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sunny robes resign. Even what remain'd
Of bolder fruits falls from the naked tree;
And woods, fields, gardens, orchards, all around
The desolated prospect thrills the soul. . . .
The western sun withdraws the shorten'd day,
And humid evening, gliding o'er the sky,

In her chill progress, to the ground condens'd
The vapours throw. Where creeping waters ooze,
Where marshes stagnate, and where rivers wind,
Cluster the rolling fogs, and swim along

The dusky-mantled lawn. Meanwhile the moon,
Full-orb'd, and breaking through the scatter'd clouds,
Shows her broad visage in the crimson'd east.
Turn'd to the sun direct her spotted disk,
Where mountains rise, umbrageous dales descend,
And caverns deep as optic tube descries,
A smaller earth, gives us his blaze again,
Void of its flame, and sheds a softer day.

Now through the passing cloud she seems to stoop,
Now up the pure cerulean rides sublime.
Wide the pale deluge floats, and streaming mild
O'er the skied mountain to the shadowy vale,
While rocks and floods reflect the quivering gleam,
The whole air whitens with a boundless tide
Of silver radiance, trembling round the world. . . .
The lengthened night elaps'd, the morning shines
Serene, in all her dewy beauty bright,
Unfolding fair the last autumnal day.
And now the mounting sun dispels the fog;
The rigid hoar-frost melts before his beam;
And, hung on every spray, on every blade

grass, the myriad dew-drops twinkle round.

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The world's foundations first were laid,
Come, visit every pious mind;

Come, pour thy joys on human kind;

* "Come, Creator!" from the first two words of a Latin hymn.

From sin and sorrow set us free,
And make thy temples worthy Thee.

O Source of uncreated light,
The Father's promised Paraclete !*
Thrice holy fount, thrice holy fire,
Our hearts with heavenly love inspire,
Come, and thy sacred unction bring
To sanctify us while we sing.

Plenteous of grace, descend from high,
Rich in thy sevenfold energy!

Thou strength of His Almighty hand
Whose power does heaven and earth commano
Proceeding Spirit, our defence,

Who dost the gift of tongues dispense,
And crownst thy gifts with eloquence.

Refine and purge our earthly parts;
But, oh, inflame and fire our hearts!
Our frailties help, our vice control,
Submit the senses to the soul;

And when rebellious they are grown,
Then lay thine hand, and hold them down.

Chase from our minds the infernal foe,
And peace, the fruit of love, bestow;
And lest our feet should step astray,
Protect and guide us in the way.
Make us eternal truths receive,
And practise all that we believe:
Give us thyself, that we may see
The Father, and the Son, by Thee.

Immortal honour, endless fame,
Attend the Almighty Father's name:
The Saviour Son be glorified,
Who for lost man's redemption died:
And equal adoration be,

Eternal Paraclete, to thee!

* Paraclete, a Greek word, signifying "comforter."

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FROM "ORIENTAL FAIRY TALES.' THERE stood two solitary Columns, the only remains of a Grecian temple, beneath the blue sky of Asia, not far removed from the ruins of an abandoned city, near the sea-shore. From year to year they remained standing, melancholy, motionless, supporting together the misery of decay and their grief for the time that was gone, praying to that God to whom they had once been devoted, to bury them; but he buried them not.

"The Gods are fallen, they hear us no longer; why are we standing still ?"

Ha, ha," laughed proudly the Mountains, "what were your Gods? We have been standing firmer than they."

"Cover us, cover us!" But the Mountains covered them not. "What were your Gods ?" roared the Sea. " 'My voice is loud, but theirs grew silent long ago.'



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Bury us, bury us!" the Columns called, but the Sea buried them


"Oh, how gloomy the large stone leaves at the top of those Columns are looking!" said the Leaves of a small wild fig-tree, that grew at the foot of the Columns.

"If we only were high enough to reach up to them, we would not fail to cheer them, dancing, balancing, oh, how merrily! we would tell our shades to paint them with green, and to cool them. Would not that be delightful? How strange that they are looking so gloomy!"

"Come up to us, up to us!" said the Columns to the little green babblers, and they began shooting and growing with all their might, but the heads of the Columns were high and unattainable.

At the foot of a hill, near the Columns, a Rivulet glided past, that was always babbling and bragging incredibly, much of his endless business, looking all the while very contemptuously, that the Columns were forced to remain always in the same place; and then ran away in haste.

"Wash off our misery, if you can," the Columns called after it; but the Rivulet could not, and therefore it ran by as fast as it could. So the Columns remained where and what they had been before; but yet they aided each other to carry the burden of misfortune, and to give vent to their grief, till a rich man came from a foreign country, who, admiring their beauty, resolved to carry off one of them.

"Oh, woe to us to be separated!-oh, woe to us, to carry the tale of the fall of our Gods into the lands of the stranger!" they lamented; but they were neither heard nor understood, and became separated. "Farewell!" said the Column that was carried off; "when the Gods that have fallen shall rise again, we shall be reunited."

But when they came to the sea-shore, and the Column should be brought on board a vessel, it fell down in the sea.

Welcome!" sung the dark blue Waves, embracing it with soft and tender arms. "What can we do for thee ?"

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Bury me."

And willingly the Waters buried the beautiful Column, and its grief was silent now.

The sister Column, left alone now, mourned more deeply than ever. "Oh!" said the Leaves of the wild fig-tree, so gloomy the stone leaves never yet have looked."

"Well," babbled the Rivulet, "why are you standing still here alone, instead of running away too? Look here how I do."

The Column listened not; it only looked with fixed gaze to the shore, where it had seen the sister sinking. But every time when the Night-wind came across the sea, and sighed over the shore, it stopped at the solitary Column, softly breathing

They are coming."

The Column then waited patiently, silently.

"Well, who may be coming?" the Green Leaves asked; but nobody told them.

Though from year to year the Night-wind told the same tale, the Column yet listened to it with the same patience; for what are a few years' rising and setting of stars to one that lived thousands of years?

"They are coming!" the Night-wind breathed a long, long time; and at last they came-the messengers sent from the sister on the ground of the sea.

Sand after sand gave way, pebble after pebble rolled down, clod after clod broke off, while years came and went, suffering it to pass, and the first waves kissed the foot of the patient Column. Busily they worked, night and day, washed and splashed, and called

"We lave and we lave, to make you a grave!"

With the tide they rose, to bring the white sister's message,that sister who lay sleeping on a couch, glittering with gold, covered with blue transparent veils. With the tide they sank, to take down the answers of the other that was left on the shore. So it lasted many a day and many a night, but the love of the sisters lasted longer than day and night.

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Alas, alas! the Column is sinking!" called the green babbling Leaves. "The stone leaves seem to stir: what can touch or move their everlasting rest? The ground gives way-do you feel it ?—and our roots become wet. The stone leaves bend down to us more and more. Should they, perhaps, wish to talk to us? How large you are, when seen so near! Do not come so near-not so near; you will crush us. Alas! our bright, our sunny life!"

And now the Column fell with a crash. The Waves had done their work-the ground was undermined; it sank down on the cool ground of the sea, where the sister received it.

"Oh, thanks to you, sister!—it was you who sent the messengers, -you who commanded the Waves to fetch me!"

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'Not I, my sister; it was the Gods."

"So they are living still, whom we had believed to be dead ?"

I hear their voices daily, giving the Waves their commands: they are living still."

The fallen Column had lifted its head, as if trying to behold the Gods above; and now it seemed to the two reunited here, as if they beheld above them the blue sky, and in it the same temple which they once had supported. On the altar stood the same bright God, to

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