, and seems to say, “ No feller now comes here :” Hell from beneath Is moved to meet thy coming; it stirs up The dead for thee; the CHIEF ONES of the earth, Tyre and the nations, they all speak and say, Art thou become like us ? thy heart brought down E'en to the dust ? the noise of viols ceased, The worm spread under thee, the crawling worm To cover thee? thou art then fallen from heaven, Son of the morning; in thy heart thou saidst, “ I will ascend to heaven, I will exalt My throne above the stars of God.—Die-die, Blasphemer! As a carcass under foot, Defiled and trodden, so be thou cast out, And she the great, the guilty Babel-SHE Who smote the wasted cities, and the world Made as a wilderness-she in her turn Sinks to the gulf oblivious at the voice Of him who sits in judgment on her crimes ! Who, o'er her palaces and bury'd tow'rs, Shall bid the owl hoot, and the bittern scream ; And, on her pensile groves and pleasant shades, Pour the deep waters of forgetfulness.

HOGG, THE ETTRICK SHEPHERD.

A HEBREW MELODY.
On Carmel's brow the wreathy vine

Had all its honours shed,
And o’er the vales of Palestine

A sickly paleness spread ;
When the old Seer, by vision led,

And energy sublime,
Into that shadowy region sped,

To muse on distant time.

He saw the valleys far and wide,

But sight of joy was none;
He look'd o'er many a mountain's side,

But silence reign'd alone;
Save that a boding voice sung on

By wave and waterfall,
As still, in harsh and heavy tone,

Deep unto deep did call.

On Kison's strand and Ephratah

The hamlets thick did lie ;
No wayfarer between he saw,

No Asherite pass'd by;
No maiden at her task did ply,

Nor sportive child was seen ;
The lonely dog bark'd wearily

Where dwellers once had been.

Oh! beauteous were the palaces

On Jordan wont to be,

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