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Years have passed o'er me, like a dream

That leaves no trace on memory's page : I look around me, and I seem

Some relic of a former age. Alone, as in a stranger clime,

Where stranger voices mock my ear, I mark the lagging course of time,

Without a wish,-a hope, a fear! Yet I had hopes--and they have fled;

And fears—and they were all too true; My wishes too-but they are dead;

And what have I with life to do? 'Tis but to wear a weary load

I may not, dare not, cast away ; To sigh for one small, still abode,

Where I may sleep as sweet as they ;

As they, the loveliest of their race,

Whose grassy tombs my sorrows steep, Whose worth my soul delights to trace,

Whose very loss 'tiş sweet to weep, To weep beneath the silent

moon, With none to chide, to hear, to see : Life can bestow no greater boon

On one, whom death disdains to free.

I leave the world, that knows me not,

To hold communion with the dead; And fancy consecrates the spot

Where fancy's softest dreams are shed. I see each shade--all silvery white

I hear each spirit's melting sigh;
I turn to clasp those forms of light,-

And the pale morning chills my eye.
But soon the last dim morn shall rise-

The lamp of life burns feebly now, When stranger hands shall close my eyes,

And smooth my cold and dewy brow. Unknown I lived; so let me die;

Nor stone, nor monumental cross, Tell where his nameless ashes lie, Who sighed for gold, and found it dross.


He shall fly away as a dream.-ANONYMOUS.

I DREAMED: -I saw a rosy child,

With flaxen ringlets, in a garden playing ;

Now stooping here, and then afar off straying, As flower or butterfly his feet beguiled.

'Twas changed; one summer's day I stepped aside,

To let him pass; his face had manhood's seeming,

And that full eye of blue was fondly beaming On a fair maiden, whom he called his bride. Once more; 'twas evening, and the cheerful fire

I saw a group of youthful forms surrounding,

The room with harmless pleasantry resounding; And, in the midst, I marked the smiling sire.

The heavens were clouded—and I heard the tone
Of a slow-moving bell : the white-haired man had gone !


The Journey of a Day - A Picture of Human Life.


OBIDAA, the son of Abensina, left the caravansary early in the morning, and pursued his journey through the plains of Hindostan. He was fresh and vigorous with rest; he was animated with hope; he was incited by desire : he walked swiftly forward over the valleys, and saw the hills gradually rising before him.

As he passed along, his ears were delighted with the morning song of the bird of paradise; he was fanned by the last flutters of the sinking breeze, and sprinkled with dew by groves of spices : he sometimes contemplated the towering height of the oak, monarch of the hills; and sometimes caught the gentle fragrance of the primrose, eldest daughter of the spring : all his senses were gratified, and all care was banished from his heart.

Thus he went on till the sun approached his meridian, and the increasing heat preyed upon his strength; he then looked round about him for some more commodious path. He saw, on his right hand, a grove, that seemed to wave its shades as a sign of invitation; he entered it, and found the coolness and verdure irresistibly pleasant. He did not, however, forget whither he was travelling, but found a narrow way, bordered with flowers, which appeared to have the same direction with the main road, and was pleased, that, by this happy experiment, he had found means to unité pleasure with business, and to gain the rewards of diligence without suffering its fatigues.

He, therefore, still continued to walk for a time, without the least remission of his ardour, except that he was sometimes tempted to stop by the music of the birds, whom the heat had assembled in the shade, and sometimes amused himself with plucking the flowers that covered the banks on either side, or the fruits that hung upon the branches, At last, the green path began to decline from its first tendency, and to wind among the hills and thickets, cooled with fountains, and murmuring with water-falls.

Here Obidah paused for a time, and began to consider, whether it were longer safe to forsake the known and common track; but, remembering that the heat was now in its greatest violence, and that the plain was dusty and uneven, he resolved to pursue the new path, which he supposed only to make a few meanders, in compliance with the varieties of the ground, and to end at last in the common road.

Having thus calmed his solicitude, he renewed his pace, though he suspected he was not gaining ground. This uneasiness of his mind inclined him to lay hold on every new object, and give way to every sensation that might soothe or divert him. He listened to every echo, he mounted every hill for a fresh prospect, he turned aside to every cascade, and pleased himself with tracing the course of a gentle river, that rolled among the trees, and watered a large region, with innumerable circumvolutions.

