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Amidst the clouds of heaven,
Leaves streams of brightness yet;
And thus he sinks victoriously

Into his ocean throne :

Then darkness gathers round him, 'Tis but a night :-again

He bursts the chains that bound him,

He rises from the main,

And marches heavenward gloriously In splendours of his own.

Yon gems so sweetly sparkling
On heaven's cerulean deep,
What time the twilight darkling
Brings nature's hours of sleep,
Are perhaps the bright receptacles
Of disembodied souls :

Of souls that, long desiring
Some more than mortal joy,
Burst in their proud aspiring,
And fix themselves on high;
And on this earth look tenderly,
That low beneath them rolls.

Yes! in those orbs of glory
Methinks I see the

Which wisdom's sages hoary
Have scattered o'er my way,
With brighter wisdom perfected,
All strength-all purity.

In yonder gentle star-light
I see the holy tear,

Glistening in fair, tho' far light,
Which once consoled me here-
Till I was left in wretchedness,
And none to weep with me.

Roll on, fair worlds! and over
Earth's vale your torches blend :---
In each my thoughts discover
Smiles of some cherished friend,
Whose melancholy pilgrimage
Wearies the heart no more:
O yes! I hear their voices,
O yes! their forms I see;
And then my soul rejoices,
And, raptured, seems to be
Their momentary visitant;
But soon the dream is o'er.

I'll build a fane elysian
Among those towers divine,

And there in hallowed vision,
When gloomy thoughts are mine,
Will soar in glowing exstacy-
There shall my joys be stored;
And there my soul reposing
On contemplation's breast,
When earthly scenes are closing,
Shall find a place of rest,
And leave this lowly solitude
Forgotten-undeplored.

ODE.

Bourg.

When the awakened soul receives
The first impression fancy gives;
Tempered by soft affection's reign

Sweet are the days of pleasing pain.

But ah! they fly, they fly, fly never to return

And leave the aching heart to wretchedness forlorn.

What magic shall the muse employ
Or how recall departed joy?

Alas! the time returns no more,
Nor hope herself can now restore

Those smiling days, when with fresh roses crowned She led the fairy hours their gay fantastic round.

She flies with youth, and leaves to age
The future tempest to engage :
The blossoms fall, the leaves are torn,

On the rude blast behold them borne
Far distant, while the withered trunk remains
Covered with hoary frost amid deserted plains.

• Vain insects of a summer day'

(The power of nature seems to say)

Expect not long unclouded hours
Soon rushing winds and breaking showers

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Your pastime ends-and fortune still at strife,
Wars in vicissitudes through human life.'

Friendship remains thro' changing time
Remains superior and sublime;
Pure and unmixed her joys we share,
No selfish passions rankle there-

Balm for the wounded heart's corroding woes,

Peace for the wounded spirit's final solemn close!

In recollection's pensive hour,

When tender thoughts the past restore;

Then friendship reunites again

The scattered traces that remain ;
Delights the fond remembrance still to save,
And pluck the envious thorn from soft affection's

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grave.

Mrs Hunter.

ADDRESS TO THE OCEAN.

O thou vast Ocean! ever-sounding sea!
Thou symbol of a drear immensity!

Thou thing that windest round the solid world
Like a huge animal, which, downward hurled
From the black clouds, lies weltering and alone,
Lashing and writhing till its strength be gone.
Thy voice is like the thunder, and thy sleep
Is like a giant's slumber, loud and deep.
Thou speakest in the east and in the west
At once, and on thy heavily laden breast
Fleets come and go, and shapes that have no life
Or motion, yet are moved and meet in strife.

The earth hath nought of this; nor chance nor change
Ruffles its surface, and no spirits dare

Give answer to the tempest-waken air;

But o'er its wastes, the weekly tenants range

VOL. II.

B

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