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By the hour of our parting--thus sweetly delayed,-
—Till life's latest ray In the dark night of death shall have melted away; 'Mid ambition—fame--fortune—and power,—and glad
Pain,—and peril -- and hate --and contention - and
sadness;— Though changes the darkest and brightest betide,Thy friendship shall soothe me, thy counsels shall guide, And thy memory at once be my solace and pride!
WRITTEN IN THE ANGEL OF THE WORLD, AN ARABIAN
TALE, BY THE REV. G. CROLY.
a deep dream
And starry Eblis in their mingled might,
We turn away with dim, delirious sense
ON THE ANGEL OF THE WORLD.
From Eastern splendour and magnificence,
In strains, of power each turbulent thought to’suage, And bid the Passions cease their fierce, wild war, to
Surpassing Lyrist ! from thy powerful hand,
As those on an Arabian Heaven displayed,
Have we not loved, as none have ever loved,
Yes, I will join the world again,
And mingle with the crowd;
At least it shall be loud!
'Tis true, to bend before the shrine
Of heartless revelry,
Than ever crouch to thee !
Ay, better far to steep the soul
In pleasure's sparkling tide; Bid joy's unholy sounds controul The maddening thoughts that o'er it roll,
Than wither 'neath thy pride.
Yet I have loved thee-ah, how well !
But words are wild and weak; The depth of that pervading spell, I dare not trust my tongue to tell,
And hearts may never speak !
The stubborn pride, none else might rein,
Hath stooped to love and thee; But, as the pine upon the plain, Bent by the blast, springs up again,
So shall it fare with me.