In these amusements, the hours passed away unaccounted; his deviations had perplexed his memory, and he knew not towards what point to travel. He stood pensive and confused, afraid to go forward, lest he should go wrong, yet conscious that the time of loitering was now past. While he was thus tortured with uncertainty, the sky was over

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spread with clouds, the day vanished from before him, and a sudden tempest gathered round his head.

He was now roused, by his danger, to a quick and painful remembrance of his folly; he now saw how happiness is lost when ease is consulted; he lamented the unmanly impatience that prompted him to seek shelter in the grove, and despised the petty curiosity that led him on from trifle to trifle. While he was thus reflecting, the air grew blacker, and a clap of thunder broke his meditation.

He now resolved to do what remained yet in his power,to tread back the ground which he had passed, and try to find some issue, where the wood might open into the plain. He prostrated himself upon the ground, and commended his life to the Lord of nature. He rose with confidence and tranquillity, and pressed on with his sabre in his hand; for the beasts of the desert were in motion, and on every hand were heard the mingled howls of rage, and fear, and ravage, and expiration : all the horrors of darkness and solitude surrounded him; the winds roared in the woods, and the torrents tumbled from the hills.

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« Worked into sudden rage by wintry showers,
Down the steep hill the roaring torrent pours:
The mountain shepherd hears the distant noise."

Thus, forlorn and distressed, he wandered through the wild, without knowing whither he was going, or whether he was every moment drawing nearer to safety or to destruction. At length, not fear, but labour, began to overcome him; his breath grew short, and his knees trembled, and he was on the point of lying down, in resignation to his fate, when he beheld, through the brambles, the glimmer of a taper. He advanced towards the light, and, finding that it proceeded from the cottage of a hermit, he called humbly at the door, and obtained admission. The old man set before him such provisions as he had collected for himself, on which Obidah fed with eagerness and gratitude. When the repast was over,

said the hermit, by wbat chance thou hast been brought hither: I have

been now twenty years an inhabitant of this wilderness, in which I never saw a man before." Obidah then related the occurrences of his journey, without any concealment or palliation.

Son, ,” said the hermit, “let the errors and follies, the dangers and escapes, of this day, sink deep into thy heart.

16 Tell me,

Remember, my son, that human life is the journey of a day. We rise in the morning of youth, full of vigour, and full of expectation; we set forward with spirit and hope, with gayety and with diligence, and travel on a while in the straight road of piety, towards the mansions of rest. In a short time we remit our fervour, and endeavour to find some mitigation of our duty, and some more easy means of obtaining the same end.

“We then relax our vigour, and resolve no longer to be terrified with crimes at a distance, but rely upon our own constancy, and venture to approach what we resolve never to touch. We thus enter the bowers of ease, and repose in the shades of security. Here the heart softens, and vigilance subsides : we are then willing to inquire whether another advance cannot be made, and whether we may not, at least, turn our eyes upon the gardens of pleasure. We approach them with scruple and hesitation ; we enter them, but enter timorous and trembling, and always hope to pass through them without losing the road of virtue, which we, for a while, keep in our sight, and to which we propose to return.

“But temptation succeeds temptation, and one compliance prepares us for another; we, in time, lose the happiness of innocence, and solace our disquiet with sensual gratifications. By degrees we let fall the remembrance of our original intention, and quit the only adequate object of rational desire. We entangle ourselves in business, immerge ourselves in luxury, and rove through the labyrinths of inconstancy, till the darkness of old age begins to invade us, and disease and anxiety obstruct our way. We then look back upon our lives with horror, with sorrow, with repentance; and wish, but too often vainly wish, that we had not forsaken the ways of virtue.

“Happy are they, my son, who shall learn, from thy example, not to despair, but shall remember, that, though the day is past, and their strength is wasted, there yet remains one effort to be made; that reformation is never hopeless, nor sincere endeavours ever unassisted; that the wanderer may at length return, after all his errors; and that he, who implores strength and courage from above, shall find danger and difficulty give way before him. Go'now, my son, to thy repose ; commit thyself to the care of Omnipotence; and, when the morning calls again to toil, begin anew thy journey and thy life.”

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